Tag: trauma

It’s Over. At Least That’s What Everyone Keeps Telling Me.

by Melissa, posted in anxiety, depression, sexual assault, survivor, trauma, Uncategorized

“It’s over.”

At least that’s what everyone keeps telling me.

On April 30th, my attacker was sentenced to prison.

The legal process was over. The hearings were over. The waiting was over. After years of carrying the weight of what happened to me and navigating the legal system that followed, there was finally a guilty plea, a sentence, and what most people would call justice.

For years, I had imagined that day.

I pictured relief washing over me. I imagined finally being able to put down the weight I had been carrying. I thought maybe my body would finally understand that the danger was over.

Instead, something unexpected happened.

Everyone around me seemed relieved.

Friends congratulated me. Family members celebrated. Supporters told me they were proud of me. There was a collective exhale from the people who had walked beside me through the investigation, the court hearings, the waiting, and the uncertainty.

The case was over.

Justice had been served.

There was finally an ending.

For everyone except me.

While the world moved forward, my PTSD came roaring back.

My nervous system, which had spent years preparing for the next court date, the next hearing, the next unknown, suddenly didn’t know what to do. The fight was over, but my body hadn’t gotten the message.

For an entire month, I felt worse instead of better.

I was anxious. Hypervigilant. Exhausted. Emotional. I questioned myself. I wondered why I wasn’t feeling what everyone expected me to feel.

Wasn’t this supposed to be the part where I felt free?

As difficult as the month after was, I also want to acknowledge something important.

I know how rare my outcome is.

The reality is that most survivors never receive legal justice. Many never report. Many are not believed. Many cases never make it to an arrest, let alone a conviction. According to RAINN, for every 1,000 sexual assaults, only about 25 perpetrators are ultimately sentenced to incarceration. In other words, approximately 975 out of 1,000 perpetrators will never spend a day in prison for that assault.

I carry that knowledge with me every day.

I am grateful that my case resulted in accountability. I am grateful for the investigators, advocates, prosecutors, and supporters who helped me get here. I am proud of myself for enduring a legal process that often felt overwhelming and impossible.

Both things can be true at the same time.

I can be profoundly grateful that justice was served while also grieving the ways this experience changed me.

I can be proud of what I survived while still struggling with the aftermath.

I can celebrate the fact that at least one bad guy is off the streets while honoring the reality that my healing is happening on its own timeline.

One does not cancel out the other.

Justice gave me something many survivors never receive. For that, I will always be thankful.

But healing is a different journey altogether.

What made it even more confusing was that, throughout my life, I have always turned to writing when things felt too heavy to carry alone. Writing has been one of my most reliable forms of therapy. It has helped me process grief, heartbreak, fear, uncertainty, and some of the hardest moments of my life.

But this time, the thing that had always helped me wasn’t helping.

I couldn’t write.

I couldn’t reflect.

I couldn’t sit with it.

Instead, I did everything I could to distract myself from the magnitude of what had happened. I buried myself in work, projects, television, errands, and anything else that kept me moving. For weeks, I avoided the very thoughts I thought I would finally be ready to face.

After years of surviving, fighting, preparing, and enduring, I didn’t have the emotional capacity to process the ending.

I just shut down.

One of the strange ironies is that I am finally allowed to tell my story. Something I have been waiting for years to express.

I can write about the assault. I can write about the legal process. I can write about the investigation, the court proceedings, the years of uncertainty, and everything that came with it.

But I can’t yet.

Not because I don’t want to.

Because I’m not ready.

And that’s okay.

I think we often talk about justice and healing as if they are the same thing. As if a conviction, a sentence, or a prison term automatically creates closure.

Sometimes it doesn’t.

Sometimes justice is a legal outcome while healing remains its own separate journey.

Healing is not linear. There is no finish line waiting on the other side of a courtroom door. There is no moment when a judge speaks and suddenly every wound disappears.

Healing moves in its own time.

If there is one thing I want other survivors to hear, it is this:

It’s okay to not be okay.

It’s okay if everyone around you feels relief and you don’t.

It’s okay if what helped you before isn’t helping right now.

It’s okay if your body needs more time to catch up to what your mind already knows.

It’s okay if you’re not ready to tell your story.

Take your time.

There is no rush.

The people around you may be ready to close the book. You may still be sitting with the final chapter open in your lap. Neither experience is wrong.

Healing is not a destination. It is not a finish line. It is not something we achieve because a court case ends.

Healing is a relationship with what happened to us, who we were before it happened, and who we are becoming afterward.

And sometimes the bravest thing we can do is stop trying to be okay before we actually are.

With love and solidarity,

M

Somewhere Between Fear and Faith

by Melissa, posted in anxiety, sexual assault, survivor, trauma

I was raised Catholic.

Catholic school, Catholic rules, Catholic guilt. I even graduated from a Catholic high school. Faith wasn’t optional growing up, it was just built into my life.

But somewhere along the way, I drifted.

There wasn’t some dramatic falling out. No big moment where I rejected everything. It was quieter than that. I just moved away from it. Life got busy. I got older. And if I’m being honest, I saw a lot in organized religion that didn’t sit right with me. Judgment. Hypocrisy. People preaching one thing and living another.

So I stepped back.

At the time, it felt justified. Necessary.

Looking back, I don’t think I was rejecting God. I think I was reacting to people. And people are flawed.

I can’t even pinpoint when I started feeling pulled back toward something spiritual again.

It wasn’t overnight. It didn’t come all at once. It showed up in small, quiet moments I almost ignored. And then every once in a while, it would hit me so loudly I couldn’t brush it off.

One of those moments came before I had to testify in front of a grand jury so my assailant could be charged.

