Finding My Voice

I’ve been thinking a lot lately.  Thinking about a part of my life that I’ve never talked about publicly.  It’s part of my story that I didn’t realize for years was even mine.  It wasn’t until I started therapy that I recognized it.  When I started dating Donovan, my husband, I was surprised when these things from my past surfaced.  Small triggers.  Sometimes, not so small triggers.  The realization of what took place hit me like a ton of bricks.  I am not even sure how to process it sometimes.  But, lately, part of processing through it feels like I want to talk about it.  Talking about it is a sign of freedom.  Freedom from the secrets and trauma that want to silence my voice.  

I want to talk about it publicly in the hopes that it might help someone else.  But I waver back and forth.  I waver, not because I want to keep silent, but because I am afraid I will be silenced.  Losing your voice, or having your experience questioned or downplayed... or even worse, dismissed, is an indescribably maddening feeling.  The tug of war is real.  

But, I have decided to give voice to the part of my story I have hidden for years.  

When the #metoo movement began, I didn’t pay close attention to it.  I knew the gist of it and I was saddened at all the sexual abuse, assault, and harassment that has silently taken place over decades.  But I didn’t relate to it.  Maybe because, deep down, I didn’t want to.  Maybe I didn’t want to be one of those statistics.  I have always had a way of remembering the good times more than the bad times.  I think it’s how my subconscious deals with bad experiences.  I spent years minimizing my own experience.  After coming to the realization through therapy, I say it.  No more downplaying it.  No more hiding it.  I was sexually assaulted… by my former boyfriend/fiancé. 

Seeing the words I just typed is still jarring.  Saying it out loud was just as jarring.  It brings it into the light.  It’s painfully honest.  And honesty can sometimes be just plain painful.  But as I have learned over the last couple of years, brutal honesty is freeing.  Being honest with myself, being honest with God in my prayers, and being honest with those in my life whom I trust, has been liberating in a way I couldn’t imagine.  

Unfortunately, until I met my husband, I NEVER had a good experience with men within the context of a relationship.  I have walked away from more than one experience feeling like nothing more than a piece of discarded trash.  I felt used and my heart drug through the mud.  

You must understand that I am the type of person that gives themself to a relationship with my whole heart.  I don’t know how NOT to invest in that relationship.  That’s any type of relationship, be it romantic or not.  I am fiercely loyal and love deeply.  I’m told this is a wonderful trait to have… except when it isn’t.

I was 17 when I had my first boyfriend.  I was never the popular girl in school… or the pretty girl.  I seemed to attract the guys that were… not exactly my type.  So, when a handsome man gave me some attention in a chat room one day, my heart just went for it.  I did my best to pray about it.  But I was young.  I wanted to know what it was like to be loved.  I didn’t feel that from my dad at home, so this no doubt played a huge part of why I ran so fast towards this attention.  

He was 3 years older than me and lived in another state, so we spent a lot of time talking online and over the phone.  He mailed me pictures of himself and said all the right things.  He said he always wanted to be with an American with blue eyes (he was from another country).  He pursued me.  I am rarely one to initiate anything in the context of a relationship because I’m shy.  I don’t want to be rejected.  But this would be a pattern over the years, even after this relationship.  Someone would initiate.  I would hesitate, but eventually decide to allow my heart to open, only to be treated with various kinds of disrespect.    

When I finally decided that I would give this long distance relationship a chance, it went from casual to serious, immediately.  “I love yous” were exchanged as soon as we officially became boyfriend and girlfriend.  We talked all the time and he said all the romantic things.  It was all so new and thrilling!  I couldn’t believe that someone as handsome and romantic as him would be interested in someone like me.  I saw myself as just sort of average.  Nothing special.  I wasn’t a supermodel.  I had never been desirable before.  This low view of myself set the groundwork for what was to come.  

After a few months, he moved to my city so that we could be together.  We had had conversations about physical boundaries before he moved.  I made it clear that I wanted to wait until I was married to have sex.  This was very important to me.  When we went on our first date together in person, I experienced my first kiss.  He was very experienced so it was as if he wanted to “teach” me all things romance (read physical).  I thought I was in love.  I thought I was experiencing love.

