The Aftermath

The Aftermath

Hello and welcome to my blog, Raped 25 Years. At this time, I invite you to join me as I travel through my journey of healing, from rape and abuse. Please come with me, and don’t forget to stay to the end in order to enjoy my gem of positivity.

The aftermath of rape and childhood sexual abuse among individuals is many and varied, simply because every individual is different. I can only really speak from my experiences. It may be similar to the experience of others, and maybe even the reader. I will speak of my point of view from my most recent experience of sexual assault this year, by the man I refer to as Alex. 

When I saw him turn up at my front door, my heart pounded and my brain automatically panicked into overdrive. My automatic thought was, “How could he have found me after all these years?” I have moved eleven times since I last saw him. I even moved areas of the country three times. So he should not have known where I was.

He tricked me into letting him in. Then he pushed me to the ground and raped me.

Immediately after the rape, I felt so dirty. So dirty that I couldn’t get clean. I even scrubbed my body all over in the shower afterwards with steel wool. I scoured my vagina until it bled.I stayed in that shower scrubbing myself for half hour, before I finally realised that the shower had made me as clean as it possibly could. But I still felt dirty on the inside.

My body left that shower raw and bleeding in places. I didn’t want to believe the reality that I had been raped yet again. There was also the feeling of my body having let me down. I wasn’t strong enough to fight him off. My body had had a physical response that seemed to be positive to the act itself, as if I enjoyed the assault.

I felt my body was against me too. Then came the thoughts. I was weak for the rape to have happened. I must have consented for my body to react in a positive way (I had orgasmed). I felt I would never be safe, no matter where I moved to. I should have stayed in my bedroom, then he wouldn’t have seen me. Just basically, it was all my fault.

I finally talked it through with Dr H. And he tried to set me straight, which worked mostly. But even that took time to sink in and help me to better cope with my feelings of worthlessness and body betrayal.

Dr H explained over and over again that the rape had not been my fault. I wasn’t the one who pushed me to the floor. I wasn’t the one who violated my body. And as for my body, Dr H explained several times about its automatic reflex reaction. 

Just because an orgasm may happen during the act of rape, it doesn’t mean consent of any sort. It it merely a base involuntary reaction. The body responds regardless of whether consent is given or not. You have no say over it, any more than whether or not you breathe. But if you haven’t said yes of your own volition or have said yes under duress, it’s rape. Even if you are willing to have sex, but your partner changes the ball game, such as slipping the condom off before entry, that still counts as a sexual assault. If it is not what you agreed to freely, it was not consensual.

I’m now in the position of having to start again, in my healing process. Not completely from the beginning, but a lot of processing and healing just the same. My hyper vigilance is now back at full force.

However, it’s not all bad news. I’m not starting from the complete beginning, in that I already have my safe supports in place, namely Dr H and Dr Q. They’re both doing the hard work of helping me get through the feelings of pain and loathing I have for myself again. But they’re being brilliant in their efforts, and slowly I’m coming round.

The path in the aftermath of a sexual assault is never easy. But it does help to have family, friends, and professionals in your support team. Because every time you give up telling yourself, “It wasn’t my fault”, they will be there to help you. And one day, in the long dim distant future, you may actually come to realise that yourself.

This time, the gem of positivity comes from a sticker I have on my journal, so I can see it every day. I don’t know who or where the saying comes from, but I am grateful to the person who came up with it:

You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think

And yes, those words do apply to me. Yes, even me. I am brave, and strong, and even smart, no matter how I may feel at times I’m not. And take it from me, you are too.

Thank you for joining me on this short walk. Don’t forget to leave a comment on what words encourage you to get through. And until next time, breathe - and believe.