In the weeks leading up to it, I was a mess. Constant anxiety. Fear sitting in my chest like something heavy I couldn’t move. My thoughts spiraling, my body acting like I was in danger all the time.

And then the morning of, something shifted.

The fear didn’t disappear. The nerves were still there. But something else showed up too.

Peace.

Real peace. The kind that doesn’t make sense given what you’re walking into.

I felt protected.

Like there was this invisible armor around me. Like no matter what happened that day, I was going to be okay. Not untouched, not unaffected, but safe in a way I couldn’t explain.

I carried that feeling with me the entire day.

A few days later, I was telling a friend about it. Trying to explain something that didn’t really fit into words. She got quiet. Then she started to tear up.

She told me about a prayer she had said for me that morning.

A prayer asking God to cover me in His armor.

Armor is not a word I use. Not ever. And yet that’s the exact word that came to me in one of the most intense moments of my life.

You can call that coincidence if you want.

I don’t.

That moment hit me even harder than the grand jury itself. It felt like confirmation. Like something reached back.

I felt carried. Held. Protected.

It made me believe that prayer is real. That God is real. Not in the rigid, judgment-heavy way I grew up with, but in a way that shows up when you’re at your lowest and gives you just enough strength to stand.

And I’m holding onto that right now.

Because two weeks from tomorrow, I will walk into a courtroom to testify against the man who assaulted me.

And I’m not okay.

I’m scared in a way that lives in my body. I can’t eat normally. Sleep doesn’t come easy, and when it does, I wake up exhausted. My nervous system feels completely shot. I’m either on edge or completely shut down.

There are moments I feel paralyzed.

And the thought that keeps creeping in is why me.

Three years ago when I was assaulted, I was just trying to find someone to share my life with. After years of focusing on my career, I finally felt ready for something real.

Instead, I met a man on an app who assaulted me within the first five minutes of our first date.

Five minutes.

That’s all it took to change the way I move through the world. What did I do to deserve this?

I’ve been stuck in that question for a while now.

I went to church this morning and from the first song, I was already crying. It felt like everything I’ve been holding in just came out at once.

Then they brought a man on stage.

A year ago, he was diagnosed with a rare cancer. It had spread throughout his body. He was told he had less than a year to live.

Today, he has clear scans. No cancer.

And I lost it.

Not just because of him. Not just because of the miracle.

But because something in me shifted.

He didn’t ask for that. He didn’t deserve that. And still, he stood in front of a room full of people and used his story for something bigger than himself.

And for the first time, the question changed.

Why not me.

Not in a way that excuses what happened. Not in a way that makes it okay.

But in a way that lets go of the idea that I was singled out.

Bad things happen. To good people. All the time.

I don’t get to control that.

But I do get to decide what I do next.

The man who assaulted me is a predator. He has hurt other women. He has never been held accountable.

I don’t believe God wanted that to happen to me.

But I do believe this.

God can step into the aftermath.

God can take something that was meant to silence me and turn it into the reason I speak.

Maybe I’m not just the woman this happened to.

Maybe I’m the one who stops him.

I don’t feel strong. I don’t feel ready. Most days I feel like I’m barely holding it together.

But I’ve felt that armor before.

And I believe it will be there again.

He doesn’t stand a chance against what’s walking in with me.

-M

When Rage and Relief Exist at the Same Time

by Melissa, posted in anxiety, sexual assault, survivor, trauma, Uncategorized

A week ago, I was sitting in a massive conference room at a leadership retreat, surrounded by other leaders in my organization, when I received a text that stopped me in my tracks.

The man who assaulted me had been arrested in another county.

I have intentionally refrained from speaking publicly about the details of my case while it is pending trial. But this, I need to talk about.

Public records show he was arrested and charged with Assault II and Unlawful Imprisonment. Assault II indicates a deadly weapon was used or that the victim was severely beaten. Unlawful Imprisonment means he held her against her will. A situation I am unfortunately familiar with.

He posted bail there, just like he did in my case. But this time, instead of being released into the community, he was transferred to my county for violating the conditions of his release in my case.

He is now sitting in jail on a one million dollar bail. For the first time in two and a half years, I feel fully safe.

When I first read the text, I felt pure rage.

Rage that the system allowed him the opportunity to hurt another woman. Rage that I reported in part to prevent exactly this from happening, and it happened anyway.

I do not know if this was the only time since what happened to me two and a half years ago. Statistically, that seems unlikely. About one in five women experience rape or attempted rape in their lifetime, and somewhere between sixty four and eighty percent of assaults go unreported. I remember the fear that lived in me before I decided to report. The fear that he would retaliate. The fear of not being believed. The fear of what the process would cost me emotionally, professionally, and personally.

Reporting felt terrifying.

Knowing someone else endured what I endured cracks something open inside me. There is grief for her. There is grief for the version of me who once believed that speaking up would guarantee protection for others. There is anger at a system that balances rights and procedures while real women live with the consequences of those decisions.

And then there is something harder to admit.

Validation.

The quiet, uncomfortable thought of “I was right.” The confirmation that my fear was not exaggerated. That my instincts were not dramatic. That the danger was real. I do not feel proud of that validation. It is not something anyone should have to earn this way. But it is there.

I have had incredible people involved in my case. Advocates. Law enforcement. Prosecutors. His release was not the failure of one individual. Still, I am angry at a system that allowed risk to outweigh safety.

At the same time, there is immense relief. Relief that he is in jail. Relief that I do not scan every unfamiliar male face wondering if it is him. Relief that my nervous system may finally exhale after living in survival mode for two and a half years.

