Alaina’s Truth: From Silence to Strength

I want to take a moment to express my heartfelt gratitude to Ms. Alaina Osuka for sharing her story with us today. Her bravery and strength in being the first to speak on this platform are truly inspiring. Alaina and I share a deep bond forged through a traumatic experience—the loss of our dear friend, Evelyn. As you read her journey, I encourage you to approach it with kindness and empathy. Each story is unique, and Alaina's experience sheds light on the resilience of the human spirit. I am incredibly grateful to have her as a friend, and I hope her words resonate with you as they have with me.

Pictured above is Alaina Osuka

Alaina is a deeply introspective and resilient person. Her story reflects a woman who has endured immense pain and trauma, both from her childhood and her young adult years, yet continues to push forward. She shows remarkable strength in her ability to confront the hardest parts of her life, from suppressing the memories of her abuse as a child to processing the tragic loss of her friend Evelyn.

Despite the overwhelming emotional and psychological challenges she's faced—living with anxiety, depression, PTSD, and the effects of substance abuse—Alaina is committed to healing. Her journey is marked by moments of intense vulnerability, such as her recognition of her own dismissiveness of mental health in the past, and the brutal honesty with which she recounts her assault and the aftermath.

What stands out most about Alaina is her determination to live beyond survival. She’s not just focused on getting through life; she wants to reclaim it on her terms, finding peace and joy after years of merely getting by. Though her healing is still in progress, Alaina’s courage in sharing her story with the world, especially after her difficult experiences, shows her desire to empower others while continuing to rebuild her own sense of self.

Here is Alaina’s story:

Truthfully, I don’t even know where my story begins as a survivor. I suppressed feelings that I was a victim as a child and I did not come to terms with it until a few weeks ago. Admitting it out loud was the hardest and scariest thing I have had to overcome recently, but with the support of my therapist I am working through learning how to heal. I am hoping that admitting my trauma will help me answer questions within myself and learning how to be gentle with myself is a constant reminder in my head. I am not ready to freely discuss what happened to me as a child, but this is only a part of my journey to healing.

Mental health awareness wasn’t a huge topic in my family growing up and things were always seen as simple “black and white”. Healing and trauma are not as simple, and becoming healed or going through a trauma is not a simple “from point A to point B”. I have been guilty of being dismissive of mental health, and now living with anxiety, depression, and PTSD, I vow to never dismiss the importance of mental health for myself or others.

My freshman year of high school, my good friend, Evelyn, committed suicide. No one had any answers and I remember everyone always told me “she was so happy, she was so lively”. I did not see the signs something was wrong, even the day of, I may have dismissed any signs that something was wrong. I remember for weeks she had come to school dressed in pajama pants and may have been “grumpier” than usual, but her heart was always there. She was the friend who taught me to be loud, proud, and not care what anyone thought. I remember her streaks of blue hair and giggles as we cackled about nonsense, loud and crazily, no matter the weird looks anyone gave us. The day she took her life, I remember we saw each other that morning and we listened to my iPod before the first class. When the bell rang, she had asked for a hug and I was not an affectionate or hugging person, but something told me that I should give her a hug. I remember awkwardly embracing her and she squeezed me hard and said, “see you later”. I was a little thrown off with the hug, but I remember looking at her and seeing she was wearing a striped shirt and jeans for the first time in weeks. The day went on and we had our last class together, but she didn’t show up. I remember our classroom was in view of the train tracks outside and the train had stopped. I remember a classmate who kept repeating, “it’s Evelyn, she’s dead”. I remembered getting so angry with her, wondering why she would say such a thing, but it stuck with me because Evelyn wasn’t in class. I left school and went to lacrosse practice, not thinking about the news that I knew I would have to deal with. I had a shoulder injury and was sitting out that day with another injured teammate, and she asked me what I think happened with the train stopping by school. I remembered just saying that I wasn’t sure, but I had never seen the train stop before. After practice, my mom was there to pick me up and when I got in the car, she said, “Cely called, are you okay?”. I broke down in tears because the inevitable news that I didn’t want to face was confirmed. I had never experienced a death in my life before, and the realization that my friend was no longer with us, hit me like a truck. I honestly don’t remember the rest of high school in detail, but that day stuck with me. I was ready to get out of that school and move on to a different life. I remember attending some workshops of support groups, but I know I quickly “got over it” because life goes on. My parents had tried to stick me in therapy, but I was never consistent with going and I never discussed my true feelings for fear of it getting back to my family. I was constantly in trouble with my parents and trying to grow up too fast. I was dismissive of my own feelings and powering through my life without emotions, and in turn, I was guilty of being dismissive of my own friends. I was a selfish friend and the idea of mental health and what that meant was a foreign territory to me. When a trauma happened to a close friend of mine in high school, I did not understand what that meant for her or understand how she felt. I was guilty of viewing it as black and white and dismissing the effect it would have on her life. Now, she’s turned part of that pain and trauma into a platform to support survivors and advocate for mental health awareness.