But it wasn’t long before he started to push those boundaries.  I was surprised at first.  I remember one time thinking to myself, “Did he just…. Touch me there….”  I was so young.  I didn’t know how to respond.  He said he loved me and maybe he was just caught up in a moment.  

I realize now that every time I allowed him to cross a line, no matter how slight, he kept pushing that line even further.  Until things started to get more physical.  When I tell you I was naive, I was NAIVE.  I didn’t understand anything about my own body, much less what he was doing to it.  

One particular night, he started to push the physical boundaries in a new way.  I didn’t verbally tell him no, but my physical response was a definite no.  I was obviously resisting.  He continued to push.  What would transpire that night would become a pattern.  He would push the boundary, I would resist, he would continue to push, and I would eventually give up and give in.  When this first incident was over, I was mortified.  I think I cried.  He could see I was clearly upset and made the statement, “You are acting like I raped you or something.”  He said it with a tone indicating that he was sad, maybe apologetic, but I’m not sure.  I was confused.  He said he loved me.  I loved him.  His response made me feel as if I were simply over-reacting.  This was love after all.  Wasn’t it?

Time went on.  The boundaries kept getting pushed further and further until there just weren’t any.  He wanted to try and do all the things.  One of those things occurred for the first time, in the woods at a local park.  I hated the experience.  I don’t recall resisting that particular incident, but I knew I never wanted it to happen again.  Only, he liked it.  So several times when we were physical with each other, he would try to handle me into a position indicating he wanted to do this particular act.  I always resisted.  He would get frustrated with me because I wasn’t allowing him to do what felt good to him.  I expressed how it was painful for me and I didn’t enjoy it at all.  That didn’t seem to quench his frustration.  But this was love, right?  By this time we were engaged. He wanted to marry me so surely this was love. 

Now, I will say that not every time we were physical it was forced.  What I do know is that we wouldn’t have been sexually active had he not pushed those boundaries in the beginning.  His constant pushing of the boundaries wore me out.  I was tired of resisting.  Better to just give in because we loved each other right?  This was love, right?

The relationship was toxic overall.  I was full of shame about all the lines I swore to myself I would never cross.  I blamed myself.  I never saw that what really took place on a few occasions was sexual assault.  Even though I felt, several times during the course of this nearly four year relationship, like a piece of meat.  I constantly told myself that he loved me and I loved him.  I was surely just overreacting.

It wasn’t until I started dating my husband, that I realized just how bad I’ve been treated.  I had given up that I would ever find a man that would treat me the way I deserved.  When he came into my life and treated me with respect, kindness, care, and love, it opened my eyes.  He also experienced the triggers when I was coming to the realization of what happened to me in the past.  And he wasn’t scared of it.  He was just there for me.  Thankfully, I was already in therapy so I was able to quickly start dealing with it emotionally.  

I’m so thankful that God provided me with such an attentive, kind, caring, and loving husband!  He shows me everyday what it is like to be respected, cherished, and loved the way God intended.  He shows me what it means to be safe within our relationship. I’ve never once felt afraid he would cross any boundary. That includes our marriage. He has always taken great care to respect me and protect my heart. 

Because sexual assault can happen within a marriage. My husband told me once that he knew early in our relationship that I had placed my heart in his hands. He wanted me to know that he took that very seriously. This was a game changer for me. God used my husband to bring healing into my heart and life. I am just so thankful that He brought us together!

I wanted to share my story because the sexual assault I experienced was in the context of a relationship. At the time I didn’t even know that was a thing.  Sexual assault only happened with a stranger, or outsider.  It didn’t happen within a relationship where someone “loved” you.  It doesn’t happen with someone who wants to marry you. Except, it does.  It happened to me.  I want any woman, young or old, to know that sexual assault can happen in this context.  And if a man is crossing your boundaries, it’s not love.  You deserve respect.  You don’t have to give in.  You aren’t over-reacting.  Use your voice.  And leave.  

You deserve to be loved.  You deserved to be treated with kindness.  You deserve to be respected.  You deserve to be heard.  You have a voice.  You don’t have to be ashamed.  

Me too.