I will likely always be more cautious than I used to be. Trauma rewires you. It changes the way you move through the world. But for the first time in a long time, I do not feel hunted.

I think about her often.

I want to tell her she did nothing to deserve what happened. That she is not alone. That none of this is her fault. I want to tell her that the confusion, the shock, the anger, the numbness, and even the moments of doubt are all normal responses to something profoundly abnormal.

Despite all of this, I do not regret reporting.

That does not mean reporting has been easy. It has been exhausting. It has been invasive. It has required me to retell the worst night of my life to strangers in fluorescent lit rooms. It has meant waiting and uncertainty and learning how slowly the justice system moves.

There have been moments of second guessing. Moments where I wondered if staying quiet would have been simpler. Moments where I questioned whether I could handle another court date, another delay, another reminder.

But I do not regret using my voice.

I do not regret choosing to document what happened to me.

I do not regret creating a record that says, clearly and officially, this happened.

Reporting did not prevent every future harm. I wish it had. That reality is heavy. But reporting was still an act of reclaiming power. It was me refusing to carry his secrecy. It was me saying that what he did does not get to live only in my body and my memory.

For many survivors, the emotions are layered and contradictory. There can be guilt for not reporting sooner, even when sooner did not feel safe. There can be guilt for reporting at all, especially if others question the decision. There can be fear of retaliation, fear of being defined by the case, fear of not being believed. There can be exhaustion from explaining yourself. There can be anger at the system and at the person who caused this. There can be grief for the life you had before.

And sometimes, there can be strength you did not know you had.

When I go back and read my earlier blog posts, I can see it. I can see the woman who was surviving. I can see the fear, the questioning, the exhaustion. But I can also see the evolution.

This experience has changed me. There are ways it has hardened me. There are ways it has made me more cautious, more guarded, more aware of risk than I ever wanted to be. I would never choose the trauma. I would never call it a gift.

And yet, I cannot ignore the growth.

I speak up now in ways I never used to. Not just about this case, but about everything. I no longer tolerate mistreatment, dismissal, or disrespect in any area of my life. I do not shrink to make other people comfortable. I do not swallow my instincts. If something feels wrong, I say so.

There is a clarity that comes from having your safety violated. You understand, in your bones, what is not negotiable.

I advocate differently. I lead differently. I move through the world differently. I trust myself more. I know that if I can survive this, I can survive hard conversations, uncomfortable boundaries, and the risk that comes with using my voice.

That strength did not appear overnight. It was built in courtrooms and therapy sessions and sleepless nights. It was built every time I chose not to minimize what happened. It was built every time I told the truth, even when my voice shook.

Trauma changes you. That is unavoidable. Some of those changes feel unfair and heavy. But some of them are powerful.

I am not the same woman I was two and a half years ago. In some ways, I grieve her. In other ways, I am deeply proud of who I have become.

I carry rage. I carry relief. I carry grief for the woman who was hurt after me. I carry validation I never wanted to earn. I carry exhaustion from a system that moves slowly and cautiously while survivors live with urgency.

And I also carry strength.

I did not choose this path. But I have chosen how I walk it.

I chose to report. I chose to speak. I chose to refuse silence.

Not because the system is perfect. Not because reporting guarantees protection. Not because it has been easy.

But because my voice matters.

Because secrecy protects harm.

Because even when justice feels incomplete, truth still has power.

If you are a survivor reading this, whether you reported or did not, whether you are loud about it or silent, whether you are angry or numb or somewhere in between, there is no wrong way to survive.

You are allowed to be changed by what happened to you.

You are allowed to grow in ways that surprise you.

You are allowed to become stronger and softer, more cautious and more courageous, all at the same time.

I am still healing. I am still angry. I am still hopeful.

And I am not done speaking.

M

Navigating Trauma: The Journey to Justice

by Melissa, posted in sexual assault, survivor, trauma, Uncategorized

I haven’t posted in almost five months. The reason is simple: I’m still in the thick of the court system, and it’s exhausting. Over the summer, there was a significant event in the process that completely drained me. It left me feeling like I had nothing left to give—not to my writing, not to advocacy, not even to myself.

There’s a constant internal battle between pushing forward—writing, advocating, fighting for others—and recognizing when I need to step back and care for myself. For a while, the best way I knew how to cope was by pretending my sexual assault didn’t happen and focusing on living life as normally as possible. And for the most part, I’ve done that to the best of my ability.

But the thing about the court process is that it doesn’t let you ignore what happened. It forces you to confront it over and over again. And when I can’t push it aside anymore, this space—this blog—is where I turn.

This morning, walking into work on a gorgeous, crisp late-fall morning, my phone rang. The trial date is set.

My nervous system didn’t care whether the trial was tomorrow or six months from now. It reacted as though the assault had happened yesterday. The anxiety hit me like a tidal wave—tight chest, shaky hands, heart pounding, as if I were back in the moment that changed everything.

This is the reality of seeking justice. It feels like riding a rollercoaster you never asked to get on—a ride that never seems to end. You try to move forward, to heal, but every step of the legal process pulls you back into the trauma. Each milestone—court hearings, depositions, trial dates—demands that you relive an event that you’ve fought so hard to try to push out of your mind. While trying to rebuild your life, you’re forced to alternate between desperately trying to forget and painstakingly recalling every detail of the most traumatic event you’ve ever endured.

The moments in between court hearings or depositions might offer a false sense of calm. You try to focus on work, friendships, hobbies—anything that feels normal. But normalcy feels fragile and then, the milestones come. A court date. A meeting with your attorney. A deposition. Each one forces you to drag the memories back into sharp focus. Dates, times, conversations, physical sensations—it all has to be recalled and shared in sterile, public settings with people who dissect your words and scrutinize your pain. Even when you’ve tried your hardest to move forward, these moments yank you back to the day everything changed.

