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Contrary to what some believe it wasn’t because I was getting close to dealing with my problems. It wasn’t because my girlfriend and I got into a fight.

It wasn’t because of any kind of drug or alcohol use or abuse.

It wasn’t even over finances.



I tried to kill myself because I was alone.  In a marriage, yet alone.

In a house, yet alone.  With friends and family, yet alone.



Alone feeling like I did in New York.  Drawn line in the sand, standing up for what was right, but no one else stood with me or for me.



Sitting in a group, tears welling up in my eyes, wanting to speak, but having no one to relate to the horror that was my assault. I walked out of the Vet center not even able to breathe. No one was noticing my plight, my tears, and my fears.

Just me as always facing it alone.



Seeing my then therapist yell and scream at me over not spending anytime with my girlfriend.  Yet I was the one who was at home.  I cooked dinner in the evenings and lunch on weekends. Big house with animals and yet I was alone.



Alone, because others were raped and/or assaulted by the opposite sex.  Alone because some people assume it was a relationship while others who were in relationships with me use it to exploit my fear.



I tried to kill myself because I felt alone. Because when you’re a woman who’s raped or assaulted by another woman and your sexual orientation is not straight, then people see it as a relationship gone bad and your complaint is vengeance.



Vengeance, such a funny word.  It doesn’t explain the dug in marks on my back.  The nightmares, my former issues with snakes and wallockers nor why when I see myself without my braids I am drawn back to those days.



I tried to kill myself because I felt alone.  Too embarrassed and shamed that an MP couldn’t fight off another MP.  Assist, protect, and defend; yet no one did that for me.  Instead there were stories and rumors of me being substandard.



One of the first female mountain bike officers on base. Certified through a civilian school. My squad leader once said.” Tardy, you are excellent at knowing how to soldier, but if you mess up or anyone thinks you mess up. They will nail you to the wall."



I tried to kill myself because ten years later I am still the twenty-two year old who said to everyone up her chain of command. “ I want out of the room.”

I tried to kill myself because I still see the words on my door.

“Traitor, Buddyfucker, Bitch, Nigger, Slut.”



I tried to kill myself because this was the time of year when the worst of it happened.  When I was suddenly put under investigation long after I’d been out of the room.  It was when I was pulled into the CID area, sat in front of a double mirror, asked questions during a polygraph and told that my polygraph came back false, yet if I just said yes to everything it would all go away.  I also met the supply sergeant of Headquarters Company who witnessed the whole thing from the other side of the mirror.



I tried to kill myself because I can never explain to someone what it’s like to be raped and assaulted by one MP and then by the military laws you go by and defend.



I tried to kill myself because I felt I had no other recourse.  No one believed me then; who would believe me now. Ten years later I am still alone.



I tried to kill myself so that the nightmares would stop, so I could wear a sundress and not be afraid of explaining the scar, so I wouldn’t have to keep telling people why I was no longer comfortable with that therapist and that group.



I tried to kill myself because I saw my girlfriend and a team leader exploiting my fear and vulnerability of the assault and confrontation it triggered in my life.



I tried to kill myself because I was alone, and with my trust broken I no longer felt safe and that is why I tried to kill myself.