Sarah Carver

He Destroyed My Home.Top Story - April 2021

I am writing the following story because I want to let go of something that has made a deep impact in my life. Organizing my endlessly scattered thoughts works best for me when I write them out, so here it goes. It is no secret that I often speak my mind, but I suck at communicating about the really, really, deep things that torment me. I have gotten better but every day is still a struggle. Just to sort of set the stage, I will start off by saying that I am diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder Type 1 and Adult Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder. My story of my experience plays a particularly important role in my mental health. It diminished my ability to communicate, to heal, to be strong and courageous for myself. It turned my entire world turned dark. I have been described as unpredictable, out of control, impossible to manage and crazy. I have been told that I am a monster, and my life is worthless. I have been told that I destroy everything I touch. I conditioned myself to shrink for others, to not upset or defy them. I stayed quiet and bottled everything inside. I smiled and said, “it’s okay”, when really, I just wanted to scream and beg for someone to make the pain stop. I accepted toxicity into my life because I believed that it is what I deserved. Every single person I have ever met knows a completely different version of me. The versions of myself constantly change, as is life. And as a result, I am a variation of factors. Yet, there are only 3 people who know me entirely. Every single secret. Every single insecurity, down to the last detail. Every single emotion, mood swing and trigger. Every single thought and opinion. Every single amount of excruciating emotional and mental pain. Every single trauma. Everything that has damaged me. These 3 people's influence on my decision to finally share my story with the world will be mentioned in my following story. I had held a secret inside of me for 7 years, one that I thought I would never be able to face. I denied it all these years, repressing it so far that I eventually did not think about it at all. All it took for me to finally accept the truth was seeing a stranger’s face in a bar, increasing self-awareness and the compassion, and understanding of very 3 important people. I have finally realized how important I am, not in a cocky way, but in the way that I matter. My story matters, my healing matters, my life truly does matter. I am not staying quiet about who I am and why I am the way I am anymore. And because of this moment of clarity, I am ready to speak about something that happened to me when I was 18. Something that I tried so hard to forget, but ultimately could not escape. This is my story about the night someone stole what was mine.