It’s not just the act of remembering that’s exhausting. It’s the emotional whiplash. You might feel guilt for how much you’ve forgotten or doubt over how much you remember. You might feel anger at the system for making you relive the worst day of your life, and shame for how much that anger takes out of you.

Then there’s the emotional limbo. Justice feels like it’s always just out of reach. Cases can take months or years, and each delay can chip away at the hope you’re holding onto. You might feel alone, even when surrounded by loved ones, because the process is so deeply personal—and so hard to explain to someone who hasn’t lived it.

The process is relentless. It’s exhausting. And it’s lonely in ways I struggle to put into words. You want to advocate, to fight, to make something good come from what happened to you—but you also want to protect yourself, to retreat, to rest.

If you’re in this fight, please know you’re not alone. It’s okay to feel tired, to take breaks, to focus on yourself when the weight of it all feels unbearable. The journey toward justice is brutal, but it’s also brave.

For now, I’m giving myself grace. I’m letting myself feel what I need to feel, one day at a time. Writing this post is my way of honoring where I am in this moment, messy and exhausted as it may be.

And if you’re reading this and feeling something similar, I hope you give yourself grace too. There’s no “right” way to navigate it, and there’s no shame in acknowledging how hard it is. Healing is not linear. Fighting for justice is not easy. But together, by sharing our stories and supporting one another, we can remind each other that we are so much more than what happened to us. You are stronger than you feel in these moments of doubt and exhaustion.

Take care of yourself. Seek support when you need it. And remember that pursuing justice—even when it feels like it’s breaking you—is an act of courage that matters, both for yourself and for others who might be walking this road in the future.

You are not just surviving. You are rising.

In love and solidarity,

M

Healing Out Loud: Breaking the Silence Together

by Melissa, posted in sexual assault, survivor, trauma, Uncategorized

I am really struggling right now. I’m in the middle of the legal process from my assault, and there are days I want to give up—not on life, but on my case. I so badly want my peaceful life back. Digging this all up after a year and knowing it most likely won’t be resolved in court for at least another year is beyond daunting. Every day feels like walking in quicksand, fighting to keep myself from being pulled under.

I chose early on to be open with my story with my loved ones and recently also with colleagues. I did not make that decision lightly, and I wish I could say I am always confident with it, but I am far from it. I constantly worry if people look at me differently—if they believe me, judge me, or judge my decision to share. Most days, I feel a bit like an animal in a zoo, on display for everyone to watch from afar but never get close enough to connect.

Then there are days like today that remind me why I am healing out loud. A young lady in my office reached out with her own story, seeking advice. I wish I could say this never happens, because it means another survivor, but unfortunately, it happens often.

When I first started sharing my story, it felt like stepping into an abyss. The fear, the shame, and the stigma surrounding sexual assault are powerful forces designed to keep survivors silent. But I chose to heal out loud, and here’s why.

Silence Breeds Isolation

One of the most insidious effects of sexual assault is the isolation it creates. The trauma can make you feel like you’re the only one, fostering a deep sense of loneliness. By speaking out, I aim to shatter that illusion. You’re not alone. We are many, and together, our voices form a chorus of strength and resilience.

Power in Vulnerability

Healing is a journey, not a destination. For me, part of that journey involves embracing vulnerability. Sharing my story is not just about recounting past events; it’s about reclaiming my power. It’s about standing tall and saying, “This happened to me, but it does not define me.” Every time I share, I take a step away from the shadows of my past and into the light of my future.

Creating a Safe Space

When I speak out, I hope to create a safe space for others to do the same. Society often tells us to keep quiet, to bury our pain. But when we share our stories, we challenge that narrative. We create a community where survivors can find solace, understanding, and support. We build a world where silence is no longer the norm, and healing is.

Raising Awareness

Every story shared is a beacon of awareness. It highlights the prevalence of sexual assault and the urgent need for change. By healing out loud, I hope to contribute to a culture that supports survivors, holds perpetrators accountable, and ultimately, works towards preventing sexual assault.

Empowering Others

Healing out loud is not just about my journey; it’s about empowering others to embark on their own. When survivors see someone like them speaking out, it can inspire them to find their voice. It can give them the courage to seek help, to share their story, and to start their own path to healing.

Breaking the Cycle

Silence perpetuates the cycle of abuse. By speaking out, we disrupt that cycle. We shine a light on the dark corners where abuse thrives. We educate others about the signs, the impact, and the importance of consent. Every voice raised against sexual assault is a step towards breaking the cycle and creating a safer world for future generations.

Healing out loud is not easy, but it is powerful. It is a declaration that we will not be silenced by our trauma. It is a commitment to ourselves and to others, that we will seek healing and help others do the same. Together, we can transform our pain into a powerful force for change. If my story helps just one person feel less alone, then every word has been worth it.

So, to all the survivors out there: I see you. I hear you. Your voice matters. Let’s heal together, out loud and unafraid.

In love and solidarity,

M

The Silent Struggle: Understanding Why So Few Survivors Report Sexual Assault and Domestic Violence

by Melissa, posted in sexual assault, survivor, trauma, Uncategorized

As a survivor of sexual assault and domestic violence, I know firsthand the immense courage it takes to speak out. Yet, the reality is that the vast majority of survivors remain silent. The reasons for this silence are complex and deeply rooted in societal attitudes, systemic barriers, and personal fears. In this post, we will explore why so few survivors report their abusers, backed by revealing statistics, and address the myth of false reporting.

