You know, it’s taken me a long time to get to this point. The point where I felt comfortable sharing the events that have been less than pretty in my life. There are many things I haven’t even told my own family, sharing a lot of this stuff here hasn’t been easy. I know it doesn’t come across that way since I’ve been blogging for the better part of five years, but honestly nothing makes it here until I’ve emotionally come to terms with it, which for those of us who suffer from mental issues can take aeons compared to most other people. A lot of the events I’ve talked about, I’ve talked about many times with varying different degrees of acceptance or emotional perspective, and due to the PTSD side of things many of my memories have been incomplete or too overwhelming to write down.
As I’ve made it through the bulk of my recovery and truly come to terms with things I felt it was time to share the specifics of my most violent sexual assault. What better time to do that, than during April which is Sexual Assault Awareness Month? I had grand intentions of compiling a bunch of stories from different people also ready to speak up, but as I sent the word out I was looking for guest submissions I was met with resounding silence. Everyone was very encouraging as far as me posting my own story, and supportive of the idea to bring awareness, but even with the option to remain completely anonymous, it was just me and a few brave souls willing to post our submissions.
As the days and weeks went by with my mail box empty the self doubt began. I started listening to that (figurative) internal voice telling me that I was crazy, and fell prey to the external criticism of society. I wrote, rewrote, scheduled, unscheduled, saved, deleted, and recovered everything at least twice if not more. I even made appointments with my therapist discussing my posts and the emotional impact I could face by publishing them.
It was then that I realized the lack of response to my request was exactly the reason I needed to share. We still live in a society where people are afraid to talk about this. That’s not okay. I’m not naive enough to believe my story here on this unrecognized, unadvertised blog will change the course of sexual assault awareness across the world, but even if it helps just one person take a stand against the backwards laws in this country, take a stand against a culture that says it’s okay to victimize women with out consequence, take a stand and say that this is not a woman’s issue but an issue of humanity, take a stand and teach their sons that consent doesn’t mean the simple lack of the word no, but the presence of a resounding yes, it will have accomplished it’s purpose.
I survived this attack for a reason. I took on my mental circus and won for a reason. I’ve been blessed with my gift for writing and connecting with audiences for a reason. All it takes is one small stone to start a ripple of change through out the world. Who am I to decide if my stone is worthy enough to be thrown?
In honor of all those who suffer in silence, I dedicate these stories and posts to you.