My Sexual Assault Experience and How I Lived with the Trauma
Can you really move on from a sexual assault experience? Or do you just get better at living with the trauma?
Warning: graphic details of a sexual assault experience.
I have been living with anxiety for the past 10 years. With continuous therapy, supportive surroundings, and a newfound passion for yoga and meditation, I would say that I am doing pretty OK. Just about two years ago, I started to accept that the root cause of my anxiety was my sexual assault, or more specifically, the guilt of not reporting it, potentially allowing the monster to do it to another woman.
The Night My Life Changed
The year was 2011, a Tuesday in Spring. I was out celebrating a friend’s birthday at a pub, about 10 minutes away by car from my flat. I left the party early, around 1:30 am as I was a little bit tired. A close friend of mine helped me fetch a cab, and I left to go home.
It was a silver cab, friendly driver, tall, strongly built, wearing a white shirt and a dark grey overcoat, deep dark eyes. He was making small talks on the journey home, asking how long I have been living in the city, who I lived with, what I study in school, etc. Nothing unusual.
We arrived in front of my flat, and as I got out of the cab, he also got out of the driver’s seat. I didn't think anything of it, as in the city where I lived, the driver is required to ensure that we have entered the door at the destination, for safety purposes.
There were two small steps to the door of the building of my flat, I had one foot on the top step while I tried to unlock the door. That’s when I realized the cab driver was walking towards me. Is everything ok? he asked. Yes, thank you. I said. He walked closer and I started to panic. My hand started trembling and I had trouble unlocking my door. As I finally managed to unlock the door, his hand was gripping my upper body. He started kissing my neck, I could not move as he was too strong for me to push away. His palm was closing my mouth so I could not make any noise, and his other hand unbuttoned my pants and went inside my underwear. I tried everything in my power to get him off me. Thankfully, he did not notice the two small steps leading to the door, he tripped and as he was falling, I stumbled into the building and slammed the door.
I ran up the stairs to my flat, hands still trembling to unlock the door to my flat, still in shock of what just happened. Went straight to the bathroom, started crying on the floor and I was vomiting all over the place. My friend heard the commotion, walked into the bathroom, and without me having to say anything, she figured out what had happened.
I was lucky she was the person who was staying at my place that night. She stayed calm, cleaned me up, helped me shower, gave me a glass of water and a cup of hot tea. She waited until I calmed down and she sat me down on my bed and asked me if I wanted to go to the police. I started crying uncontrollably again, she then said tell me everything you can remember, in case you change your mind. I started to describe everything that I remembered, she diligently put it down on paper, and just hugged me to sleep.
The Aftermath
My life has never been the same since. In the aftermath of what happened, I became socially anxious, I barely left my flat, I stopped attending classes, I stopped hanging out with my friends, I did not have any urge to do anything. I was depressed, lost my confidence, had low self-esteem, I did not feel worthy. A couple of months on, with a subtle push and support from my loved ones, I started my journey on seeing a therapist.
Finding a therapist in my city was not difficult. My university had some in-house therapists, so I made an appointment, and I expected to immediately feel better. Three sessions on, I grew more frustrated, I was not opening up, I became angry and I stopped going. It was only about 6 months after that a friend of mine told me that finding a therapist is like finding a partner. There needs to be a connection. With a little more encouragement, I started seeing a different therapist. The cycle went on and on, I went to different therapists, referred to other therapists, still unable to open up. Until I met my 7th therapist.
The connection with my therapist was unbelievably easy to establish. Within a few sessions, I was able to dig into my past experiences, starting to realize what had actually happened to me.
The Realization
For such a long time, I was in denial of the whole experience. I thought I wasn't raped, so it was nothing really. With my therapist, I began to understand that sexual assault does not always involve rape. There were not many discussions around sexual assaults at that time, at least not where I lived, so I began researching and learned about other people’s experiences. This is when I started to accept that yes, I was sexually assaulted. I was touched without my consent, I had my privacy violated, I was assaulted by a stranger.
Why Didn’t I Report it?
The more I talked about my experience with my therapist, I started to feel so many different emotions. I realized that this experience has changed who I am, not only in a bad way, but it also made me stronger, more powerful, and more careful. But the one thing I still struggle with today is the fact that I did not report the assault to the police.
Being over the shock of what happened and accepting the fact that I was sexually assaulted, I was able to go back to that night and dissect my thought process in the middle of it all. I was in shock and I could not think logically. I was not able to process what had happened to me. I was terrified, embarrassed, and disgusted with myself. There were loud voices in my head telling me things like if you go to the police, remember he knows where you live and the police might think you are just a drunk irresponsible 21-year-old, they’re not going to take you seriously and you don't even have the plate number, how do you think the police is going to find him?
If you were to ask me why I did not report the assault, let me tell you, it is not as easy as it sounds. And having been through it, I believe that only those who have been through it will know how difficult it is to report such an experience.
The Guilt
Now that I have had years to process this experience, one thing remains. It is the feeling of guilt. Often I think back to that night, wishing I had gone to report it to the police. I sometimes wonder how many more women were treated this way by this monster just because I did not take action.
I hope that if there were more victims, they were able to get through this difficult experience. I hope they have a powerful support system just as I do, and that they are also able to get the help that they need as I did. I don’t think I will ever get over the guilt, but I hope that my voice can help at least one person out there who is going through a similar experience.
Triggers
Although I am now able to move forward with my life, it is a lie if I say that I am truly over with what happened. I don’t think that’s possible. Things still trigger me. In crowded places, I get anxious if someone accidentally touches me. When I hear someone talking about sexual assaults, I still get angry that this keeps happening to many women out there. My heart races when I hear a song, watch videos, or movies about sexual assaults. I even get angry when I hear people speak so disrespectfully of women. These are just the things that I have to live with, and when these happen, I am lucky to be able to take a deep breath, separate my thoughts and my feelings, meditate a little. I just hope that other people who are going through similar triggers as I have a way that works for them to get out of this dark place.
To all the survivors out there…
I am sorry for what you experienced. I am sorry that some monster just decided that they can do whatever they want to you. I am sorry that you have to go through this, all the pain, anger, frustration, and sadness. Remember, it is not your fault.
You are not defined by this experience, you are so much more. You are a bright light in this world and do let that light shine bright. Spread your love and kindness to others, show these monsters that their actions will not break you. Seek help if you need to, it’s okay, it’s the brave thing to do.
You are not a victim, you are a survivor. Do not let anyone write your story.