The Stark Reality of Underreporting

Sexual Assault Reporting Statistics

  • According to the U.S. Department of Justice, only 25 out of every 1,000 rapes are reported to the police.
  • The Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network (RAINN) reports that only 33% of sexual assaults are ever reported to the authorities.

Domestic Violence Reporting Statistics

  • The National Coalition Against Domestic Violence (NCADV) states that about 34% of people who are injured by intimate partners receive medical care for their injuries, yet many do not report the abuse to authorities.
  • A Bureau of Justice Statistics report found that only about half (56%) of intimate partner violence incidents are reported to law enforcement.

Reasons for Not Reporting

  1. Fear of Retaliation Survivors often fear that their abuser will retaliate if they report the abuse. This fear is not unfounded, as many abusers threaten further harm or even death if their victim seeks help.
  2. Shame and Stigma The stigma surrounding sexual assault and domestic violence can be overwhelming. Survivors may feel ashamed or blame themselves for the abuse, making it harder to come forward.
  3. Distrust in the System Many survivors lack faith in the criminal justice system. Stories of survivors who were not believed, faced victim-blaming, or saw their abusers go unpunished contribute to this distrust.
  4. Emotional and Psychological Barriers The trauma of abuse can lead to severe emotional and psychological impacts, including depression, anxiety, and PTSD. These conditions can make it difficult for survivors to take action.
  5. Economic Dependence Many survivors, particularly those in domestic violence situations, are financially dependent on their abusers. The fear of losing financial support or facing homelessness can deter them from reporting the abuse.
  6. Concern for Children Survivors with children may fear losing custody or worry about the emotional and physical impact on their children if they report the abuse.

The Myth of False Reporting

The issue of false accusations of sexual or physical abuse is often brought up in discussions about these crimes, but it is crucial to understand the actual statistics and context.

False Reporting Rates

  • A study conducted by the National Sexual Violence Resource Center (NSVRC) found that the percentage of false reports falls within the range of 2% to 10%.
  • The FBI’s Uniform Crime Reporting (UCR) Program notes that the percentage of unfounded cases (those determined to be false or baseless) for rape is consistently around 8%. This rate is comparable to the rates of false reporting for other crimes.

Impact of False Reporting Myths

  1. Undermining Credibility The myth of high false reporting rates undermines the credibility of genuine survivors, making it harder for them to be believed and supported when they come forward.
  2. Discouraging Reporting Fear of not being believed or being accused of lying can discourage survivors from reporting their abuse. This perpetuates a cycle of silence and allows abusers to continue their behavior unchecked.
  3. Re-Traumatization Survivors who face skepticism and disbelief may experience re-traumatization, exacerbating the emotional and psychological toll of their initial trauma.

Supporting Survivors and Encouraging Reporting

  1. Creating Safe Spaces Establish and promote safe environments where survivors can share their stories without fear of judgment or retaliation. Support groups and counseling services can provide crucial support.
  2. Education and Awareness Raise awareness about the realities of sexual assault and domestic violence. Educating the public can help dismantle harmful myths and reduce stigma.
  3. Improving the Justice System Advocate for reforms in the criminal justice system to ensure that survivors are treated with respect and that their cases are taken seriously. Training for law enforcement and judicial officials on handling these cases sensitively is essential.
  4. Providing Resources Ensure that survivors have access to the resources they need, such as legal aid, shelters, and financial assistance. These resources can empower survivors to take action.
  5. Encouraging Reporting Support initiatives that encourage and facilitate reporting, such as anonymous tip lines and online reporting systems. Making the process easier and less intimidating can help more survivors come forward.

The silence surrounding sexual assault and domestic violence is a reflection of the immense barriers that survivors face. By understanding the statistics and the reasons behind this silence, we can begin to address these barriers and create a society that supports and believes survivors. Together, we can work towards a future where every survivor feels safe and empowered to speak out and seek justice.

With love and solidarity,

M

Sources:

  1. RAINN: The Criminal Justice System: Statistics
  2. NCADV: Domestic Violence National Statistics
  3. Bureau of Justice Statistics: Intimate Partner Violence
  4. NSVRC: False Reporting
  5. FBI: Uniform Crime Reporting

When the Camera Rolls: P Diddy, Survivor Stories, and the Urgency of Believing Women

by Melissa, posted in anxiety, celebrity abuse, depression, p diddy, sexual assault, survivor, trauma

In recent weeks, the entertainment world was rocked by disturbing allegations against Sean “P Diddy” Combs. A video emerged showing P Diddy allegedly abusing his ex-girlfriend, reigniting conversations about domestic violence and the treatment of survivors. This incident is not just about the actions of one man; it reflects a deeper, systemic issue in our society—the pervasive doubt cast on female survivors of abuse.

The video below may be hard for some to watch.

The P Diddy Incident: A Wake-Up Call

When the video surfaced, the initial reactions were varied. Some expressed shock and dismay, while others were quick to defend P Diddy, questioning the validity of the footage and the motivations behind its release. This pattern of skepticism is all too familiar to survivors of domestic violence and sexual assault. For many, the gut-wrenching experience of sharing the truth is met with disbelief, scrutiny, and victim-blaming. A study conducted by the National Sexual Violence Resource Center (NSVRC) found that the percentage of false reports falls within the range of 2% to 10% . The FBI’s Uniform Crime Reporting (UCR) Program notes that the percentage of unfounded cases (those determined to be false or baseless) for rape is consistently around 8% . This is comparable to the rates of false reporting for other crimes. Yet, survivors continue to be doubted.

