(ATTENTION: pertinent links and resources are located in bold at the end of this post. If you or someone you know is struggling, please see those)
Once upon a time, there was a little girl. She was born with dark brown hair, but over time, it lightened to the color of corn silk. She had chubby little cheeks, green eyes, and a pure little heart full of love and joy.
As she continued to grow, and her hair turned dark, what no one knew about her little heart was that it had been silently broken by someone who loved her.
A simple afternoon, sitting on a dining room chair, against the wall, just right of the doorway, facing a television, watching a game show, next to a man she trusted. After that she didn’t want be around him. She didn’t want to sit in that chair. She didn’t want to watch that TV. She avoided it as best she could because sometimes when she didn’t avoid it, it happened again.
They were confusing moments and she didn’t know how to react, so… she didn’t react at all.
Then, for many more years, she told herself it wasn’t “that bad” because so many people had been through worse.
Sure, his hands had explored places she didn’t want them to be. But he didn’t hurt her. He didn’t kiss her. He didn’t take her clothes off…. He didn’t do… worse.
The little girl tucked the memory away and didn’t revisit it until much, much later. She was utterly relived when she no longer had to see that man, and somehow even more relieved when he died years later.
However, that same little girl grew into a young woman. She developed a chest, and because was self-conscious and certain she was “fat,” she made sure to be covered up in public. Plus, she didn’t want creepy guys looking at her… ever. She was a nerdy dork of sorts, so she wasn’t popular, but that was okay.
When she was in high school though, she met a boy from another town, online, since the internet was just growing and changing the way you could interact with people. He was from a few towns over, but eventually, they decided to meet up, with friends, of course. This nervous teen with her glasses and some acne put on a pair of jeans and her Winnie-the-Pooh “baby doll” fitted t-shirt, and met the boy. It was a blast, hanging out in his living room, listening to music, and joking around.
The lights got dimmer, and things calmed, and she sat next to the boy on the couch. Without permission, he slid hid hands in between her thighs. She pushed him away, and he stared at her confused. He kissed her on the cheek, and his hands wandered back to where they had been. He tried to unbutton them, and she slapped him. He thought it was funny. He tried one more time, and she got up and left.
She didn’t tell anyone about it, because “nothing really happened” and she solved the problem on her own.
A few months later, she met a different boy, from a different town, who came to her house to hang out. They decided to go for a drive, and look at the stars in the country, having conversation in his vehicle. He snuggled up next to her and she relaxed into his arms. His arm was placed securely around her shoulder, and they kissed briefly. Then, his hands went to her chest. She told him no. He stopped. They continued talking. She never saw him again. Soon enough, the girl graduated from high school, made new friends, and was enjoying making memories with her friends.
The girl went to college a few hours away from home. She was startled to see the first boy in her college dormitory building. She avoided looking at him and tried to avoid him at all costs. She wasn’t afraid of him, but she felt so gross when she was in his presence. In the second semester, she was in one of the same classes as him. She dropped out. She didn’t need that class, anyway.
She grew up, got married, graduated, and started a life, got divorced, and continued shaping a life.
That girl is me.
My story is, I presume, to be “not that bad” compared to countless other stories that are much more grotesque, detailed, violating, violent, devastating, and many other adjectives I cannot think of. What I have grappled with in my adult years, is admitting it’s still not okay, and each unwanted situation was a form of sexual assault. I am good now. I am healed emotionally and spiritually. It wasn’t always the case, especially during the years I told no one and had to figure out how to be a girlfriend, fiancé, and wife, while carrying around the invisible baggage.
Years ago, I volunteered on a “Crisis Hotline” where I took calls from people in serious situations, sometimes suicidal, sometimes victims of assault. There was one night, when I received my first 1am phone-call from a quiet voice on the other end, hesitatingly answering ‘yes’ when asked if there was anyone on the other end of the line. She admitted she was raped. She was terrified. She didn't know what to do. I asked her if she wanted to go to the hospital and talk to someone there- together. I would meet her.
She said yes.
I drove miles away to the hospital, and I met this young woman, about my age, in the emergency room waiting area. We sat in silence, and I explained I would stay with her as long as she would like, but that I wouldn’t pressure her to do or say anything, I would just support her.
I had been through unwanted contacts in my own body.
