The Aftermath Pt. 2

Don't forget to read the first part of the story, Aftermath Pt. 1 - 
https://shieldmaideninstitute.blogspot.com/2019/03/the-aftermath-pt-1.html

The Aftermath Pt. 2 by guest blogger Kimmy Strain

If the good guys are raping us, who the fuck are we supposed to trust?

What ppl don’t understand about being traumatized is how difficult it is to function in a state of shock. I am certified in trauma and even though I understand the mechanisms of my own disorder, it still blows my mind what trauma does to the body and brain. I was unable to process that my best friend had raped me. I was trying to convince myself that that wasn’t what it was. 

I desperately wanted it to be a misunderstanding. I didn’t want to get my friend in trouble. I didn’t want to be a statistic. Law enforcement and the judicial system don’t believe victims anyways. Reporting it would probably do more harm than good. I’d asked my mom in the past if she would kill a man who put his hands on me. She looked at me like I had just asked the stupidest question, and I had. That woman had served 30 years in the military and almost got sent overseas to fight. It was unnerving to think of my mom killing my best friend, knowing that she would suffer the consequences of his actions. 

My sweet, selfless mother who was a beloved figure in our community, a family consultant for 15 years, and a blood donor for 14 years (mostly for platelets which primarily help cancer patients). In prison for killing her daughter’s rapist. I vowed to not speak out about my rape while she was still alive. I couldn’t put that pain on her heart. So she helplessly watched me self-destruct and I couldn’t tell her why.

I couldn’t tell anybody why. I felt like the world hated me and that I didn’t deserve my loved ones. I relapsed back into addiction after having been sober for years. I overdosed twice the week of Thanksgiving. I ended up with neurological problems and now, as of recently, gastrointestinal problems from the magnitude of the trauma and chronic stress. 

My mom passed away right in front of me last September ten days before the anniversary of my brother’s suicide from a pulmonary embolism after 23 years of smoking to deal with her own traumas and chronic stress. Part of me feels like I literally worried her to death. I have lost half of my family and I’m only 28. And I’m trying in vain to keep the rest of my family afloat myself.

Days after the rape, my best friend and I talked on the phone. He got angry that I insinuated that what happened that night was rape. That’s when the manipulation really started to take off. Over the years, he had a way of subtly guilting me when I voiced disappointment when he constantly made promises he couldn’t keep or when I spoke up about things he did or said that hurt me. He would always find a way to make it seem like his mistakes or shortcomings were my fault. 

I wasn’t understanding enough, I wasn’t smart enough to make some connection, or he’d bring up things he’d done for me in the past to make me seem crazy for insinuating that he had the capacity to hurt me. After we made up, he’d shower me with more love, time, treats, to make up for it. I didn’t know that this was called gaslighting, which is emotional manipulation and a tactic of emotional abuse. And it manifested into that conversation—he ultimately convinced me that it was all a big misunderstanding, although I said no. Although I pulled away. Although I tried to leave. 

I have childhood trauma, and I was gaslighted a lot. My whole life I struggled with not feeling good enough. I had low self-esteem and constantly doubt myself. I forgave my father. He is a totally different person than the dad I grew up fearing. He is the only man who has hurt me who has genuinely changed for the better. He gives me hope. We are both working on healing. But early childhood trauma alters a child’s neurocognitive development. I know why I seem to constantly be finding myself being manipulated by men who claim to love me. I will be spending the rest of my life healing from 28 years of emotional abuse. Trauma is in my blood, but so is resilience.

My vehement denial and fear the night I found out my ex was accused of rape mirrored the reasons behind my denial and fear I had the night of my rape. In the very beginning of my relationship with my ex, he had told me that he had been accused of rape but he convinced me that it was a misunderstanding... just like my best friend did.

I became both a hermit and a pariah. I had quit my job two weeks before opening up on Twitter in order to escape four and a half years of workplace sexual abuse from customers and coworkers alike. The outside world in its entirety felt unsafe. I stopped trusting everyone, but especially men. I spiraled into the most intense period of dissociation I’d ever felt in my life. I didn’t think I was human, much less a woman. 

