About a week and a half ago, I did something that I regret so very deeply that it’s consuming my life. To give you a bit of background, I’m a 17 year old girl. A senior in high school who’s always been known as a good girl; the nice girl. I’ve always gotten good grades, practices good judgement, and has bright future ahead of her.
There’s a boy – a freshman – at my school, who I’ll call Jake. We’d had a kind of jokey, flirty relationship. Sure, he’s cute, but I knew from the start that he was bad news, plus he’s four years younger than me.
One night, he asked me if I wanted to come over to chill with him and his friend Adam. I made the mistake of sneaking out of the safety of my own house to go see him.
I made it very clear beforehand that I was not looking to do anything sexual with him, and he reassured me that he just wanted to chill and smoke some cigarettes.
I told my other freshman guy friend, Matthew, what was going on, and he warned me not to go because he was afraid I’d get raped. It’s not that I didn’t take him seriously, but I took it as an exaggeration.
But still, once I’d snuck out, Matthew suggested I come pick him up and we could drive around and talk.
I knew hanging out with Jake was a bad idea because I don’t even smoke. I drove past Jake’s house, contemplating just going back home, before I finally decided to just do it. When I got to his room, Jake was playing video games and Adam was lying on the bed, using his phone.
I sat down on the bed and we talked for a bit before Jake handed me a cigarette. I politely refused, but he eventually convinced me to take just a puff of his.
After that I refused any more. Adam asked me to come cuddle, which I brushed off as a joke. Then they brought up my ex – still a bit of a sore spot. Adam asked if we were still dating, to which I said no. He said, “Well then, come cuddle with me.”
I agreed because I thought, “Why not? Fuck my ex.”
Well, eventually, he started getting handsy. I’d push his hand away each time, but he was persistent. He moved my hand to his crotch, and I would try to pull away, but he kept pushing it back.
It was never really forceful, just very persistent.
I kept saying “no” and “stop.”
He kept asking over and over if I’d perform sexual favors for him. He even tried to shove my head down toward his penis a few times. I kept refusing, and he’d always ask why.
I felt that I didn’t really owe him an explanation, so I would either say “Because,” or I would tell him that he was too young for me. He would say “Because why” and I would say “I don’t know.” He would ask how I didn’t know and I would just turn away. Then he would repeat this over and over. It was just plain annoying.
He continued to try and touch me.
Each time I moved his hand away, he got more persistent. Long story short, I eventually gave up and just let it happen. I ended up giving him a hand job, and letting him finger me. I wanted to stop, but he flat out told me I was not allowed to leave until he came.
Jake was in the room the entire time, and although he asked multiple times if I wanted to come see something or do something else, he didn’t do anything to stop Adam, even though I clearly did not want to be doing this.
After I left there, I wasn’t entirely aware of what had just happened. All I could think was “What have I done?” and “Why did I let that happen?”
After doing further research, I’ve determined that I was sexually coerced, which can be a form of sexual assault.
I’m having a lot of trouble coping with this.
I feel dirty, I feel like a whore, even though I know that I’m not. I’ve never had sex. I’ve never even given a blowjob. The only other person I’ve ever done these things with was my ex, and it was completely consensual.
I’m so beyond upset that I let this happen to me. These sexual acts are things that are supposed to be special, not something that I’d let just anyone do.
But I did.
I let this stupid, douchebag, horny freshman boy do this to me. I know that it was not my fault that it happened, but I can’t help but feel so, so, so guilty. Guilty that I snuck out, guilty I’d even gone there in the first place.
Matthew warned me beforehand, for Christ’s sake. I could have hung out with him and everything would be perfectly fine right now. But instead, I’m consumed by regret and guilt and all of these awful feelings, and I’m stuck.
I feel like I can’t enjoy anything anymore because all of this is just looming over me. The only person who knows what happened, besides Jake and Adam, is Matthew. I constantly replay it in my mind, and I constantly want to talk about it with him, and I feel like I’m bothering him.
I feel like everyone would be so ashamed of me if they knew what happened. I want to tell them so badly, but my friends would look down on me, and my mother would be so incredibly disappointed. It would break her heart if she knew I was sexually assaulted. And I’m scared that no guy will be able to respect me again.
How will I handle a future relationship?