Why Society Doubts Female Survivors

  1. Cultural Conditioning: From a young age, society conditions us to view men as strong and women as emotional or unstable. This stereotype leads to an inherent bias where men’s actions are often excused or rationalized, while women’s experiences are questioned.
  2. Victim-Blaming: There is a pervasive tendency to blame victims for their abuse. Questions like “Why didn’t she leave?” or “What was she wearing?” place undue burden on survivors to justify their actions instead of holding abusers accountable.
  3. Celebrity Worship: The idolization of celebrities compounds this issue. When a beloved public figure is accused, fans and the media can be reluctant to accept the accusations, fearing the fall of their idols more than the impact on the victims.
  4. Misogyny and Patriarchy: Deep-rooted misogyny and patriarchal values play a significant role. Women who speak out are often seen as troublemakers or liars, especially when their stories threaten the power and reputation of influential men.

The Importance of Believing Survivors

Believing survivors is crucial for several reasons:

  • Validation and Healing: When survivors are believed, it validates their experiences and is a significant step towards healing. It acknowledges their pain and starts to dismantle the isolation and shame they often feel.
  • Encouraging Reporting: When society believes survivors, it encourages others to come forward. Knowing they will be heard and supported can make a profound difference in a survivor’s willingness to report abuse.
  • Accountability: Believing survivors is essential for holding abusers accountable. Without belief, justice systems and support structures fail to act, allowing abusers to continue their behavior unchecked.

Moving Forward: A Call to Action

The P Diddy incident should serve as a catalyst for change. Here are some steps we can take to support survivors and create a more just society:

  1. Educate and Raise Awareness: Promote education on the dynamics of abuse and the importance of supporting survivors. Awareness campaigns can help dismantle harmful stereotypes and biases.
  2. Support Survivor Networks: Strengthen support networks and resources for survivors, ensuring they have access to the help they need without fear of judgment or disbelief.
  3. Challenge Misogyny and Patriarchy: Actively challenge and speak out against misogynistic attitudes and patriarchal structures that perpetuate the disbelief of women (future blog post coming on this topic).
  4. Hold Abusers Accountable: Advocate for robust legal and social frameworks that hold abusers accountable, regardless of their status or power.

The video of P Diddy allegedly abusing his ex-girlfriend is more than a scandal; it is a stark reminder of the ongoing struggle survivors face to be heard and believed. As a society, we must do better. We must listen to survivors, believe them, and take action to ensure justice and healing. Only then can we hope to build a world where survivors are supported and abusers are held accountable. Let this incident be a turning point—a moment when we choose to stand with survivors and demand a better, more compassionate future.

With love and solidarity,

M

Sources:

  1. NSVRC: False Reporting
  2. FBI: Uniform Crime Reporting

Healing Trauma with EMDR Therapy

by Melissa, posted in anxiety, depression, sexual assault, survivor, trauma

As survivors of sexual assault, we understand all too well the complex and often overwhelming emotions that accompany our experiences. The journey toward healing can feel like an uphill battle, fraught with triggers, flashbacks, and moments of profound despair. However, amidst the darkness, there is hope. In recent years, a therapeutic approach known as Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing (EMDR) has emerged as a powerful tool for trauma recovery. In this blog post, we’ll explore what EMDR therapy entails, how it works, and the potential benefits it offers to survivors.

What is EMDR Therapy?

EMDR therapy is a structured psychotherapy approach designed to help individuals process traumatic memories and alleviate associated symptoms. Developed by Francine Shapiro in the late 1980s, EMDR has since gained widespread recognition as an effective treatment for trauma-related conditions, including post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).

How Does EMDR Work?

Central to EMDR therapy is the concept of bilateral stimulation, which involves engaging both hemispheres of the brain through rhythmic sensory input. This can be achieved through a variety of techniques, including horizontal eye movements, hand taps, or auditory tones. During an EMDR session, the therapist guides the client in recalling distressing memories while simultaneously engaging in bilateral stimulation. This process facilitates the reprocessing of traumatic memories, allowing the individual to integrate them more effectively into their overall memory network.

The Eight Phases of EMDR Therapy:

EMDR therapy typically consists of eight distinct phases:

  1. History-taking and treatment planning
  2. Preparation
  3. Assessment
  4. Desensitization
  5. Installation
  6. Body Scan
  7. Closure
  8. Reevaluation

Throughout these phases, the therapist works collaboratively with the client to identify target memories, develop coping skills, and process traumatic experiences in a safe and supportive environment.

Benefits of EMDR Therapy for Survivors:

  • Rapid symptom reduction: EMDR therapy has been shown to produce significant and often rapid improvements in symptoms associated with trauma, including intrusive memories, nightmares, and hypervigilance.
  • Targeted treatment: EMDR allows survivors to address specific traumatic memories or triggers, rather than focusing on generalized symptoms.
  • Empowerment: By facilitating the reprocessing of traumatic memories, EMDR therapy empowers survivors to regain a sense of control over their lives and move forward with greater resilience and self-confidence.
  • Lasting results: Research has demonstrated the long-term efficacy of EMDR therapy in reducing symptoms of PTSD and related conditions.

As survivors of sexual assault, we are no strangers to the profound impact of trauma on our lives. However, we are also resilient, resourceful, and deserving of healing. EMDR therapy offers us a path forward—a chance to reclaim our lives, process our experiences, and move forward with renewed hope and strength. If you’re considering EMDR therapy as part of your healing journey, I encourage you to explore this option further and reach out to a qualified therapist who can provide the support and guidance you need. Remember, healing is possible, and you are not alone.

