PEOPLE know me nowadays as the girl who always smiles, who is very religious, who always goes out on a limb to help others, and who is brimming with optimism no matter what. Little do they know there’s a reason behind that smile, a reason only a very few know about. I was a rape victim.

I was 14 years old then, a new transferee to an all-girls school. I found it hard to adjust since I was a quiet girl who was used to the company of boys because I was an only girl in the family and back in my elementary days, I always hung out with the boys. I found it very hard to make friends and I thought the girls in my school were rather too maarte and stuck-up so whatever companionship I needed, I tried to find elsewhere—like the Internet.

It was on the Internet where I met Brian. He was four years older than I was and he seemed really nice, sweet, and I was happy I found someone who would listen to my thoughts. We chatted till the wee hours of the morning which carried over to the phone and soon we were already planning to meet.

Since my parents were very strict, we made a plan. He’d pick me up from school in the afternoon, go to his place and hang out, then he’d bring me back to school. I’d tell my parents I’d be staying a bit late in school because I needed to catch up on my schoolwork.

The plan went through as planned: he picked me and took me to his place. Little did I know he was planning something else other than just hanging out.

When we got to his place, he showed me his bedroom. He then tried to undo my underwear, saying “Eto lang.” He took off his pants, and to my surprise, he had a condom on, and he proceeded to force himself on me. I struggled and resisted, but since he was stronger and taller, I couldn’t do anything but cry and let it happen. After it was done, he brought me back to school. He was saying sorry, but I was too numb to speak or act.

When I got home my mom saw my bloodied skirt and I just told her I had my period that day. I quickly went to my room, too stunned to cry or react. What was a 14-year-old to do?

I blamed myself for everything that happened because, after all, it was my decision to sneak out. I feared that if I told my mom things would get worse and they’d be stricter than ever. I couldn’t tell anyone in my family and I didn’t have a set of friends back then so I kept it all to myself.

Brian kept on calling me weeks after that and asking me to go to his place again but I felt so bad that I stopped talking to him and never returned his calls.

Trauma

What stopped me then from killing myself was the physical pain that I might feel and the thought that if I failed, I’d have to face the shame. I lost 35 pounds in three months.I also let my grades slip and failed in a lot of subjects, even seemingly easy subjects like Filipino and Christian Living.

I got depressed after that incident and almost stopped eating altogether. I would just eat a banana for breakfast and nearly gave up dinner. I always locked myself in my room and cried all the time. I had thoughts of wanting to die since I thought I had nothing else to live for. I thought of slashing my pulse, overdosing on pills; I even researched on harmless drugs that, when taken together, could be very lethal.

Polyps

My problems weren’t over because, after that ordeal, I stopped having my period. I was scared that I had gotten pregnant.

I got my period back three months later, but kept on bleeding for more than a week. This happened every period after that. Sometimes, having lost so much blood, I’d faint in school.

I went to see a gynecologist. She discovered I had polyps in my uterus which was perhaps caused by the stress I had been going through. Since I was too young to undergo surgery to have them removed, she gave me iron supplements to treat my anemia from the blood loss and hormones to regulate the bleeding, but they didn’t really help a lot since the polyps were still there and I continued to lose a lot of blood every time I had my period.

I continued keeping to myself, shunning everyone, and people started to notice. But my family thought I was just going through a phase so they let me be. In school, people thought I was just the quiet one who wanted to be alone so they, too, just let me be.

Healing

On Christmas that year, six months after my traumatic experience, I received a book from my kuya called “Being Happy” by Andrew Matthews. I was touched by the dedication he wrote on the book. Although my brother didn’t know the cause and the extent of my sadness and depression, although he didn’t know what was happening, he said he would always be there to help, and that he loved me.

I read the book and it helped a lot in my outlook. Reading it, I realized that I was not a victim of this world and my happiness was my decision. I could be happy. I realized I had to do something. It was the start of my healing. From there I decided that I would put that horrible experience behind me and I would try to be happy.

At home, though I never told my family about what happened, I tried coming out of my room more and interacting more with them. In school I focused on studying and opening up more to other people. Abut nine months later, I was walking along the school corridor when realized something. Perhaps it was grace but at that moment I just felt the coolness of the air and the beauty of my surroundings. At that moment, though nothing had happened externally, I had a life-changing realization.

I realized that I had no reason to be so down, that though I had lost my virginity to someone I barely knew, let alone care about, I was very lucky I had a good family, caring parents who sent me to a good school, and that was a big enough blessing. Though I had lost something important to me, I was alive and had so many other things to be thankful for.

I continued reaching out more and it was by this time I found a set of friends who, though I had never told them of my ordeal, happily accepted me for who I was, quiet, shy and all. From there I started feeling happy about myself.

Retreat

What completed my healing was a retreat I attended a year-and-a-half after the incident where I felt how much God loved me and I confessed to a priest everything that happened.

At first I was scared he would judge me because I was young and I wasn’t a virgin anymore, but he told me what happened to me wasn’t entirely my fault and that whatever sins I had done, whatever feelings of uncleanliness I had, didn’t matter to God, who loves me. He told me that no mistake, no sorrow is too big not to be undone by God’s grace.

After that retreat, it felt like a big weight was lifted from my shoulders. Miraculously, too, after that retreat, my gynecologist was surprised that the polyps were no longer there. It was then I realized God had healed me both inside and out.

I’m 23 now and it has been almost nine years since. I’ve long accepted what had happened to me and I’d happily tell anyone who wishes to know since it was a turning point in my life.

Only a few friends know about it though. I once shared it in a retreat with girls I barely knew because I know not all people are ready to know that part of me and the usual reactions are the same: pity.

I refuse to let people have pity on me though. I’ve realized that although there are things I have lost, I have so many other things to be happy about and, beyond that, I’ve discovered my faith which is more important than anything I have lost.

E-mail the author at carms.agape@gmail.com.

Editor's Note: Published on Page C2 of the September 27, 2006 issue of the Philippine Daily Inquirer; Published with permission from the author.

[This column is open to those who want to share how God touched their lives in different ways – as an individual, a parent, a sister, a friend.]