It’s hard to go forward without really knowing what happened.
Last year I was sexually assaulted.
What has been worse for me than the physical trauma of the act has been the deep psychological damage. The best way I have been able to describe it to anyone is that an electric mixer was put to my brain and instead of a smooth, solid brain with wiggles and curves I have what resembles a pile of burnt scrambled eggs.
I didn’t tell Cody about what happened until a few months ago. Together we began telling those closest to us and responses ranged from “You need to go back to church and pray harder” to complete apathy, like I should be over it already. For anyone who has ever been through rape or sexual assault, you’ll know victim shaming and blaming is a very real thing and the reason so many people stay quiet.
So now those of you who have been around for awhile know why I broke, and why I didn’t talk about it.
I don’t want to be an uplifting voice for violence against women. I don’t want to be some hero survivor inspiration story.
I just want my fucking life back.