Rising from Trauma to Resilience

It's Homecoming season, so it's only natural that I would take some time to reflect on my college years. I loved my undergraduate alma mater as a student. So much so, I later went on to be an adjunct faculty member at that very school. I loved that school even until I graduated from there four years later.  Then, I started opening my eyes and really looking at how I was treated. At how some of those events negatively impacted my life and still do today. 

When I was 19, I transferred colleges. The college I attended my freshman year was rumored to have financial problems, so I left and went to another small private college in Iowa.  I wanted to focus on school, make friends, and enjoy the ride — but instead, I quickly became the target of lies and cruelty that would follow me for decades.

At a small college in a town of fewer than a thousand people, everyone knew everyone else. Early on, I asked a guy I considered a friend to a formal. He didn’t go with me, and his girlfriend and her friends mocked me relentlessly. From that moment, I was a target. Rumors, name-calling, and whispers followed me through my four years of school. I learned fast that people could define you with lies — and those lies could stick even when the truth was obvious.

Later, another pair of students accused me of trashing a guy's house he was subletting. The reality was small: I accidentally knocked over a trash can while leaving, a stack of napkins fell near a fan, and I did turn on the microwave for dramatic effect. How was I supposed to know the guy had put a fork and had rotting food in there? In fact, the guy was a complete slob, and the house was trashed without me doing anything. All the same, he equated me to "She Devil" and made up a fantastical story. 

The truth is, he was making passes at me and didn't want his girlfriend to find out. He cheated on her with me. He cheated on her with a lot of women. They were pre-promised to be engaged, after all. But suddenly, I was a story — a cautionary tale whispered around campus. These girls called me crazy, said I was a liar, and even made me go to the counseling office with them. Because after all, according to them, who would ever want me? I must be lying because they told me repeatedly I was ugly and what guy would ever want me. Even to this day, I have people from that college telling me, "Some people just aren't meant to be loved." 

At first,  the incessant bullying was crushing. I even developed hives because I was so stressed out.  But, I began to realize: I couldn’t control what others said. I chose to keep going, to continue showing up for my life and my education, despite the false narratives swirling around me. I chose to let them go on with their crazy-making behaviors. 

This picture was taken my senior year in college. I was 22, and I was kissing a 
frog in the picture. I never told anyone what I went through until after I graduated. This post isn't about a vendetta. It's about me telling my story of strength and resilience. 

During my senior year, another classmate spread a rumor that I was stalking a man I was actually in a relationship with. Here's what I did "wrong" that elicited this behavior. I was seeing this guy and stopped by his house on my way home from class. Remember, tiny school... less than 1,000 students. When he didn't answer, I just peeked in the window to see if he was home because his truck was in the driveway. He didn't answer, and I went on my merry way. Later he told me he felt like I was stalking him. I shared that with someone I thought I was a friend. Then, she and other women he hung out with started calling me a stalker. Even though most people knew I was seeing this guy. Even the faculty knew. It wasn't a secret unless the person was living under a rock.  

One night, as I walked home, a male student who was considered a “student leader” confronted me attempting to assault me, claiming I had been following this guy I was involved with. I was actually walking home to my own apartment. At the time,  I was 5'4" and about 145 pounds, and this guy was over 6 feet tall. My friends were telling him I wasn't doing anything. A football player who was nearby had to steer the guy away from me to keep him from attacking me. That night, fear and courage met, and I chose courage — a small act of self-preservation and self-respect that became part of a growing pattern of resilience.

After graduation, I moved to New York with only fifty dollars in my pocket, seeking a fresh start. I worked at a summer camp and lived on-site, making just enough to get by. When the camp ended, I became a nanny for a few months, continuing to support myself with no safety net. Each decision to work, live independently, and care for myself was an act of self-reliance and self-love — a refusal to let the cruelty of the past dictate my future.

Eventually, I returned to Iowa. That’s when my family members made me homeless, leaving me with a list of shelters and almost nothing else. It was devastating and traumatic, but I reached out to friends, found temporary housing, and tried to hold together what was left of my dignity. Choosing to survive and seek help was itself an act of self-love and empowerment. 

Looking back, I'm so proud of myself for keeping my wits about me even during that traumatic event. It was an especially excruciating experience because I was discarded by so many families before as a foster child and by my biological mother and her family. To me, this was another hole in my heart of a family who didn't want me and didn't value me and my basic needs.

Over the next few years, I slowly rebuilt my life. I moved across states, sometimes staying with friends, sometimes finding apartments of my own. I worked low-paying jobs while attending school full-time, eventually earning my master’s degree. Even in graduate school, I encountered people from my college who acted as though I didn’t belong. I felt like Elle Woods in "Legally Blonde." The scene where Warner treats her like she isn't good enough to go to Harvard, but she is already there, too. That's how these students I went to my undergraduate college with acted when I re-encountered them in grad school.  But, I focused on my goals, my growth, and my self-worth. And, I defied the odds and earned my master's degree from a top tier university. I was 1% of the 1% who ever do anything like that. 

Through all of this, I learned some essential truths:

*Self-worth is cultivated, not granted. No one else can define what you deserve or who you are.

*Self-love is an action, not a feeling. Choosing safe living situations, continuing your education, and asserting boundaries are all ways to honor yourself.

*Resilience is built in the moment-to-moment decisions. Every choice to keep going, even when it was terrifying or exhausting, strengthened me.

At 54, I am finally telling my story in my own words. I’m no longer defined by lies, rumors, or cruelty. I survived decades of bullying, betrayal, and hardship — and in doing so, I learned the power of self-love, perseverance, and valuing my own life. My story is mine to tell, and my life is mine to live — fully, boldly, and without apology.