What I was really thinking about was my last semester--I know I've hinted that I had "roommate issues" and a rough semester, but as some of you know, it took me to my ultimate limits. People would ask me, how college was--they expected me to say that I was having the time of my life, and I ended up just resorting to saying that it was "crazy."
This, is the real story of my 1st semester in college:
What truly happened was I moved out to Utah to start my new chapter. I was living off-campus so I would be sure to have a kitchen. The girl I roomed with seemed sweet and I was so excited that I had a nice roommate. Soon I had a Japanese roommate join the apartment, along with an engaged girl. Things seemed great, and school was really starting to roll. I soon learned that my roommate had emotional mental challenges, but I had dealt with a similar friend quite often at home, and was willing to just keep an eye on everything.
Things were fine, until I came home one night to find her on her bed, silent, and shaking. After trying to get something out of her for a while, she finally confided in my that someone had physically taken advantage of her. I was supposed to take three tests the following day, but stayed up most of the night with her after calling the help line, and being willing to listen or talk. That in itself was a lot to take in.
After having to meet with professors and reschedule exams, a few days passed and I soon learned that there was a high possibility that the entire incident was fake.
I can't even tell you the frustration and anger that came with it. It simply grew as each day there would be more evidence that it had occurred, followed by evidence that it hadn't. Because of my personality though, my heart broke for her, and I really believed that it had happened. After a good two weeks of this constant changing which included fabricated text messages saying that that guy wanted to come to the apartment, I hit rock bottom. Every time I would turn around, something would take what I thought had happened/was happening, and turn it up-side-down. I honestly was about to crack. I found myself sleeping on my couch for almost an entire day, so depressed that I couldn't even get myself to classes. That night I just sat on the couch and cried. I hadn't cried over the last few weeks and it finally all came crashing down. I didn't know what to believe, and was half convinced that the guy--really scary guy--was going to show up on my front doorstep. After I had been just sitting for a while, that roommate came and sat next to me, then said, "I'm sorry I've made you so upset." But she didn't just say it, she LAUGHED while she said it. That's when I was truly scared.
I started camping on a friend's couch, and spent the next two weeks as various apartments. I would sleep there, then run to the old apartment to get ready and grab clothes. Everything I owned I had to stash at a friend's house or in my car, and left only clothes there. Usually I brought someone with me if I ever had to go back, because something had changed in the apartment, and something wasn't right. On one occasion, I had to grab my contact case and pajamas. As soon as I opened the door, I felt the most distinct and strong impression to GET OUT NOW. I literally ran and grabbed my stuff and ran out the door and to my friend's apartment. Darkness is a real thing, and the Holy Ghost will always warn you of it.
After two weeks of this, and filling more and more paperwork, I found myself sitting on the folding counter in the laundry room, crying on the phone with my mom. I literally felt like I was losing my mind. Because the apartment complex had yet to do anything, my Mom came down the next day and within a few hours I was packed and moved to another apartment within the complex. After moving everything, my mom made the call that I should probably go home for a few days. I had no idea how bad I was doing until I went home. It took me the first four days to even have any desire to get up in the morning, and I was numb for most of the 11-day trip. I didn't tell anyone I was coming home, and if I bumped into them, I didn't tell them why I was actually home. I felt like a freak and a wimp for having to come home--that I wasn't emotionally strong enough to have just dealt with it and moved on--but looking back now, I needed to go home.
I later found out that she had done this seven other times to seven other girls who fell for it all--she picked us because we cared about her, and knew that we would be ones who would be there emotionally--that is the sickest part.
I wish I could say that I have totally moved on, but a few days ago I sat thinking about how hard it has been the last few months to trust people, and to really reach out to others. I have never had a problem with the latter--in fact that is one of my greatest joys in life, but something had changed. I finally put the pieces together and realized that I have never been quite the same since everything went down last semester. (along with my grades which qualified me to be on the warning list at BYU.)
But why am I telling you this?! You don't need to know my personal trials!I'm posting this tonight because I want to acknowledge the true trials we all face, and the aftermath that is often harder to overcome than the trial itself. Some may look at my experience and think that I had it easy, and they have an even crazier roommate story--I am sure that could be the case, but for me this was torture, and I am still dealing with the effects of that time in my life--grade-wise, financially, and most importantly, emotionally. What I want to ask is that we recognize one another's trials for what they are, and even though we may not be able to get ourselves through on our own, the Savior makes all things possible. It may not be easy to move forward--I'm truly still in that process--but through the atonement, there is a way.
I hope that your day is bright, and remember that if it's dark at this moment, there will come a time, when your days will be just as bright as they are dark now.
Love Always,
Tayler
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