Life After Sexual Assault

TW: Sexual Assault

I consider myself a writer. I write poetry, love letters, monologues, and journal entries. I write to deal with my emotions, my sense of self, and I use it as an escape.

Something that I have noticed is that when you’re a writer, the things around you influence most of your work. All my life I have been taught to not let anyone have any control over me — especially a man. Yet, I cannot help but find pieces of my abuser tucked between my words.

My life has been very different since the day I got sexually assaulted.

One thing I learned is when a person goes through something traumatic, we don’t really think about their life after. We know them in terms of their situation, but we fail to consider how their life may change and take a different direction.

Every day you live as if nothing ever happened. You go about your days while carrying around this baggage just constantly repeating to yourself “It wasn’t my fault.” This isn’t just a small bruise but a permanent scar — one that didn’t get consent to being put on your body.

Now, it’s not to say that there haven't been any good days since the incident. I found love, I’ve had days filled with laughter, good company, sunshine, and comfort. I began smiling and seeking things that make me feel good. I’ve found my voice and encouragement to stand on my own two feet. And still, even with all of this positivity there are still days where none of it matters. My progress feels as if it has restarted and even the thought of him triggers my mind. Sending me into panic mode wishing I could turn off my brain and the screaming thoughts just for a second.

There were days where I hysterically cried as I saw him at the same social events. I cried screaming that it isn’t fair that someone who inflicted so much pain upon another individual is allowed to laugh, and live their life happily as if nothing ever happened.

And there’s a range of emotions that I feel towards him. Anger and hatred are easier to deal with compared to sadness. Anger gives me power; it allows me to express my thoughts in my own way without feeling sorry for myself or him.

But as soon as that rage wears off, I am stuck alone and afraid.

The feeling that no one will believe me, the feeling that I made it all up, but the one feeling that plays in my head is that there will be no consequences for his actions.

I’ve gone through the process of seeking help and guidance after what happened to me, however one thing that has appeared to be a mind block is that even if I go through the energy drainer of reporting him; explaining, and reliving the situation again, giving statements, evidence, and my point of view, I’m scared it will all be for nothing.

I fear that I’ve suffered and in some twisted way he may come out safe.

As time goes on, I become more afraid that my story is dissolving. That after a certain amount of time it’ll be too late to take any sort of action — as if my pain has an expiration date. I ask myself “Could I have done something differently?” “Was it my fault?” and “Did I deserve this?”

And maybe I’ll spend all my life circulating between those three questions in my head, but I know I don’t want to live like this. I don’t want to live with the label of “victim” attached to me, I want to be a survivor but more importantly remembered as a fighter.

Even from this darkness there has to come some good.

It took me a very long time to even accept what had happened to me, let alone report it. As I started seeking help and telling my story it began to ease the pain off my shoulders and gently nudge me into my healing process.

Little things in my life trigger what happened, and I am still in the process of unlearning all of that but acknowledging the fact that they are there is definitely a good start.

I wouldn’t let anyone intimately touch me for a while but step-by-step I began to not only open up but begin to love and recognise my own body even more.

Where previously my body was touched by the hands of evil, I claimed it back as my own. I took care of it and nourished it into the person I am today — and baby this new fresh version is untouchable.