Hey there loves,
I have honestly thought about writing this piece over and over again, and while I think a part of me always intended to, I never quite felt like the timing was right. And I cannot specifically say why I feel compelled to do so now, only that I do, so here I am.
I think it's safe to say that I have never given any sort of disclaimer in any of my work prior to this, but I will say before I get started that the topic of this piece may very well cause discomfort in the least and be a trigger at the worst.
It's a topic that seems to be flooding our social media feeds, perhaps spoken with caution in groups, sparking outrage and bringing change across the world, slowly if not surely.
I am going to talk to you today about rape.
Here in America, someone is raped roughly every two minutes, a rape is reported roughly every six minutes, and one in six women experience sexual assault in their life time. One out of every ten rape victims are male.
It would be easy to tell you that I wanted to discuss this topic because it is such a deafening problem, which is true, but it wouldn't be the whole truth; and while it's also true that this blog is meant to be a place to talk about my path, and to share and to hopefully help to educate and inspire others who perhaps face some of the same struggles that I myself have faced - this topic falls under that category.
Because I was raped nearly three months ago.
Of all the events in my life thus far that have caused me to question my life, and my path, this definitely did it. This experience has challenged me in ways that I didn't know I could be challenged, and I struggle with it every single day.
This is an event that can potentially change literally everything about a person.
I have seen some very dark times, and one way or another I have managed to come out it for the better.
This was the first time that I genuinely questioned my ability to come back from what I was experiencing. For the first week following the rape I could barely sleep, I didn't want to eat, and I cried almost continuously.
It took me four days to work up the courage to go to the police. By that time just about all of the physical evidence was gone, so all I was left with was my statement and the clothes I had been wearing that night. Despite the lack of a rape kit, I went to the hospital to be treated for any potential STIs.
Over the next couple of weeks I struggled to re-assimilate myself back into my life between constant emotional breakdowns, and phone calls from the officer working my case seeking as much detail and clarification for the report that would later be sent to the DA's office. It would be almost two months before I received a call informing me that they had received the police report. They told me that it would be thirty days to process the report.
Within that time I shared what had happened to me with only a few members of my immediate family, and just as many friends. I ended up quitting my job because I was unable to work reliably, and I began to wonder if I would ever be able to find a way to be comfortable in the world again.
I literally hated being alive. I felt dirty and unwanted in my body. I showered compulsively wanting to scrub away the ghost who had so violently violated not just my body but my trust, and at times I found myself simply scrubbing until my skin was red.
I forced myself to quit crying because I was so afraid of being lost in that darkness of hating myself. I would barely sleep because all of my dreams were the shadows of what I remembered from that night.
I could so scarcely feel the old self, I wondered if she even existed. I fought the constant waves of guilt for my situation and argued inside of my own head for hours about what I could have or should have done differently to prevent what happened to me.
There was the reminiscence of the old me who knew that it wasn't my fault, that regardless of circumstance; rape is never justified, but I could only hear her part of the time and her voice was so quiet, like a half-hearted whisper being carried away on the wind.
It took some searching, but I was able to find a counselor who specialized in sexual assault victims. The first several sessions were filled with the tears I had denied myself, and while there was a part of me that hated myself for doing so, the other side felt so relieved to be able to simply let it go, because that's what you're supposed to do in counseling, right?
It's only been three months, and I am still here. It took some doing but I managed to find my footing again and I was able to find a new job. I still have trouble sleeping and some days I need to remind myself to eat.
I look back and find it almost hard to believe that it's only been a few short months. Each day is so long and carries so much weight with it, but then in the blink of an eye a week has gone by.
I don't know what might happen next when it comes to the legalities.
But I do know that I've made it this far. And even though I don't go a day without thinking about that night, and right now I see multiple things a day that remind me of the individual, I've gotten to a place where I don't hate myself any more.
I don't blame myself for the selfish, destructive actions of another. I found the strength within myself to take back the reins of my life. I may not have been physically able to stop what happened, but I can and do say no to anyone else running my life.
Truth be told I have been very lucky, I have received nothing but support, compassion, and encouragement from those I have shared my story with. Too many never hear or experience those things, and I have been given nothing but that and more.
For all of the struggle and trauma I have lived through prior to this, I feel confident in saying that I don't think I would have made it through without the love and support of my friends and family.
Whether my case continues to move forward or it does not, this is just the beginning of this particular journey. Being a survivor of sexual assault has changed my life forever, I will never be the same person that I was before.
To quote a friend of mine,
"This is the only piece of you he is ever going to have."
If there's one thing more I can do for myself, it's to make sure it's the smallest damn piece manageable. Every day that I wake up and choose to take one step closer to the self that I know I can be, that piece gets a little smaller.
I remind myself of that when the I can't sleep or when I have a day where I feel that guilt threatening to come back. Some days are harder than others, and some days I have to hold onto the stubborn nature that tells me that I cannot let him win.
Because every day that I live my life, every day that I find a reason to smile, to laugh, every day that I feel sincere gratitude for the gifts that I receive from the Universe, is a victory.
One in every six women experience sexual assault, one in every ten rape victims are male.
It heart breaks every time I see a headline telling the story of another victim. Roughly one in a thousand rape cases result in jail time. I find myself crying multiple times a day, it doesn't get easier seeing those things.
It's easy to feel like the steps I've taken thus far are pointless, because how special could my case be? What about my experience, my testimony could be so radically different where I receive judicial justice?
To be perfectly honest, I don't expect it at all. I am hopefully. I pray and plead with my gods every day to not let this happen to someone else who perhaps is too frightened to come forward, who is eaten alive by shame.
Whatever the legal outcome of my case is, I can walk away knowing that I have done everything within my power. So much of this feels as though it's out of my hands, and it's frustrating having to wait for a voice on the other line that might never call.
It's difficult to trust that things will work out the way that they should. It's difficult to believe that one day, all of this will be behind me, and that I'll eventually look back on this have a thick layer of scar tissue to point to as an example of yet another battle wound.
But then I see all that I have written here, and I recall the day sitting down on a couch terrified of telling my boyfriend of two months at that time, that I had been raped less than twelve hours earlier. I recall his anger and confusion and his heartbreak, I remember his gentle strength as he held my hand at the police station, and the look of certainty in his eyes every time he told me that together we would make it through this.
Of all the things that have changed because of this incident, there are some things that I refuse to let change.
I will never stop loving people, I will never allow myself to be hardened to the point where I care nothing for the people around me, whether by choice or necessity.
I will not remain silent. I refuse to let what happened to me be buried without any resolve, whether by judicial means or by simply owning my own trauma and one day using it to help be the strength for others who struggle with similar obstacles.
I will always trust that there is a positive to balance the negative, even if I can't always see it.
For all of those who have personally been a victim, or know a victim of sexual assault, know that you are not alone. You do not have to feel ashamed, you are not responsible for another's actions.
You are loved, you are cherished, you are worth it.
Light and love to you,
Thealynn
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