Do I tell him that this happened to me, or do I pretend like it never happened?
Will he judge me?
It was just one mistake, but I don’t know how I’m going to live with myself. I can’t help but feel like I’m smarter than this. I should have been smarter than to go over there, smarter than to let this happen.
But it happened, and I can’t change the past.
I need help dealing with this.
I’ve been acting like everything’s okay with the hope that eventually, it will feel that way. But it just seems so hard to believe that it ever will.
I want the anxiety to stop. I want to know that I will feel okay again. I have so much to look forward to; college next year, but I feel this is something that will drag me down forever.
I never thought of myself as the victim, but now that I am, what do I do?
A traumatic experience can mean a number of different things, from being a victim of some form of abuse or life-threatening situation, to witnessing any event where a person’s life or physical safety is threatened or where sexual violence occurs.
Many people report few symptoms or are able to bounce back relatively quickly after experiencing a trauma. And while resilience is our natural tendency as humans, some people find that the typical course of healing goes astray and many symptoms remain. This persistence of symptoms is known as post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).
PTSD symptoms, including nightmares, upsetting memories of the event, avoiding reminders of the trauma, and increased depression, anxiety, guilt, shame, and irritability or anger, can remain with a person for a long time, even many years, after the initial traumatic event is over. These longer lasting symptoms can interfere with our lives and prevent people from achieving some of the goals that may be most important to them, including performing well at work or school, or forming close and trusting connections with friends and loved ones.
Trauma and addiction have a two way relationship: people who have experienced trauma in the past are more apt to abuse drugs and alcohol as a means to cope with emotional stress; while people who abuse drugs and/or alcohol are more likely to experience a traumatic event due to their addictions. Recent studies indicate that nearly half of people who have PTSD also meet the criteria for substance use and abuse, and 75% of people who are dealing with addiction have experienced trauma(s) in their lives. In addition, many people who abuse substances also have underly
It’s unfortunate that while addiction and substance use and abuse often do help with the feelings of trauma in the short term; however avoiding emotional issues can’t last forever.
Understanding Vicarious Trauma, Compassion Fatigue, And Burnout:
Vicarious trauma generally involves a shift in the way you view the world; your beliefs about the world may be altered and/or damaged by repeated exposure to traumatic material, for example.
Compassion fatigue and burnout are related concepts that share some similarities with vicarious trauma, and a person might find themselves experiencing one or more of these states at the same time. For the purposes of this resource page, we are going to use vicarious trauma and compassion fatigue interchangeably, but for reference, the comparison is written below.
Compassion fatigue is the condition of emotional and physical fatigue that results when you feel compassion for those you care for, see on the news, hear about on the television but do not have adequate time away to refuel and care for themselves. It differs from vicarious trauma in that it is not typically characterized by the presence of trauma-related symptoms and does not necessarily involve a change in one’s world view.
Burnout is a term sometimes used interchangeably with vicarious trauma, but this condition does not necessarily involve a traumatic element. People can experience burnout when they have a toxic work environment or when they feel themselves to be doing tedious or otherwise trying work without getting enough time for rest or appropriate self-care.
What is Vicarious Trauma?
The term was first used by in 1990; vicarious trauma described the constant barrage of life and death situations experienced by nurses, doctors, therapists, first responders, and the police. To really nail down this definition, the American Counseling Association defines vicarious trauma as a “state of tension and/or preoccupation of the stories and trauma experienced by others.” It’s also sometimes referred to as secondary trauma or compassion fatigue.
With all that’s been going on in the world, it’s no wonder so many of us of walk around like zombies, trying to understand how to feel good when life – and the world seems so terrible. Social media has connected us, obviously, but it also tends to show us much suffering of others. And with all the events screaming through your Facebook (or Twitter) accounts, it can become incredibly difficult for us to feel happiness. A lot of us take social media breaks, only to find the same issues blaring at us through our television.
And it’s hard to look away; you want to support campaigns like #MeToo, send love to the survivors of mass shootings, and pray (if that’s the sort of things you do) for those losing house and home. It’s the number of awful of events occurring every single day that can make us fearful, unhappy, depressed, apathetic, and/or pessimistic.
