I experienced the trauma of sexual assault once in my life. It happened during my younger years when I was a vibrant, ambitious graduate student who let loose a bit too much one night. I woke up the next day feeling as if I had lost not just my voice, but so much more.
The experience of losing your voice is utterly devastating. For a time, you forget that you ever had one. You keep your head down, wishing to go unnoticed. You try to convince yourself that it was all just a nightmare, feeling undeserved guilt for what transpired. You remind yourself how fortunate you are that you survived, despite everything else that was taken from you. The laughter fades, the joy dims, and your sense of self becomes obscured.
The pain is indescribable; yet, in that numbness, it’s difficult to realize the depth of what you’re enduring. Survival mode kicks in, and each day feels like a battle where you merely hope tomorrow offers a little less fear.
If you’re fortunate like I was, you find a support system—a network of people who help you reclaim your voice and reconnect with your true self. A therapist can be invaluable, guiding you through the fog of confusion and pain, helping you to accept your past and move forward.
Fast forward ten years, and I’m happy and thriving again, filled with gratitude for my loving family, supportive friends, and fulfilling work. My voice has returned, nurtured by my incredible partner, my family, and the insights from some wonderful therapists. Life feels mostly normal once more.
Yet, there are moments when the past resurfaces—like the recent incident of sexual assault at Stanford. I usually avoid reading about such news as it can be triggering, but I couldn’t ignore the powerful impact letter released by the victim—a 12-page statement she read in court. Each word resonated with me, triggering a torrent of emotions that left me sobbing and angry. I felt as if I could have been the one writing those haunting lines.
And then, the sleepless nights returned, accompanied by flashbacks that transported me back to that dreadful night from so long ago. That’s the insidious nature of sexual assault; it never truly leaves you. You can work toward healing, but certain triggers can pull you right back into that dark space, as if it happened just yesterday.
For me, this resurgence brings days of painful memories, unexpected tears, and a heightened sense of vigilance. I find myself peering over my shoulder, on guard, especially around men. The worst part is the isolation that accompanies these feelings. I can’t share this with my partner—my loving, compassionate husband—because his frustration only adds to my burden. He doesn’t understand, and it’s not fair to expect him to.
I don’t share these moments with friends either; it still feels shameful and burdensome, despite knowing I shouldn’t feel that way. Telling my parents is out of the question.
So, I endure these episodes in silence, feeling stripped of my voice yet again. No one sees my struggle, the reason behind an unusually long shower, or the sleepless night filled with nightmares of being trapped.
Fortunately, when I do find myself triggered, it no longer leads me into a spiraling abyss of depression and unhealthy coping mechanisms. I’ve learned to be kinder to myself, allowing for a few days of healing when needed. Now, when I read another victim’s heartfelt statement, my tears are not just of sadness but also of anger—anger for all the women who continue to suffer in silence, bound by our shared shame and fear.
As a mother now, my worries have shifted. I’m not just concerned for myself but for my daughter’s safety. The thought of her experiencing similar horrors is unbearable. It can feel overwhelming, but I understand that talking about these issues is crucial.
Discussing sexual assault is uncomfortable, yet we owe it to our children to educate them about consent, respect, and safe relationships. Failing to engage in these conversations only perpetuates the cycle of silence and shame.
So, I urge all parents to have those difficult discussions. Teach your children about the significance of consensual interactions and the importance of saying no. It’s a vital conversation that must happen, or we risk ensuring that victims continue to suffer in silence when what we truly need is to amplify our collective voices.
For further insights on navigating these discussions, consider checking out resources like IVF Babble for valuable information on pregnancy and home insemination. And if you’re interested in at-home insemination kits, Make A Mom offers reputable products to assist you. Lastly, you can explore our other blog post for additional support and information on this topic here.
In summary, reclaiming your voice after trauma is possible, but it requires support, understanding, and the courage to speak up.
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