It still has taken me years to realize what the importance of mental health awareness was. I had learned toxic behavior patterns in my relationships, but hid behind alcohol and drugs for most of college and my twenties. I avoided accountability for my own actions, or what my own actions would cause to people around me. I surrounded myself with people who easily enabled my lifestyle, because they were in the same life. I would subconsciously hang out with other friends less and less if they didn’t have the same lifestyle or were heading to different paths in life. I had created a group of party friends and our outlet was endless amounts of alcohol and drugs every weekend. My desire to drink and party every weekend wrecked any relationships I would have because it was easy to blame my own actions on drinking, rather than facing the fact that I may have other issues in my life. My relationship with my family was strained due to my lifestyle choices, and the friends I partied with weren’t my true friends. I felt alone and isolated and I decided to move to Las Vegas for a fresh start. Except, moving to Las Vegas, I didn’t start fresh; I continued the same patterns, but now with less people around me that I knew and a new set of people that could enable the same habits. My desire to party and distract myself from my own self led me to three days I would never forget.

I was assaulted on December 17th, 2019. I met my rapist randomly and he had been asking me to hang out. The night I decided to hang out with him was because I wanted someone to drink with and no one else was available. I remember him asking me why I wasn’t drinking, and I remember having an uneasy feeling telling me not to drink too much, to remain aware of your surroundings. I remember taking a phone call in a room and he had blocked me in the room, demanding to know who I was talking to. I immediately knew I needed to leave, but he told me I wasn’t allowed to and said he had a gun. He had told me he had plans for me to make money for him and if I left, he would send people after to jump me and beat me up. I froze and obliged because I realized I wanted to live, but at the same time I wish he would have killed me. After assaulting me that night, the next day he forced me to drive from Las Vegas to Los Angeles. He promised me that I would be able to make it home in time for my birthday and the holidays, but I needed to make money for him first. First, I thought he was a pimp, but with more digging he had told me he was a drug dealer and had ideas for how I could make him money that didn’t involve prostitution. He had taken my phone and purse from me and said it was because where we were going, the people were wary of their privacy and new people. I began to imagine ways I could escape, but I needed my phone and I needed my purse with my ID. I didn’t want him to see my ID because my address was still listed at my family’s home and I didn’t want him to have access to my family. I remember thinking about fake passing out or faking an illness so 911 would have to be called. But the conversations I heard in that house led me to believe that none of these men would care if I got hurt, much less if I died. The next morning on December 19th, 2019, I had a chance to escape. He asked me to retrieve a charger from his car and I took his keys and fled. I had asked for my phone back to text my “family” in case they were worried about me. I had my purse with my ID and all I needed was to escape. I called a friend who happened to be nearby and told her to get me an Uber down the hill from where I was. I drove his car down the street and left it at the gas station, keys inside and jumped into the Uber. I was able to fly back to Las Vegas and tried to resume my life as normal. I had a job, but I had been a no-call/no-show since I had been kidnapped. I planned to go to work and tell my boss that something happened to me and was ready to beg for her to let me keep my job. That was the first time I had a panic attack with physical symptoms. I was shaking, sweating, and it felt like my throat was physically closing, making it hard to breathe. I ran to the bathroom and called my friend, who was able to call security and got me an escort to my car in the parking garage. I finally told someone what happened and he said I needed to get a rape kit. After spending 2 hours in the hospital doing an exam, I got a call from my boss who fired me for no-call/no-showing again. I realized that I would need more support from my family and friends than ever before. I flew back to the Bay Area on December 21st, 2019 and told my mom and dad everything. They convinced me that I needed to file a police report; they would support me every step of the way and assured me I would be safe. I filed a courtesy report with our local police department on December 23rd of 2019, but I didn’t receive a call from Las Vegas Metro PD until March of 2020.