As the speed of news flashes before us, barely giving us the chance to breathe in between horrifying things going on, it’s important for us to understand how these traumas affect us. Are they leading to bad, awful feelings? Are we reminding ourselves to take extra care of ourselves during this stressful time? Are we isolating ourselves from loved ones? Are we behaving differently; as though the constant threat is looming over us? Vicarious trauma is considered to be the cost of caring for others.
For many years, vicarious trauma was considered in terms of the helping professions: an ER doc, a hospice nurse, a therapist, a firefighter, a police officer. These were the people on the front lines: they saw things no one else had to, experienced things that not everyone would understand, and it tended to increase as time went on. How many years can a therapist listen to rape victim(s), doctors try to save dying people, nurses put into untenable situations that no one really understands before it’s all too much to handle.
It’s the advent and increasing access to the news as it happens that’s now causing previously unexposed people to feel these traumatic situations as if they were right there.
Caregiver Stress and Burnout:
When we typically discuss vicarious trauma and compassion fatigue, it’s assumed that we’re talking about medical staff, therapists, and first responders. Perhaps, though, the biggest number of people who are experiencing compassion fatigue and vicarious trauma are those who are unpaid, untrained caregivers. Caregivers are unpaid people who care for a number of different kind of people:
And if you’re a full-time caregiver, it’s likely a 24/7 job with no breaks, no reprieve, no time for personal care, no time fo fun, and no time to process anything that is thrown at you every minute of every day. This can lead to major health issues, mental health issues, feelings of being overwhelmed and not appreciated.
Please read Caregiver Resources for more information on caregiver burnout, stress, and ways to help alleviate some of that stress.
Most notably the sandwich generation, which is a descriptor for people who are both caregiving for their older adult parents who are sick AND trying to care for their children – sometimes they try to work as well. This is a major stress and often, with finances being drained quickly, caregiver stress can feel unmanageable.
As people around us age, “learning to parenting your parent” is becoming increasingly common. People in this Sandwich Generation are generally stuck in the middle between caring for aging parents and caring for their own children. The ever-increasing lifespan of people means that more and more of us will be put in this position – many of us having to do this on top of a full-time job. While living longer and longer can be excellent, each year that goes by means that age-related problems are becoming a burden on the members of the sandwich generation. These problems can include chronic illnesses, long hospital stays, multiple medications, dementia, deafness, becoming bedridden, and eventually unable to properly care for themselves. Often, without the funds, these caregivers must care for their aging parent in their own home – often with parents who need round-the-clock care.
This is nearly impossible feat and it can put a strain on everything from finances, to relationship issues, to being unable to properly parent your child.
How Do We Know If The Impact Is Too Much For Us To Handle?
As is the case with any type of traumatic event, some people will be able to handle vicarious trauma and have it not affect their daily lives. Others feel a sense of hopelessness and feel overwhelmed. Don’t expect that your response will be the same as, well, mine. This isn’t a contest and there are no real rules as to how vicarious trauma affects us. If you’re wondering if you’re experiencing vicarious trauma, look below and see if you see yourself in these symptoms:
How’s your daily mood? Is it the same as it usually is? Are you experiencing mood changes?
Are you increasingly worried or irritable?
Do you feel unsafe?
Do you feel hopeless and helpless?
Are you isolating yourself from your loved ones?
Are you engaging in risk-taking behavior by drinking or drugging to escape your daily life?
Has it become hard to concentrate?
Do you find yourself constantly thinking about the traumas?
Has your beliefs about the world changed?
If you see yourself in these statements, you may be dealing with vicarious trauma and compassion fatigue.
Who Is at Risk of Being Affected by Vicarious Trauma?
Really, anyone who has been working with trauma survivors, trauma as a part of their job, or those who experience vicarious trauma from the news can be affected. These factors may increase your vulnerability:
Having lived through other traumatic experiences
Difficulty discussing your feelings
Having traumatic experience happen on the regular at your job
Feeling social isolation, loneliness – both at work or in your personal life
People who withdraw to avoid experiences, feelings, or blame other people in super stressful situations
At work, people who’ve not been properly prepared, oriented, or trained in their job
If you’re newer and less experienced in your job
Unending, constant intense exposure to trauma on the job
Lack of availability of people to support and help you discuss your trauma
What Are Some Of The Warning Signs That You’re Developing Compassion Fatigue?
