The Aftermath Pt. 1
Anniversary
(copied from FB post written by Kimmy Strain on 07Mar2019 at 12;15AM)
Today is a very important day to me. Last year today, I planned to commit suicide just two days before my birthday (March 8, International Women’s Day). I’ve spent the last year fighting tooth and nail to heal from what almost killed me. I’ve spent every waking moment fearing what would happen if I gathered the courage to speak my truth to the world.
For months I have sat with my pain and begged it to show me what it needed in order to heal. What I did not realize is that each day I hung on and continued taking the baby steps forward, I got that much closer to self-liberation.
One year later I am no longer writing a suicide note to my family. The most powerful thing I can do to conquer my pain, I’ve realized, is not to end it, but to strip it of its power by speaking my truth instead. What I am opening up may be difficult to read, too long, too overwhelming to finish. That’s fine. All I ask is that you share this post. My goal is to reach those who need to see this.
About two years ago, my best friend and I fell in love. He fell long before I did. I wasn’t ready for or interested in anything romantic or physical, as I was focusing on myself and healing from a messy breakup. He promised that he would never make the first move. If and when I felt ready to take things further, I would be the one to initiate it. We revisited this often. He understood. He respected it. He was gentle, loyal, patient, and went out of his way to make sure I felt comfortable physically and emotionally.
He played a crucial role in my healing process—from my heartbreaks, mental illness, family trauma, my brother’s suicide. He set the bar for what I expected from my friends. Three weeks after my 28th birthday, things finally got physical. Our first time was weird. We decided to not talk about it.
And from then on, we were happy with what we then had. We had unconditional love and support as well as intimacy without expectations, a blessing in our individual missions of working on becoming our best ourselves. We were in a place in our lives where it just worked for us. I had considered it the healthiest, most fulfilling experience with love I’d ever had. The next six months were blissful.
And from then on, we were happy with what we then had. We had unconditional love and support as well as intimacy without expectations, a blessing in our individual missions of working on becoming our best ourselves. We were in a place in our lives where it just worked for us. I had considered it the healthiest, most fulfilling experience with love I’d ever had. The next six months were blissful.
I used to use Twitter on a regular basis for almost a decade and belonged to an online community known as Black Twitter. Over the years there were these events and parties called tweetups. I had gone to many of them. On November 8, 2017, I opened up about the reason why I stopped going. Many men online and off, I’d learned, masquerade as women’s allies and self-proclaimed feminists but turn out to be completely different behind the scenes.
The reason why I stopped socializing was not only due to my social anxiety which many were aware and supportive of, but my fear of sexual assault, particularly at these tweetups. I had been violated multiple times by men who openly supported and commended me for my transparency about my struggles with mental illness over the years.
I blamed myself for being uncomfortable with their actions. These were good guys, right? Maybe I was trippin. These men that grabbed my ass, my chest, kissed up on me—none of them meant any harm, although nonconsensual sexual contact IS harmful. But I didn’t want to start drama. Maybe I should just be cool and brush it off and accept it as normal. Some of these men called themselves my “big brothers.” Some were known as "the protective ones." Some presented themselves as gentlemen. All the types of men society says women are supposed to be able to trust. Yet they regularly showed me why I no longer can.
I opened up only to say “Hey, this happened to me. I want to get this off my chest. If you still go to these things, please be careful.” I didn’t name names. Women gain nothing and risk everything by speaking up about sexual assault in general, but naming names can be particularly dangerous. Esp when men with power are involved. My phone erupted with notifications. I panicked, suddenly aware of how powerful my words were. I took a Xanax to control what quickly became an intense anxiety attack, took a shower, and went to bed as the medicine kicked in.
I hyperventilated moments after waking up to countless notifications. Texts, calls, DMs. I logged on and I saw names trending. An ex was one of the people who was named as an alleged offender. I called him crying, apologizing. Apologizing for speaking up about being sexually assaulted. I took the blame for a man’s actions, interrupted karma that wasn’t mine. I didn’t realize how eerily familiar those feelings were.
My body had such intense visceral reactions to the shock and fear I felt that morning, my lips went numb. It seemed like my body would never stop shaking. I hyperventilated and dry heaved on and off for hours. My head spun so badly, I couldn’t walk. It never let up. I relived everything at once, every incident I had been violated over the past decade, as many of those men who texted me to congratulate me for speaking up, silently hoping that doing so would keep me from outing them. I went on autopilot as my shock, fear, and denial took over.
I voiced my doubts that my ex’s accusers were telling the truth. I externalized the fury I felt with myself and lashed out at others. Functioning entirely in a triggered state, the mind and body’s survival mode, I tried in vain to convince others that the accusations weren’t true. What I didn’t realize was that I was trying to convince MYSELF that they weren’t true. If my anime-loving, awkward, quirky, church boy ex was capable of rape, so was someone else I considered to be a good guy. Working towards my degree in the behavioral and social science going into the mental health field and finishing my certification in trauma-informed approaches helped me identify the situation for what it was: a phenomenon known as traumatic re-enactment.
The night things got physical with my best friend, he started making me uncomfortable. He began to come on too strong and ignored my discomfort. I was not ready to get physical. I did not initiate anything. I tried to leave and he insisted on walking me to my car despite my objections. As I turned to say goodbye, I said “no” bc I knew what he was about to do. But he kissed me anyways. He didn’t stop pushing himself on me. I tried to get in my car but he stood in the doorway so I couldn't close the door. He took up the doorway, leaning in and kissing on my neck despite me pulling away. Then he grabbed my hand and put it on his penis.
I tried again to pull away. I was visibly shaking. His selfishness took priority over my physical and emotional safety. The last time I had been so consumed by shock, fear, and denial was the night of my brother’s suicide.
The world seemed to dissolve around me. Was this the same best friend who had vowed to honor my wishes and respect my boundaries? I didn’t know how to handle the overwhelming fear that he would physically hurt me the more I resisted. This man had saved my life in the past and now I feared him with every fiber of my being. How was this happening? I trusted him. But saying “no” wasn’t working. Pulling away wasn’t working. Trying to leave wasn’t working.
I don’t know why what I was wearing would be relevant, but I was in my usual outfit of a hoodie, my Spider-Man tee, pants, and boots. Nothing showing but my hands and face. I was sober. Society taught me that I’d be safe from sexual assault if I followed those rules. It’s not true but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore. This man, as they all do, had a choice. And he still decided to rape me.
The rest of Kimmy's story, Aftermath Pt. 2 will be posted tomorrow 27March2019 at 0700 PST.
Here is a resource for anyone who has been the victim or knows someone who is a victim of SEXUAL ASSAULT - https://www.rainn.org/about-national-sexual-assault-telephone-hotline
This is a resource for anyone who is considering or knows someone who is considering SUICIDE -
Here is a link to FREE COUNSELING for Military service members and veterans -
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