DISCLAIMER:
This blog contains some sensitive and intimate information. The part about my past reveals a lot. The part of the story about my friend is not detailed and is being written with her permission. If you are in my circle of friends and know her, do not publicly name her. If you don't know who it is, don't ask. I'm not telling.
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Almost daily, stories are coming out about sexual assault. Assaults on babies, young children, teens, adults and seniors. Some with a single victim, some with hundreds. We can share the horror, the disgust. We can feel frustration, rage and sadness. We can comment with "why didn't s/he tell," "why didn't they report sooner," "how did no one know." We can wonder how a predator can prey on so many before anyone finds out. I say the same things. I ask the same questions. I share the same feelings. It's sick. It's sad. It needs to end.
Pointing a finger at one person and and making them responsible for the act itself is easy to do. In a movie, the main character gets the awards, the spotlight, and the publicity. But there are a lot of people behind the scenes who've contributed to the film's success. And in cases of sexual assault, especially where the number of victims bleeds into the hundreds, the behind the scenes crew holds a small percentage of responsibility.
In the highly-publicized Larry Nassar case, allegations first surfaced in the 1990s. No one investigated. No one believed. No one listened. And by the time someone finally did listen, 20+ years later, the number of victims was well over 100. But even with the publicity, and the documentaries and the countless Google search results about this case, if you are someone who has never been affected, either as a victim or as the friend or family member of a victim, it is easy to dismiss the amount of trauma that can be experienced from an assault. It's difficult to understand how anything at any time, even years later, can be a trigger. There is no way for someone who is not a victim to completely understand but when we take time to listen, we can get a little bit closer.
My knowledge of the amount of damage that can come from a traumatic experience is limited. While I know people who have been sexually assaulted, I never have been. But I have been shoved off of a bed for refusing sex. I have been sexually harassed. And while neither of these experiences caused me any real trauma, they have taught me to be empathetic and have shaped my attitude about sex and relationships. I believed after the first incident if I refused sex, I'd lose a friend. I thought if I refused sex, people would walk away from me. I believed if I refused sex, I would be in danger. And after the harassment, which was not a one time incident, but one that continued for two years, I believed no matter how kind or persistent I was, it didn't matter. I believed I was doing something wrong by telling someone I didn't want to be with them intimately. I believed at some point I would have to submit. No one should feel like this. No one deserves to feel like this.
Up to the point of entering college, almost having sex was as far as I'd gone with anyone. My quest continued to find where I fit in the world and college only made it more complicated. All of those thoughts about sex circulated through my brain day after day. It was then that I decided, at age 20, to have sex for the first time. My partner was gentle, patient and put no pressure on me. But it hurt. Badly. It wasn't what I'd imagined sex to be at all. After the first time, it became less painful and I almost started to enjoy it. I say almost because at the forefront of my mind was the thought that if I stopped having sex with him, the relationship would be over. I believed this was the only reason he cared about me and paid any attention to me. I believed this to be the only reason anyone would pay attention to me, and that was all that I wanted. Attention. Because sex wasn't something I really enjoyed, I'd drink myself into a complete haze beforehand. I started down a lengthy path of drunken one night stands. I am not proud of this. But I am also not ashamed of it. I got lucky that all of my partners were clean. I got lucky that no one ever assaulted me. I got lucky that it taught me something.
But I have a friend who is not as lucky. She was in an abusive marriage once. Physical abuse. Sexual abuse. Emotional abuse. Financial abuse. And while she's able now to tell her story without shame, her pain is not gone and she is not done healing.
We were out with a group of friends last month. After dinner, shooting pool and a few drinks, we all went back to one couple's house to play games. Everyone was up for just about anything and a few of us suggested Poker. My friend halted the idea almost immediately. It wasn't because we weren't playing for real money. It wasn't because she didn't know how. It was because it was a trigger.
She explained that in her previous marriage, her then in-laws played Poker frequently. And while those nights may have been filled with laughter and good times, that game makes her mind travel back to a place in her life when she was taken advantage of. A time when she was hurt intentionally. A time when she was controlled and scared. A time when she was a victim.
A friend of ours responded by saying we could start playing and if she felt triggered, we could just stop. That seems like a reasonable thing to do, and there is nothing wrong with this suggestion. But it's not that simple. She and I tried together to explain that sometimes when someone gets to the point of being triggered, it's already too late. In this situation, a potential trigger was something she could avoid. Admittedly, the conversation was much too short, and while neither of us are sure he still completely understands where she was coming from, the few minutes we spent discussing it opened the door for future dialogue.
Fixing this epidemic is going to take a lot of time, a lot of open and difficult discussion and a lot of listening. Everyone needs to be willing to participate in the conversation. People who
don't understand cannot be afraid to ask questions. Those who do
understand need to be willing to answer the questions. No one can force
anyone to share their story before they're ready. No simple, quick
conversation will give anyone a complete picture of what the post-trauma
from these experiences looks like. But if all of us can start
listening, be patient and be willing, then we're moving in the right
direction.