Physical Warning Signs
Getting sick more often
Sore back and neck
Total exhaustion
Insomnia
Headaches
Irritable bowel, GI distress
Rashes, breakouts
Teeth grinding during the night
Heart palpitations
Hypochondria
Behavioral Signs
Not returning phone calls at work and/or at home
Anger and Irritability at home and/or at work
Avoiding social events
Using drugs and/or alcohol
Bingeing a ton of Netflix/Hulu/TV at night
Watching high trauma shows and news as entertainment
Decreased decision-making abilities
Increasing issues in personal relationships
Challenges with intimacy and/or sex due to trauma
Frequently negatively gossiping
Changing in eating – restrictive eating or overeating
Inability to stop thinking about the trauma
Emotional/Psychological Signs
Emotional exhaustion
Negative self-image
Depression
Increased anxiety
Feelings of hopelessness
Guilt
Reduced ability to feel sympathy and empathy towards clients or family/friends
Cynicism
Anger
Resentment of demands asked of you at work and/or at home
Diminished sense of enjoyment/career(i.e., low compassion satisfaction)
Depersonalization – spacing out during work or the drive home
Disruption of world view/heightened anxiety or irrational fears
Intrusive imagery
Hypersensitivity to emotionally charged stimuli
Insensitivity to emotional material/numbing
Suicidal thoughts
What Are Some Other Symptoms That May Indicate Vicarious Trauma/Compassion Fatigue?
While many of the below symptoms can be described as symptoms of depression, there’s much more to symptoms of vicarious trauma; these symptoms are a bit more like PTSD because they are in relation to a number of involuntarily traumatic situations. It’s the culmination of a large number of problems and trauma all rolled into one.
Avoiding talking about the trauma
Beginning to feel numb to what they are experiencing
In a constant state of fight or flight or flee or free
Survivor’s guilt
Sleep issues (sleeping too much or insomnia)
A free-floating anger or irritation at others
Losing sleep
Fear that they’re not doing enough to help others
Dreams being overtaken by trauma
Feeling less and less joy for things they once loved
Feeling trapped and helpless; unable to get out
Intrusive thoughts about the trauma(s)
Less feelings of satisfaction and feeling like they’re not making a difference
Absenteeism and tardiness to work
Rejecting interpersonal and physical closeness to other people
Dropping out of activities once enjoyed
Dissatisfaction with like and other people
Blaming other people for the trauma
Low-self image
Hopelessness and/or apathy
Problems with interpersonal relationships
Changing their world view
Coping With Compassion Fatigue And Vicarious Trauma:
With the news constantly spitting out horrible images of people dying, planes crashing, and catastrophic events, so naturally, we have to find ways to manage and overcome vicarious traumatizations. Let’s go over some good ways to cope:
First, you need to recognize that you’re experiencing this and start to make your very own self-care plan. This may look different for everyone, but the following ideas are the basic tenant of your recovery.
Second, make sure you’re spending quiet time alone. If you can practice meditation, you may like to try it. If you don’t, make sure that you spend some time coming back to the core of who you are. Returning and reminding you of your former self can be very centering and help you achieve some inner balance.
Third, you also need to connect and have meaningful conversations at least once a day. Talking to someone about something other than just pleasantries can do your soul a whole lot of good; especially if you’ve managed to isolate yourself.
Fourth, do something you love every day that’s good for you. Vow to learn to cook, take up a hobby you have time for, and do it every single day.
Fifth, self-care is a total must. Most of us, when we develop compassion fatigue through vicarious traumas have a tendency to avoid taking care of yourself. This isn’t an option when you’re struggling with compassion fatigue.
This is gonna make a lot of people mad, but this is important, create your own principles about dealing with vicarious trauma and your exposure to it – turn off the TV, get off Facebook, and turn your phone totally off when you’re not feeling as though you’re able to handle it. You’re not going to die if you don’t constantly read status updates or see what your BFF is making for dinner.
If your in the medical field, a therapist, or a first responder, making a plan isn’t as easy as clicking a button. This requires some serious soul searching: what makes you happy? What (pardon the phrase) sparks joy in you? These questions should help you understand some principles of care to use in traumatic situations. For example, if you’re emotionally exhausted while thinking about your job, maybe it isn’t the gig you wanted it to be. There are always a zillion different jobs for medical professionals, therapists, and first responders.
