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Self improvement is different for everyone, even more-so for survivors of rape and childhood trauma. I know this is a sensitive subject, but it’s one that impacts so many lives and it needs to be addressed.
As recent as one year ago, I couldn’t speak these words (or even think about them) without feeling physically ill. Today I can openly say that I was raped multiple times as a young child.
Throughout my life I have carried the burden of overwhelming guilt and shame as if it was somehow my fault. I laid awake at night wondering if I could’ve fought a little harder, screamed a little louder, ran a little faster. I tortured myself with thoughts of what I should’ve and could’ve done differently.
I wore a smile that covered up indescribable pain, incessant fear, and emotional agony. The questions replayed in my head over and over and over. Was I too stupid, weak, or pathetic to defend myself? Nobody stood up for me—was that because I was undeserving, unworthy, unwanted, unlovable? What was it about me that made me his choice?
I wasted so much time on self blame. In my adult years, my way of dealing with it was to completely suppress it. I pushed it out of my head, swearing that I wouldn’t think about it ever again. Little did anyone know, it was right there under the surface.
It was there in my timid, apprehensive demeanor. I was afraid of everything. Afraid to trust people because they may see in me the same vulnerable little girl that he saw. Afraid to tell anyone my big secret. Afraid of being judged for not coming forth, for not escaping, for allowing myself to be a victim. Nonetheless, I was a highly functioning, successful young woman who did a great job of keeping this secret at bay. Little did I know, it was only a matter of time before it resurfaced.
While being sexually harassed on the job, everything I’d tried to forget came back to me. The sexual harassment was not rape, but it was a trigger that caused serious emotional re-injury. Suddenly, I found myself in that familiar place—blaming myself, wondering why me, too ashamed to speak up, too afraid to defend myself.
Once again, I internalized what was happening to me and assumed responsibility for the actions of the perpetrator. The nightmares, hypervigilance, insomnia, fear, constant worry, self blame, and feelings of helplessness hit me like a ton of bricks. I was 11 years old again—but now in a grown woman’s body.
I hated the person who was doing this to me, but I didn’t hate him as much as I hated myself. I wanted a way out of this life. The world seemed like such a scary place and I just wanted to escape. After all, I couldn’t even go to work without feeling afraid.
Suicide crossed my mind frequently just as it had when I was a kid. I wanted to feel safe. I wanted to stop being afraid. I wanted to go somewhere that I wouldn’t have to stand up for myself since I didn’t have the courage to do so. But then again…maybe I did have the courage after all.
Fast forward…
With a little help from a friend, I made some “big girl” decisions. I reported the creep that was harassing me at work and took measures to sue the company for negligently leaving me in harm’s way. That’s not all I did.
I checked into a program designed to help people with post traumatic stress disorder. That’s right—I admitted that I had not truly dealt with what happened to me as a child. I admitted that I needed help, I took responsibility into my own hands, and I committed to taking back control over my life. That step alone took a lot more courage than I thought I had.
When I say the journey has been a hard one, it is the ultimate understatement. However, it is so worth it.
One thing that helped me to overcome the guilt and shame was to put things into perspective. I was told to drive by schools and look at 10 to 12 year old kids. As I watched them play and laugh, I couldn’t imagine why I blamed myself for so long. I looked at these kids and realized that there is no way in hell anyone in their right mind would fault them for being violated in the way that I was. It couldn’t possibly be the child’s fault.
To think of one of those kids blaming herself for being raped—oh how it makes my heart ache. When I take myself out of the equation, replacing me with another person, I see so clearly that the guilt and shame of rape are not warranted.
I acted like a child because I was a child. I did what I could to defend myself. The person I confided in did not help me, but that is also not my fault. No child can be held responsible for the actions of an adult. And no child deserves to be violated.
As suggested by my therapist, I wrote a letter to my rapist. In this letter, I didn’t hold anything back. I gave myself permission to express every single feeling that I’d been holding in since that day. I even read the letter aloud to a group. And I did so shamelessly.
More than anything, what came out was anger. Anger turned inward is depression, so it makes sense that I hurt so much for so long. Finally, I let it out and let it go. I gave ownership of the wrong to the person who committed the wrong.
Through this letter, I released myself from all responsibility for what happened. But the best part of what came out of writing that letter was forgiveness. Despite all the hurt and pain I’d felt, I forgave him. Not because I give a damn about him or his life, but because I deserve to be free. Forgiveness is the key to that freedom.
I will never forget the experience of being raped, but I am no longer ashamed of it. I am spilling my guts right now to anyone who cares to read this. I couldn’t have done that a year ago, but I am doing it today because I know there is nothing to be ashamed of. I no longer carry the guilt around like a boulder on my shoulders.
Finally, after years of not dealing with this trauma, I AM FREE.
If you’ve been through something similar, I wish you peace of mind and a complete emotional recovery. Healing is absolutely, 100% possible and you can overcome the guilt and shame.
I am not implying that writing a letter is all you need for healing. My healing also included Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing (EMDR), several weeks of intensive therapy, inner child work and more. The journey continues; however, I’m able to move on with life as a new and improved me. Now that’s what I call self improvement.
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