Christina
Christina
Music speaks for me when I don’t know what to say
Christina’s fondest memories growing up involved music—singing in a children’s choir, blasting Carole King and The Beatles, and dancing in the living room with her mother and brother.
I could sing before I could talk. I sang on stage at Carnegie Hall in 2010.
But Christina had an uneasy childhood. Deeply troubled by verbal and physical abuse, she spent hours at a time throwing tantrums.
My room was above the kitchen, and I would bang on the floor until the ceiling fan below shook. I would get jolts of pain going up my legs.
The outbursts, Christina believes, were the result of never being taught how to deal with negative emotions like distress or anger. Her parents brought her to therapists, but she refused to participate in treatment. By age 12, she was cutting.
“I was pleasantly surprised how super supportive my friends and others were.”
By 15, she landed in a hospital ER. Then came her senior year, prom weekend, and the night—and again the following morning—she vividly remembers being raped. The horrific trauma led to a suicide attempt, and a total of six hospitalizations.
I didn’t talk much about it until the last year of school. It was sexual assault awareness month, and I wrote a post on Facebook.
I was pleasantly surprised how super supportive my friends and others were.
While post-traumatic stress disorder challenges Christina on a daily basis, a few times a week she experiences an episode of dissociation. Mild episodes impact her ability to focus. Severe ones could last many hours.
Sometimes I am unresponsive, sitting in a corner, hyperventilating, and staring at the ground. I am right back in the trauma, reliving the rape.
Christina finally found two therapists she adores who specialize in trauma treatment. She adopted an approved emotional support animal, her cat, Lorelai, and she’s back at school, building on her social work degree with a master’s in student affairs.
She hopes for a career in residence life, helping all students, including those with disabilities, feel safe and comfortable in their home environment.
Christina continues to rely on music as therapy. She cites a line from a song in her favorite musical, Wicked, as particularly relevant.
And this gift or this curse I have inside—maybe at last, I’ll know why.