No news is good news. It’s a familiar enough phrase, between accounts of natural disasters, sexual assault, child abuse, and maltreatment in detention centers and violence against racial, ethnic, and sexual orientation, and gender minorities, there is more than enough going on in the world to lead one to feel anxious and sad.
The emotions and reactions, along with a number of other thoughts and feelings, are challenging enough to cope with. For people who have survived a trauma, this barrage of information can be particularly overwhelming and can result in feelings of hopelessness, despair, paralyzing fear, and rage at the people and systems who commit or condone violence.
The Don’ts of Managing Compassion Fatigue and Vicarious Trauma:
Unfortunately, as much as we don’t like hearing about the don’ts in life, it is necessary when it comes to healing yourself from vicarious trauma.
Don’t blame other people for your issues. They are your own and you must deal with them; even though developing compassion fatigue isn’t your fault. Wait until you’ve healed so that you can properly see what needs to change in your life.
Do not make big decisions: now is NOT the time to buy a new house, divorce your spouse, buy a fancy car. When you’ve recovered emotionally and physically from compassion fatigue, you can better assess what you really need. Even though you get an endorphin rush from a big purchase, it won’t last. And when it stops, the guilt creeps in. Always, always, always, always remember that old AA saying “wherever you go, there you are.”
Don’t bother trying a quick fix – drinking and/or engaging in risky behaviors only cover up your feelings only delays them. They’ll be right there with you when you wake up. Addiction and addictive behaviors can only escalate your continued downward spiral.
This is a toughie for most of us, because complaining can feel sooooo good, especially with people who share your views, but don’t make complaining a habit – it’ll only serve to make you feel worse. If you want to share your feelings, talk to a close friend, loved one, or even a therapist. That way, you’re dealing with your emotions and feelings in a safer, more constructive environment.
Help! My Loved One Has Compassion Fatigue and Vicarious Traumatization!
One of the best things you can possibly do to help someone struggling with compassion fatigue and vicarious trauma is to be kind and supportive. In fact, be kind and supportive to everyone you meet!
If your loved one is disclosing their compassion fatigue for the first time, it can be extremely hard to hear that what they’ve thought they’d been hiding is being noticed.
With the main focus on treatment of compassion fatigue and vicarious trauma is to do more self-care and find better work/life balances, some people feel blamed – as though they’ve caused this issue themselves and not as a result of their work – “if you feel compassion fatigue, YOU are not doing enough to care for yourself.”
See, the biggest contributions fo developing compassion fatigue is your work location, your workload, the amount of support staff available, working conditions, and whether or not you’ve gotten training in dealing with trauma-related stress.
Self-care, a wonderful ideal, doesn’t look the same for everyone, it must be figured out based upon how we’ve dealt with other types of stresses in our lives. For some, it can involve leisure activities, doing fun things, developing a satisfying physical activity regime, or getting yourself on a consistent eat and sleep cycle. The balance between self-care and vicarious traumatization is incredibly important to give yourself and your body time to process the event.
When you’re feeling overwhelmed, being social and finding good social groups to join is one of the very best things you can do for yourself.
When you can’t avoid exposure to traumas and retraumatization, you may feel helpless and hopeless. This is where getting a sense of control in other parts of your life comes in. Helping others, attend local counsel meetings, do something good for others can honestly help to counteract the feelings of helplessness or hopelessness.
Limiting your exposure to traumatic situations is important when you’re trying to reduce vicarious trauma and managing symptoms as they happen can do a lot toward making you feel better about yourself and your life. If you’re in a helping field, reducing your hours, or changing your job to a less-traumatic one can really help reduce vicarious trauma and compassion fatigue.
Additional Resources for Compassion Fatigue and Vicarious Traumatization:
The Offices For Victims of Crimes offers strategies and a toolkit for professionals and lay-people alike to help to learn to understand traumas and begin to heal
American Nurses Association did a study on compassion fatigue, PTSD, and vicarious trauma. These are the results – they’re dense but can be applied to any helping professions.
Three years ago I started dating my now ex-boyfriend. He was my entire world. I thought that no one would ever be anything close to the level of amazing that I saw in him. He was perfect. I made him perfect in my mind.