I spoke with a detective from Las Vegas and a few months later, I received a call from the DA’s office. I was informed that they would be pressing charges: two counts of sexual assault, kidnapping, and coercion. I would have to attend a preliminary hearing in front of the judge and that he would be present. I ended up having to return twice to complete the hearing. The DA informed me they would be offering a plea deal, but if the defendant chose not to accept it, I would have to testify in a trial. The preliminary hearing proceedings took almost a year to complete and another six months passed before he accepted the plea deal. He pled guilty to felony coercion only, and I felt angry and cheated. However, the DA explained that it’s best he plead guilty because he can’t appeal anything and this would remain on his record. If we were to go to trial, there was a chance he could win or have lesser charges brought, or if I won, then he could appeal and have the entire case dismissed. I felt so guilty for being angry because I knew that so many victims didn’t have the same chance or outcome I did. The DA told me that I should continue to live my life and let justice do its job, that I needed to move on because I did a good job of coming forward and standing up. His sentencing was finally completed in July of 2022. I thought that would be the end of this, but I finally received my first restitution payment after two years since he was sentenced, and it has thrown another loop into my life.

This journey to healing has not been easy. Sometimes every day I am reminded of why I feel the way I do. Some days I am so angry with myself that I can’t just “get over it”. Some days I am so sad and want to stop the noise in my head. Then I remind myself that I am a survivor, not a victim. I survived the worst nightmare and I will continue to live because I survived. I have always been a survivor and I wish I could live without the thought that I have to survive this world. I just want to live. I want to live my life because that’s what I deserve. I didn’t come this far to fight for survival when I deserve to live. Being a survivor is not easy and living after you had to fight for that life, your own life, is the hardest challenge I have ever experienced. I don’t know how to unlearn survival mode when I’ve been in it my whole life. How do I change my approach to my life and embrace it because I want to, not because I need to? I need to focus on learning how to live as I breathe today, and I hope by sharing my story, it will help us all remember to live our lives as survivors. I will live my life because I deserve to, day by day. I will unlearn the habit of being a survivor because I deserve that peace. I want to be at peace in my life, living. I don’t want to find peace by trying to survive my life. I don’t want to find peace by ending my life either, because I didn’t come this far and fight this hard to give up. I am not going to give up because this is my life. This is my old life and my new life that will be its own “ever after” in my story. I will not be forced to end my life because I was forced to survive it. I will continue living because it is my own choice. I have the control to live my life as I want and should. Thank you to Nadia and SAMA for its support and message. I hope that my story helps someone know they’re not alone.

As I finish reading this powerful story, I am struck by the immense courage it takes to share such personal and painful experiences. The journey from survival to healing is often fraught with challenges, but your words highlight the strength found in vulnerability.

You remind us that healing is not a straight line; it’s a series of steps, some forward and others back. Acknowledging trauma and the complexities of mental health is crucial, not just for our own growth but for fostering understanding and support within our communities.

Your story serves as a beacon of hope for others who may be struggling, showing them that they are not alone and that healing is possible. Thank you for your bravery and for inviting us to walk alongside you on this journey. Your resilience is inspiring, and I hope it encourages others to find their own paths to healing and peace. Let us continue to share our stories and support one another, creating a world where every survivor feels seen and valued.

From left to right: Mia, Alaina and Nadia having a girls night out. 

Thank you, Alaina, for sharing your story.

From struggles to strength, together. Always.