I experienced a traumatic event in my past; it happened when I was a vibrant, ambitious graduate student. One night, after having too much to drink, I woke up to discover that not only had I lost my voice, but so much more had been taken from me.
The feeling of losing your voice is utterly devastating. For a time, it feels as if you’ve forgotten you ever had one. You go through life with your head down, wishing to be invisible. You try to erase the memory, telling yourself it was nothing more than a nightmare. You take on the blame, feeling fortunate that your life was spared. You stop drinking, stop laughing, and lose sight of who you once were.
The pain is profound, yet during that time, you often feel so numb that you struggle to grasp the reality of your situation. You enter survival mode, focused on getting through each day, hoping that the next will be a bit less frightening.
If you’re fortunate, like I was, you eventually find supportive individuals who help you regain your voice and reconnect with yourself. I found a wonderful therapist who guided me in making sense of the trauma, helping me learn to accept it and move forward.
Fast forward ten years, and I find myself happy and thriving again, blessed with a loving family and endless gratitude. I’ve rediscovered my voice, thanks to my amazing partner, supportive family, skilled therapists, and a fulfilling career. Life feels mostly normal again.
However, certain events can trigger memories of my past. Recently, I came across a news story about a sexual assault case at Stanford. I usually avoid such news, as it can be disturbing and provoke painful memories. But when I learned the victim read a powerful impact letter in court — a deeply emotional 12-page statement — I couldn’t look away. I hung on every word, feeling the raw emotion of her experience, which resonated deeply within me.
That’s the harsh reality of trauma; it lingers. You can build a happy, healthy life, yet unexpected reminders can thrust you back into those dark moments, as if no time has passed. Although these instances happen less frequently now, they can still be debilitating.
For me, this means a few days of reliving memories I’d rather forget, feeling vulnerable and hyper-aware, constantly looking over my shoulder, especially around men. The most challenging part is the isolation. I hesitate to confide in my partner, Sam, who, despite being loving and understanding, struggles to process my experiences. I can’t burden him with my past, especially since it predates our relationship.
I also keep silent with friends and family, grappling with feelings of shame and embarrassment. As a result, I often endure these tough moments alone, feeling demoralized and struggling to shake off lingering feelings of filth and fear.
Fortunately, when triggered, I’ve learned to navigate these waves without succumbing to despair as I once did. I allow myself to feel, shed tears not only for myself but for countless others who have faced similar fates.
Now, as a mother, my fears have shifted — I worry about my daughter. Late at night, I find myself anxious, hoping she never faces the same horrors. It’s a heavy burden, but I’m slowly realizing that talking about these issues is crucial.
Discussions surrounding sexual assault are critical. We must educate our children about healthy, respectful relationships and the importance of consent. Shying away from these conversations only perpetuates shame and confusion.
To all the moms out there, I urge you to have these important dialogues with your children. Teach them about respectful relationships, how to prioritize consent, and empower them to set boundaries. It’s a challenging but necessary conversation. If we don’t speak up, we risk allowing the cycle of silence to continue.
Summary:
This article reflects on the journey of reclaiming one’s voice following a traumatic experience of sexual assault. The author shares their struggles with isolation and triggers, as well as the importance of supportive relationships and open conversations about consent and respect, particularly for future generations.