He wasn’t.
When we started dating, it wasn’t under the best circumstances. We had been friends for fifteen years. I had just moved out of my parents’ house to get away from their physical, emotional, and mental abuse, as well as their out of control drinking habits. I was dealing with the aftermath of being sexually assaulted and my parents refuting my rape claim – claiming I was just vying for attention. Heh, if only they had any idea that all the times I acted out as a teenager were linked to that one instance.
Of course, I didn’t know that back then.
We ended up moving in together after six months. It was out of necessity, really, since we didn’t have another option.
I loved everything about him. He was tall and strong and handsome and had beautiful blue eyes. He was the only man I’d ever fully given myself to, and he was the first person I ever had an intimate relationship with.
Everyone always teased me about staying a virgin for so long, but I wanted to wait until I felt I was ready. Looking back, maybe I was and maybe I wasn’t. More likely than not, I wasn’t. But in the turmoil of sexual assault, I wanted so desperately to be loved and wanted that I convinced both of us I was ready.
I took us having sex as us being “serious.” I didn’t know any better. Forget that I was 21 and not exactly naïve… I thought I knew it all. I forgave him for messing around with his ex-girlfriend behind my back. I ignored him trying to hook up with his friend’s sister at a party at my house (when he didn’t live there) right in front of me. I looked past how horribly cruel he was to me the moment he threatened to take his own life. He was perfect. More importantly, I was broken, and the only way I thought I could be put back together was the way he was telling me to.
The controlling started small. He would break things off, leave me devastated for a day or two, then come back and apologize, and swear never to leave me again. He felt insecure when he couldn’t perform when we were intimate, but he would blame it on me. Yep, the sexual assault survivor is to blame for everything that went wrong when we had sex. Even when I thought things went well, he had some problem with it. He never even turned off the TV. Christ, he never stopped WATCHING the TV when we were intimate. He would wake me up in the middle of the night to perform oral sex on him… then tell me to go to bed – I was slutty if I wanted something in return.
Eventually the controlling moved out of the bedroom. If I went out, he wanted to know every detail of where I was. It was casual; I barely noticed it at first. I went to a coworker’s birthday party and failed to mention until the next morning that I had stopped with friends to grab a bite to eat at a Denny’s on the way home. He was livid. Why was I hiding things from him? Was I being unfaithful?
Silly me: that was as much protective nature and affection as I got from him. So I chalked it up to him being romantic. Someone anonymously left me a flower at work one day and when he found out, he threatened to sit in the lobby of my workplace and beat the shit out of whomever it was. I laughed it off, but was never entirely sure he was kidding.
Eventually, I wasn’t supposed to dress-up or put makeup on. If I so much as brushed my hair out, he would make fun of me, ask who the hell I was getting all fancy for. We never went out anywhere. I wasn’t supposed to go out much any more, either, or I’d get lectures: “I was gone all the time” or “neglecting my responsibilities around the house.” Even though we lived with three other roommates, it was my job and my job alone to clean the house.
I was supposed to do his laundry. I was supposed to make sure everything was perfect. I wasn’t allowed to go anywhere or do anything. If I checked my mail, I had to give him every detail.
When we went out to group gatherings, he’d purposely act like a jackass so we would leave early. He would go out of his way to embarrass me in public so he didn’t have to stay. Work functions, my family get-togethers (he was a golden child at his family’s functions), even hanging out with my friends. He had to talk down to everyone around him.
I was only allowed to go to the bar on the nights he was working security. He had to be introduced right away as my boyfriend to anyone who talked to me, otherwise he would punish me by refusing to touch me in bed. Any affection was off the table: he wouldn’t touch me. He never held my hand in public. He never kissed me in front of anyone. He never once introduced me as his girlfriend.
He’d tell me I wasn’t an equal part of our relationship – I caused all of our fights. And I did. Mostly because if we were arguing, at least he was paying attention to only me. I’d try to stand up for myself, but it always ended with me in tears. He would say anything to make me cry, then tell me I was always crying and he didn’t sign up for my emotions.