Being inside that sterile room, with the door shut, a female nurse, and a victim undergoing a rape kit collection… broke me. It didn’t break me for me. It broke me for her. It broke me for women and children everywhere. It broke me for humanity.
Many years later, someone I hold exceptionally dear asked me to come along with her as she confronted her abuser, after years of undergoing therapy to help heal her heart and mind from years of sexual assault/abuse. I was so proud of her, so broken with her, and so relieved for her when we drove away that afternoon.
I took a job, over a decade ago, working with children who were dealing with intense trauma and lasting effects of it. I was able to see how trauma affected their every day lives in ways that I hadn’t been privy to before. I walked alongside them for almost a year before my life changed, and my marriage ended.
Now, I’m a CASA volunteer, and it’s often possible that the children I walk alongside have traumas related to these areas. I’ve also taken many trainings on these subjects. I did not realize until recently how immersed into the subject I have been throughout my life.
Somewhere along the line, I also learned that it was okay to tell your partner or spouse “no” and that just because you were committed to them, didn’t mean you “had to” let them do things, or “give in” to doing things with them, if you didn’t want to do it. The concept seemed somehow foreign to me, quite frankly, because I just assumed it was the right way to approach intimacy. I learned that feeling disgusted after going along with something intimate you didn’t want to do was actually a fairly normal response to that situation.
You’re also allowed to agree to or initiate something and then change your mind.
As I have continued to grow in life experiences and seeing life become more publicly shared and critiqued and criticized, alongside the rest of the world, my eyes have been burned open to atrocities occurring al around us, all of the time. I know I’m not alone in feeling like we are constantly bombarded with bad news and tragedy. The world feels like a scary, dark, depressing place more often than any of us ever bargained for, I’m guessing.
I have spent hours in contacts with others who have had experiences in these (and other) areas. Survivors have my heart. I hold them all dear.
Lately, I’ve been feeling very overwhelmed on social media. It isn’t the presentation of the many terrible things going on that overwhelms me, but the commentary. I know that many things presented on social media are biased in some way, and I try to take the information presented with a grain of salt, and to verify, and to research both sides of the cards before I make my judgements. But… when I read commentary on things, I find it much more difficult to do so…
ESPECIALLY when it comes to commentary regarding sexual assault, harassment, and abuse. For example, famously, the Epstein files.
Rapists
Pedophiles
Molesters
Murders
Assailants
Traffickers
Solicitors
and so many other labels ascribed to those people who make unwanted words, thoughts, gestures, and contact with a person who is non-consensual, or not wanting these things to be aimed toward or acted out upon them.
There are too many jokes.
There are too many people victim shaming.
There are too many pcople victim blaming.
There are too many justifying these crimes against others.
I find it utterly disgusting when someone tries to pit one abuser against another, saying we shouldn’t be mad about one because we weren’t mad about another in the past. There may have been circumstances in the past that affected someone’s ability to process any of these things then. We can’t change the past but we can change the future. We have to start changing our thinking and our conversations NOW.
We shouldn’t be excusing this despicable behavior just because someone has led a perfect, near perfect, okay-ish, or terrible public life. It isn’t excusable when you’re a politician, entrepreneur, celebrity, clergy, teacher, any job, any age, ANYTHING. IT IS ALWAYS INEXCUSABLE.
This is not political. It's HUMANE.
Now. Always. Now is better than never, and each one needs to be held accountable by law for the devastation they put upon another human.
The effects of sexual assault and abuse are often not short term. A person can stuff it down for decades, and be in the act of intimacy with another person that they initiated, and suddenly be in a moment of panic, terror, shame, disgust, etc. and need things to end. It is not uncommon. It is not uncommon for survivors to deal with mental health or body issues. It is not uncommon for survivors to self-sabotage relationships. It’s not uncommon for survivors to black it all out and forget about it completely until something unrelated triggers them and breaks them down.
It’s not uncommon that this is happening right now, as you read my words. And now. Oh, and right now too.
IT SHOULD BE UNCOMMON THAT IT HAPPENS AT ALL.
I also find it entirely devastating that people still need to be reminded that what a person wears does not justify sexual assault, abuse, or harassment. What their body is shaped like does not justify sexual assault, abuse, or harassment. What they have been drinking does not justify sexual assault, abuse, or harassment.
