There. I said it. But it doesn't feel good to say - not that it should "feel good" to say. It certainly isn't easy to say either. I say it quietly and with hesitation - almost as if I should be ashamed that it happened, but why? Why do I feel ashamed of something I had no control over; why am I ashamed that my "no" wasn't good enough?
What if I had fought harder?
What if I had screamed?
What if I haven't allowed myself to be isolated with this person?
What about my conversation could have been changed so he wouldn't see me as his next victim?
Victim. I hate that word and refused to be labeled as such. In this moment - I take back my life. In this moment I am overcoming my best kept secret from a night of regrets and "what ifs" because the thing is that this person made a decision to take my choice from me. This person took away my right to "no!"
As the night replays like a nightmare in my dreams I am haunted by that simple question of why...
18 years old and attending a friend's birthday party - I had decided to sleep over. It seemed safe - everyone was sleeping over. What I didn't expect was to be woken up by someone I had known so well, drunk, and forceful.
No!
No!
Stop! No!
At this point I am crying. I'm fighting. He was stronger.
Just like that - Something I had decided to save until marriage was stolen. I was broken. What's worse - he denied it happened.
For whatever reason, I told myself it didn't happen too - until I couldn't escape the hurt and brokenness. It happened. And it sucked. I blamed myself and decided to keep it a secret. Eventually telling my closest friends as years passed by. I thought I had dealt with the issue - but I hadn't. Randomly the moment would replay in my mind and suddenly I would experience the event all over again.
I was broken.
Finally, I went to a women's retreat. After hearing from the speaker - I was wrecked. She had been through similar things and her story was powerful. I decided to speak to her about what I had gone through. She said these words:
"You were raped. What happened to you was real. It happened. Your choice was taken in that moment - but you know what wasn't? Your purity."
Like weight lifted off my shoulders. That wasn't considered my "first time" because it wasn't my choice.
I felt better that day - but guilt and shame still found a way to creep into my life again. No sooner than I came to terms with being raped, I had also come to terms with my abusive marriage. Only one heartache at a time. So I pushed that event back again - like there is some sort of quota on the amount of grief one person can experience. I decided I would feel better if I just never thought about it. Again, living like it had never happened.
That brings me to a few months ago. I went out with my friends and a guy felt like he had the right to touch my body - and I was filled with rage. I most definitely followed him, yelling along the way that he can't just touch whomever he wants - and using a few other choice words as he scurried away. This time I didn't keep quiet. Encouraged by friends, I told security. It was my mission to handle it - I would not keep quiet.
As I continued to process through that moment - I realized the anger I had felt was because he felt like he had rights to my body - just like that "friend" felt he had several years prior. I faced it - and I was angry; a stage of grief I had previously never allowed myself to feel.
Thoughts of the recent event, coupled with being raped a few years prior had consumed my thoughts. I wanted to scream - or do anything other than be completely silent.
So that's what brings me here...where I am calm, rational, and can make those thoughts and feelings into some sort of sense.
I am here, writing this, because if every experience I've gone through were to stay hidden, then they would have been for nothing. But if one person can read these words, realize this wasn't their fault, tell someone, and seek help - then this was worth it. People learn from the experiences of others. They grow. They get better.
I also realized that I had refused to take this pain to God because I could barely even admit it happened to myself. I prayed. I prayed for healing, strength, comfort, peace - and that God would use my voice and the story I have. I prayed that this would just be another story I have overcome, and that through it all I would continue to have that joy and passion for life He has placed so deeply in my heart.
I smiled. I felt better.
I'm not a victim anymore; I'm free. I'm transparent - and finally talking about this feels so incredibly good. As I sit here, crying, and ready to post this huge part of my life for the world to see...I feel strong.
We heal when we become transparent. We find community and new ways to deal with the devastating reality of the tragedy we have suffered.
We get better. I feel better. Thank you, Jesus. <3
-jennilea.
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