This went on for three years. I slipped into one of the worst depressions I’ve experienced. I couldn’t get out of bed, I couldn’t shower, I could barely even get myself dressed for work. He hated when I went to work. Forget that I was the only one with anything close to a full-time job (he got paid forty bucks a weekend to bounce at the bar and went to school full-time), and I had to pay all of our bills. He hated my coworkers. They were all scum – I shouldn’t hang out with them.
On the other hand, his parents paid for everything – his rent, his car, his insurance, his cell phone, and handed him gas money every week. They paid for his groceries. I worked my ass off and was expected to pay our rent, utilities, my own cell phone, my own insurance, and for our groceries. What did he do with his money? Bought knives and guns.
When I was raped, my attacker used a gun in places I won’t go into detail about. My boyfriend kept all the guns in our closet, with the door open, on my side of the bed, so I had to stare at them. He complained that I’d never go to the shooting range with him. I can’t be near guns without shaking uncontrollably and losing it, but I went anyway. I fired guns, broke into tears, tried to improve because he was angry that I was a bad shot. But every time I cried, he comforted me, told me how well I was doing. That made him an amazing and caring man.
I was in and out of major depressive cycles. At the beginning of September, I was hospitalized after a suicide attempt. I didn’t know why I wanted to die, I just did. I tried to take a knife to my own throat. He stopped me. He talked me down. I checked into the hospital. I was transferred under a 5150 to another hospital. When he visited me, I tried to show him how well I was doing, because he was threatening to leave me.
I was discharged from the mental hospital, but he couldn’t come get me. If there was no other way, he’d get to it “when he had time.” So my best friend picked me up. That first night back at home, he was so glad to see me. He recreated our first dates, we were intimate on a regular basis, he was affectionate, and doing everything for me – just because. Our lives were finally on track now that I was finally medicated. Right?
A week later, he came home and told me he wanted to leave me – he didn’t love me and never had. He didn’t want to live with me anymore. We agreed I’d get my own place, and we’d work on us from there.
The next day, he told me he had been having an affair with some random girl from at the bar, so I had to move out of the house that day. I told him he couldn’t legally evict me, and I wasn’t going anywhere. He beat the ever loving shit out of me. I told him if he didn’t leave, I’d call the cops. Paranoid as he is, he finally left.
That night, I had been planning to tell him that I’d found out I was pregnant while I was in the hospital.
Where were my roommates? They’d taken his new plaything out to the casino while he dumped me, so, you know, she’d have a nice time and it wouldn’t be awkward for her. Excuse me?
I was angry, hurt, upset. I’d been sick to my stomach and couldn’t keep my medications down, which threw me into withdrawal. I thought I’d never feel again. I had no family, I’d been out of work, so I had no money, and nowhere to go.
I took every single piece of clothing he owned and threw it off the deck. I threw it up in the trees. I dumped it in the dirt. I emptied the entire contents of the fridge onto them and left them to rot in the sun. I packed up all of what had been ours – the bed, all the furniture, the dog, everything and moved into a girlfriend’s house.
I threw away everything that reminded me of him. It wasn’t much – in three years, he’d never bought me a birthday card or Christmas present. He always had the nicest I could afford, but I never even got flowers or a card.
Eventually, I told him that I was pregnant. He wanted proof; I gave it to him. Then I miscarried.
I called him, not sure what else to do. I figured it affected him, too. His response? “Deal with it by yourself, you’re not my problem anymore.”
I had bruises for weeks. The cops did nothing. When I went to collect the last of my belongings from the house, the new girlfriend was in his bed, and she bitched me out. We live in a small community; he runs his mouth every chance he gets: it’s my fault my roommate’s kids hate him; I tried to stab him to death (completely false); I stole the dog (I paid six hundred dollars for that dog and had him before we got together); I left him unexpectedly for someone else. There are a billion lies circulating that I have to deal with. He attacks anyone who knows me out of nowhere.
In that moment, I seriously thought my life was over.
Now it’s been almost three months. I don’t think about him much anymore, and I can appreciate the good memories we had. The more I look back on it, though, the more I realize how many signs I ignored.
So now I’m single. I am spending time with my friends and the people who matter in my life. I’m not dating yet – but it’s by choice. I want to spend some time letting myself heal and figuring out who I am and what I want not only from my life, but also from a life with a partner. I’m learning to define what values are important to me in a significant other. There are guys in my life, but I don’t feel the need to validate myself through them. I stick with my medications. I still go to counseling. I have started attendingAl-Anon meetings in my area. I’m working on saving up to move to wherever I decide I want to be. I’m living. I’m surviving.