Being drunk does not justify perpetrating sexual assault, abuse, or harassment.
Sexual abuse, assault, and harassment occurs across all “lines” we draw between ourselves- economic, religious, race, age, location, etc.
So many victims are CHILDREN.
As adults, we spend so much time trying to make sure that youth understand that “no” means “no” at any time it is spoken, in any situation. When someone says “stop,” they mean it. If someone rejects you, you accept it. We tell them to listen to and respect adults, as well as their peers. Children ask us a question, and we say "no" and they ask why, so we say "because I said so." It's ingrained from early childhood.
But somehow, too many adults forget it applies to adults, too. "No" and "stop" get ignored.
We are supposed to be protecting each other, not destroying each other. We are especially supposed to be protecting our children and youth.
I know that a child becomes a legal adult at age 18 in the United States of America, but it is widely known research now that a person’s brain doesn’t fully develop until their early to mid twenties. Just a tidbit in case you hadn’t heard that before.
In terms of protecting our children, youth, and each other, we need to be conscious of the fact that there are eyes and ears around you regularly, and they see, hear, and sense your reactions and beliefs to the terrible things going on in the world. They will develop a sense of safety or fear in response to those. They will trust you or they won’t when it comes to important issues as well as trivial things. They will mimick people they love, sometimes even if they don’t understand what or why.
They know how we are treating each other.
They know how we are discussing each other.
They know.
We must do better. We cannot divide the world continually, especially in regard to things that we all (or most all) agree are just plain wrong.
I know this has been long. But, I feel it’s been important.
As I wind down, I can’t help but put myself back in my younger shoes, and wish I had been braver, or more informed, or…. Something. But I cannot take the blame- especially not for the youngest situation. He knew what he was doing was wrong. As a teenager, I would like to think both boys knew what they did was wrong, but I never will know, and it doesn’t matter, because in both situations, I didn’t ask for or agree to things that happened to me.
It is soul-crushingly difficult to be brave enough to speak out when something that destroys your innocence is inflicted upon you. I didn’t see that until that night in the hospital room. But I see it now, and I see it every day in any brave person who names their abuser publicly. I see it as they fight against censorship of the names and events, and my heart honors them.
Can you feel their pain?
You should. Put yourself in their shoes and then read or write public comments online. What if it happened to you? To your children? To your family? To your friends?
Feel the judgement and blame from millions of people who do not know you, or who are against you because your abuser is someone they like. Try it.
I hope it helps you realize how brave they are. How strong they are.
Speaking out is a hard thing to do. It shouldn’t be.
A year ago, one of my children spoke out against a staff that they admired, in a place that they felt safe. It wasn’t a physical action that occurred against them, but unwanted and potentially inappropriate words toward multiple children. Sure, they weren’t “terrible” but my child felt uneasy and that they were wrong. My child trusted their good moral compass. They came to me. I told them they should do the difficult, brave, scary thing, and speak out. So they did.
The person in authority of the situation at the time commended them on their strength and bravery, because it looks like an insurmountable feat for a child to speak out on the wrongdoing of an adult that they trust, and in some times, admire, and in some times, love. We were fortunate this situations as more minor that sexual assault, abuse, or harassment. But it wasn’t okay.
It's difficult for adults, too. But, if there's someone or something you need to talk about, please do it. You can do difficult things. You already have- you survived.
If you made it through all of this, I hope it’s helped something in someway. If you or anyone you know is dealing with sexual assault, abuse, or harassment, suicide or self-harm, or dangerous situations, please know you are not alone, and reach out to someone.
National Sexual Assault Hotline - 1-800-656-4673 (Free, Confidential, 24/7 Support) - https://rainn.org (chat and text available)
National Sexual Violence Resource Center - https://nsvrc.org
National Deomestic Violence Hotline - 1-800-799-7233 (or text BEGIN to 88788) - http://thehotline.org
National Human Trafficking Hotline - 1-888-373-7888 (or text INFO to 233733) - http://humantraffickinghotline.org
Department of Justice - https://www.justice.gov
Helpline Center - dial 211 - https://www.helplinecenter.org
And, if you need someone to be a safe space or more area specific resources, I’m here.
Nicole.m.worthley@gmail.com