With love and solidarity,
M

Understanding PTSD: The Impact on Sexual Assault Survivors

by Melissa, posted in anxiety, depression, sexual assault, survivor, trauma, Uncategorized

Today, I want to delve into a topic that is often misunderstood but profoundly affects many survivors of sexual assault: Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). PTSD is a complex condition that can have lasting effects on a survivor’s mental, emotional, and physical well-being. Prior to my assault I thought I had an understanding of what PTSD was. I was severely misinformed. To shed light on this important topic, I’ll draw insights from the book “The Body Keeps the Score” by Dr. Bessel van der Kolk, a renowned expert in trauma research.

For me, the nightmares began night one and lasted at least 6 months. The flashbacks, intrusive memories, and intense emotional reactions began immediately and lasted all day for months. I couldn’t do anything for more than a few minutes without an intrusive thought punching me in the gut and causing me to lose my breath for a moment. The smell of cigarettes anywhere near me sent me right back to that night and his smoky breath on me. Even if I was safe with friends or family, my body felt imminent danger as if I really was fighting for my life. The hypervigilence was also immediate. In case anyone isn’t familiar, hypervigilence is a state of heightened alertness, sensitivity and awareness to potential threats or dangers in the environment. It was as if my head was constantly on a swivel out in public. I couldn’t be in a restaurant because the constant scanning for danger, sudden movements of others, and the potential for the unknown was too overstimulating. If I did go out in public it exhausted me for days. None of this was a surprise to me. These were all PTSD symptoms I expected from watching war movies.

What caught me completely by surprise was the anger. I am not an angry person. In fact, I tend to be more of a pushover than a pushback type of person. Months into my healing journey I found myself without an ounce of patience for anyone or anything. I felt constantly on edge, annoyed, and ready to fight anyone that even looked in my direction. I found it nearly impossible to manage humans when part of my job is to listen to the needs of others. Their complaints and gripes felt minimal compared to the hurricane going on inside my body. The angrier I became the more I beat myself up for being angry. I became a life coach to help other people with their problems. What is wrong with me!? The anger I felt towards myself and others was eating me alive. I picked up the book, The Body Keeps the Score and it was one of the most validating feelings I had. And one of the first times I envisioned channeling that anger towards advocacy.

The Body Keeps the Score is a dense book full of medical jargon that doesn’t make for an easy read if you aren’t into that sort of thing. I have highlighted some of the most meaningful takeaways for me personally:

  1. The Nature of PTSD: Dr. van der Kolk describes PTSD as a response to overwhelming traumatic events, where the brain and body struggle to process and integrate the experience. For survivors of sexual assault, the trauma can manifest in intrusive memories, flashbacks, nightmares, and intense emotional reactions.
  2. Dysregulation of the Nervous System: One key concept highlighted in the book is the dysregulation of the nervous system in trauma survivors. Sexual assault can trigger a heightened state of arousal, known as hypervigilance, where survivors remain on high alert for potential threats. Conversely, some survivors may experience dissociation, a state of emotional detachment or numbness, as a coping mechanism to distance themselves from the trauma.
  3. Impact on Brain Structures: Dr. van der Kolk explores how trauma alters brain structures, particularly the amygdala, hippocampus, and prefrontal cortex. The amygdala, responsible for processing emotions, becomes hyperactive in response to perceived threats, leading to exaggerated fear responses. Meanwhile, the hippocampus, crucial for memory consolidation, may struggle to differentiate between past trauma and present safety, contributing to intrusive memories and flashbacks. The prefrontal cortex, involved in decision-making and impulse control, may also be impaired, affecting survivors’ ability to regulate emotions and engage in effective coping strategies.
  4. Somatic Symptoms: “The Body Keeps the Score” emphasizes the somatic manifestations of trauma, where survivors may experience physical symptoms such as chronic pain, gastrointestinal issues, and autoimmune disorders. These somatic complaints are often linked to the dysregulation of the autonomic nervous system, which governs involuntary bodily functions, including heart rate, digestion, and immune response. For survivors, these physical symptoms can further exacerbate their distress and impact their quality of life.
  5. The Role of Trauma Therapy: Despite the challenges posed by PTSD, Dr. van der Kolk offers hope through trauma-focused therapies such as Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing (EMDR), cognitive-behavioral therapy (CBT), and somatic experiencing. These approaches aim to help survivors process and integrate their traumatic experiences, regulate their nervous system responses, and develop coping skills to manage distressing symptoms.

Anger specific takeaways:

  1. Anger as a Response to Trauma: Dr. van der Kolk emphasizes that trauma, particularly experiences of sexual assault, can evoke intense feelings of anger in survivors. This anger may stem from a sense of powerlessness, betrayal, or violation of boundaries during the traumatic event. Survivors may also harbor anger toward perpetrators, society’s failure to protect them, or even themselves for what happened.
  2. The Physiology of Anger: Understanding the physiological underpinnings of anger is crucial. Trauma triggers the body’s fight-or-flight response, flooding the system with stress hormones like adrenaline and cortisol. For survivors, this heightened state of arousal can lead to a persistent sense of irritability, agitation, and rage. Additionally, trauma may dysregulate the amygdala, the brain’s emotional center, amplifying emotional responses and making it difficult to modulate anger.
  3. Anger Turned Inward: Dr. van der Kolk highlights that many survivors internalize their anger, directing it inward toward themselves. This self-directed anger may manifest as self-blame, self-destructive behaviors, or feelings of worthlessness and shame. Survivors may struggle with accepting themselves or forgiving perceived mistakes, leading to profound emotional turmoil and self-sabotage.
  4. Healing Through Anger: While anger can be overwhelming and disruptive, it also serves as a potent catalyst for healing. Dr. van der Kolk advocates for the acknowledgment and expression of anger as a vital step in the trauma recovery process. Through therapy and support groups, survivors can safely explore and process their anger, reclaiming a sense of agency and empowerment in the aftermath of trauma.
  5. Transforming Anger into Advocacy: Beyond individual healing, survivors’ anger can fuel collective action and social change. Many survivors channel their anger into advocacy efforts, speaking out against sexual violence, advocating for policy reforms, and supporting fellow survivors. By transforming their anger into a force for justice and empowerment, survivors reclaim their voices and contribute to a culture of resilience and accountability.