I literally thought that I was some irredeemable monster incapable of growth and change, unworthy of patience and grace. I defined myself by my mistakes and the mistakes of others. I started to believe that I deserved all the times I’d been violated. I thought back to one of the worst ones I’d experienced at a tweetup. I was dancing with one of the guys who called himself my “big brother.” I wasn't interested or anything, we were just dancing together. He hiked up my dress while we were dancing and stuck his finger in my vagina. On the dance floor. 

People saw. No one said or did anything. I felt betrayed. I thought these ppl were advocates for women’s rights? Why weren’t they practicing what they preached? One guy I went out of my way to avoid used to slap my ass really hard whenever he saw me. Another guy kissed on my neck when we greeted each other with a hug. He had a girlfriend. So many blatant violations of my space have happened in plain sight and no one ever said anything. After having a traumatic experience opening up, I’d wondered if I’d deserved it all.

I think often about how society treats survivors. The thought of anyone accusing me of lying about my sexual trauma makes me laugh. How arrogant to assume that someone is lying about such a soul-shattering incident just bc you weren’t there to witness it yourself. 

Whenever I tell someone that I have PTSD, they assume that I’m military. I could lie and say I am and it wouldn’t be questioned. I tell the truth and say that my diagnosis was made when my brother committed suicide. No one would assume that I’m lying about that, either. But if I said that I also have PTSD from sexual violence, it would be met with doubt. It’s baffling. 

Even when ppl see women get violated in public no one ever says anything. I have accepted that ppl’s ignorance and lack of empathy does not define my reality. It’s a fact that I have survived multiple instances of sexual violence. My “proof” is my testimony, the honesty of my words, my daily struggle to resist self-harm and destruction, the courage it took to sit down and write this out. I owe myself the truth. No one can tell me that my truth is invalid. I will continue to tell it.

I spent this past year trying to cope as I lived with the heavy burden of an untold story of multiple traumas. I spent this past year trying to cope with emotional pain so intense, it became physical pain that has never completely let up. But I kept going. I managed to finish my degree, graduating summa cum laude in the top 5% of my class in two honor societies. 

I finished my trauma certification, acing my exam moments after calming down from a panic attack. I’m currently waiting to hear if I made it into grad school. I used what I learned in school to form my own self-care plan. I take my meds. I see a therapist, who is now serving as my mentor as I pursue the field. I have an incredible support system, I do yoga and have an incredible sisterhood with the women I have met at the studio. 

I have been sober for a year. I don’t eat half a bag of Kit Kats for dinner anymore. I work part time as a substitute teachers aide and now feel safe in the workplace. I have never lost my sense of humor. Anime and Ariana Grande (her general existence and her music) are still the only things that hold my interest when I’m at my lowest. No matter how small, I find reasons to keep going. No matter how much pain I’m in, I still give myself props for trying. I am proud of my growth.

I promised my mom the night before she died that I wouldn’t kill myself. I know that she is truly at rest. I keep going bc I have a promise to keep. I want this to reach people who are in similar situations, who have a story similar to mine. I want anyone reading this who has regretted opening up about their trauma, esp sexual assault, to know that you know they can still open up again. 

You SHOULD open up again. Your story matters. Your trauma is real and valid. Your pain is valid. Vulnerability and transparency are not weaknesses; the weakness lies in those who take advantage of them. It takes immense strength and courage to bear your soul. The only ppl who benefit from your silence are your abusers, haters, trolls, mental illness(es), and society’s fucked up standards. So speak up. No mistake you have forgiven yourself for, no flaw that you have embraced can be used against you to diminish you. Your pain is not your fate, but if you sit down with it, it will lead you to your purpose. No matter what anyone says, you deserve to be here. There is life after trauma, and it is beautiful.

And so this is the burden I am now laying down. I turn 29 on Friday. The last year of my 20s, an incredibly powerful decade full of remarkable growth. Last year I felt that I had nothing to celebrate. But this year? I do. And what I am celebrating is my freedom.

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 - 

https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/talk-to-someone-now/

Here is a link to FREE COUNSELING for Military service members and veterans - 

https://giveanhour.org/get-help/