At the end of the day, I’m only 24 years old. The last three years do not define who I am. They will always be a part of me, and I am so thankful that I was able to learn these lessons before things got any worse. Are there still days when it’s hard? Of course. But sometimes shit just happens.
She will be 9 years old in a few weeks. At her next doctor’s appointment she will be given the HPV vaccine, even though she will never be able to consent to sexual activity.
Look at her as you think about that.
Abby’s 7 times more likely than her non-disabled peers to be a victim of sexual assault. She would never be able to tell us what happened. She would never be able to tell us who did it.
And now, laws are being passed in many states—and it won’t be long until Utah tries it here—that would force her to carry the product of her rape to term. How would I ever explain to her what was happening to her body? How would I ever make her giving birth okay?
The truth is I absolutely would never do that to her. Never.
Look at her and tell me you would subject her to that. Tell me in what world would it be okay to do that to her?
If you think so, you’re wrong and I don’t want you in my life or hers. Period.
Up to 70% of college students admit to being sexually coerced.
This is her story.
I blog about dealing with owning various truths about myself – the painful ones, the happy ones, the well-lived ones and, in this case, the ones that have remained buried for years.
Many of my truths have been recent discoveries while others I’ve owned for years. But there’s one truth, one single truth that I’ve kept buried for a long time, unwilling to examine it or call it what it was. This long-buried truth was yanked up to the surface by a recent online discussion.
Owning this truth began with another post by someone else, in which the author insinuates that an incident of sexual coercion was merely an accident, a bit of miscommunication between he and his girlfriend.
Some might agree with that.
But, as I read it, all I could think was, “Just because there wasn’t an explicit no doesn’t mean it was consensual.” And then a long-buried memory hit me like a sucker-punch to the gut. Some fifteen years ago, I didn’t explicitly say no, either.
I was a sophomore in college, living in my first apartment. I had a boyfriend, slightly older than me, whom I had met in a history class. In that class, we had to do those awful, awkward introductions everyone hates – you say your name and then offer up a favorite movie or book or quotation. This guy let fly with Marx’s, “Religion is the opiate of the masses,” and my angry, punk-rock eyes lit up.
I was smitten. We started spending a lot of time together. He stayed over at my place frequently. And we drank.
A lot.
One night, after we had been drinking, he started in with a request that I’d denied on many previous occasions. See, he really, really wanted to have anal sex: “C’mon, just this once. I’ll go really slow. It won’t hurt. C’mon.”
I was beyond hesitant – I didn’t want to do it. I was scared. I was also very, very drunk and absolutely incapable of making good decisions. The pestering continued and I finally caved.
I don’t remember much except pain. And blood. And tears. And humiliation. I remember sitting on the toilet, tears falling, somewhat sobered by the pain and the reality of what I had allowed to happen. Allowed to happen. It was my fault – I didn’t said “no.” I cried but I never said “no.” I told him I didn’t want to…but I never said no.
I didn’t stop him.
I let him do it.
It was my fault.
I took that shame and I buried it nice and deep. I never examined it, never called it what it was. Rape was something different: something forceful and angry and not something that happens with your boyfriend, especially not something that happens if you don’t say no.
But that’s exactly what it was: rape. I didn’t want to do it. I was crying, for fuck’s sake. I was wasted. He did it anyway, despite my hesitance, my prior protestations, and my tears. It wasn’t an “accident” and it had nothing to do with a lack of communication.
It was non-consensual, and non-consensual sex is rape, plain and simple.
Since this memory resurfaced, I sat with it for quite some time. There’s been lots of processing, more blame, and then letting go. I’ve decided to share it now, during Sexual Assault Awareness and Prevention Month, because I’m certain that I’m not alone. Sadly, I’m sure it happens every day. A woman doesn’t want to…isn’t comfortable with it…might be drunk, might not…but doesn’t explicitly say no. Her reasons do not matter: what matters is that she didn’t want to and he continued.
Being sexually coerced isn’t equal to giving consent. It’s not your fault. And it wasn’t mine.