Reading this book didn’t magically heal any of my PTSD symptoms but it did give me a sense of control back knowing that everything I was feeling was normal and as the different stages of healing came, I was prepared with what was to come.

Understanding the impact of PTSD on sexual assault survivors is crucial for providing effective support and interventions. By recognizing the interconnectedness of trauma, the brain, and the body, we can empower survivors on their journey toward healing and recovery.

If you or someone you know is struggling with PTSD or the aftermath of sexual assault, I encourage reaching out to qualified mental health professionals for support and guidance.

With love and solidarity,

M

How to Support a Survivor: A Guide for Loved Ones

Featured by Melissa, posted in anxiety, depression, sexual assault, survivor, trauma, Uncategorized

Dear friends, family, and partners of survivors,

I want to start by thanking you for clicking on this post and expressing a willingness to support someone you care about who has experienced trauma. Your love and support can make an incredible difference in their healing journey. As a survivor myself, I know firsthand how vital the support of loved ones can be during such challenging times.

When I reported my assault, the officer I first talked to told me, “this is going to be an extremely isolating process, lean on your people.” I shrugged this off immediately. I have a large tribe and am no stranger to trauma and my people always come through. I figured that was just a warning the officer gave everyone that didn’t apply to me. At the hospital I heard this warning of isolation twice more. Still, I thought, not me.

The day I reported was the longest of my life. My best friend was with me the entire time and took me home with her to stay with her and her family. That night when things finally settled down and I went to bed alone I experienced my first feelings of isolation. Not just because I was physically alone. It’s impossible to explain the violating feeling of someone forcing themselves not only on you but into you. I can tell my story 100 times and it still doesn’t register to an outsider the way it felt to be me. The only time the feeling of isolation went away was sharing with another survivor. Unfortunately, I had more of these shared experiences than I wish but survivors share something we can’t explain, and we don’t have to. We know.

I started this blog hoping to connect more of us to diminish as much of the pain of isolation as possible. Not everyone wants to discuss their experience with their loved ones. It’s an incredibly vulnerable thing to share with anyone. But, I have found incredible strength and power through the conversations and connections I have built with other survivors.

While the below is just a guide, and everyone is different, I encourage you to ASK your loved one what they need. They might not know, show up anyway. You will not say the right thing, because there is no right thing to say to make this go away for them. Just show up and tell them you are there for them. A huge part of my isolation came in the weeks and months after I had told most of the people closest to me. No one knows what to say or do so they say nothing. The fear of bringing it up at a bad time, saying the wrong thing, or having an uncomfortable conversation stopped a lot of people from reaching out at all. Most went back to their lives seemingly unchanged while I struggled daily, forever changed.

My mom came from out of town and cleaned my house, one friend showed up at the place I was staying, another girlfriend texted me consistently just telling me she loved me, others offered a shoulder and helped with my dog. I am really lucky for the support that I had and that I never had the feeling of not being believed. I did, however, have several people tell me what they would have done if they had been me. That they would have “fought for their lives.” I know I don’t need to explain how unnecessary, unhelpful, and insensitive comments like this are. But, they happen. I am able to find a lot of grace for these comments now, knowing it comes from a place of misunderstanding. So, I hope this post helps someone better navigate supporting a loved one through this.

Here are a few tips to support your loved one:

  1. Believe Them: One of the most important things you can do is to believe the survivor. It takes immense courage to speak up about experiences of sexual violence, and your belief in them can validate their feelings and experiences.
  2. Listen, Don’t Judge: Create a safe space for the survivor to share their feelings and experiences without fear of judgment. Sometimes, survivors just need someone to listen without offering advice or trying to “fix” the situation.
  3. Respect Boundaries: Every survivor copes with trauma differently, and it’s essential to respect their boundaries. Allow them to set the pace for discussing their experience and participating in activities.
  4. Offer Practical Support: Survivors may struggle with everyday tasks while coping with trauma. Offer practical support such as cooking meals, running errands, or assisting with childcare if needed.
  5. Educate Yourself: Take the time to educate yourself about the effects of trauma and how it impacts survivors. This will help you better understand their experiences and provide more effective support.
  6. Encourage Professional Help: Encourage the survivor to seek professional help if they’re open to it. Therapy can be incredibly beneficial in processing trauma and developing coping strategies.
  7. Be Patient: Healing from trauma takes time, and there may be setbacks along the way. Be patient and understanding, and let the survivor know that you’re there for them no matter what.
  8. Self-Care: Supporting a survivor can be emotionally challenging, so remember to take care of yourself as well. Seek support from friends, family, or a therapist if needed.
  9. Validate Their Feelings: Let the survivor know that their feelings are valid and normal. Avoid minimizing or dismissing their emotions, even if you don’t fully understand them.
  10. Be Their Ally: Stand up for the survivor and advocate for their needs, whether it’s in personal relationships, at work, or within the community. Your support can empower them to reclaim their voice and agency.

Remember, your support as a loved one is invaluable to the survivor’s healing process. Your presence, compassion, and understanding can make a world of difference. Thank you for being a source of strength and support during this challenging time.

Other survivors, please share anything your loved ones did that helped you!

With love and solidarity,
M