The Gift of Pain

Today I made the step to become a victim advocate for my local police department.  I have shared parts of my story in this blog and I have spoken at some local high schools about what I have survived, but this will take my experience to the next level.

I have endured both child molestation and rape.  I know trauma; it is my bedfellow, my compatriate, my constant companion.  Even after years of therapy and honesty, there are nights when I wake up wailing.  

Surviving a violent crime consists of far more than making it out alive.  In the immediate aftermath there is a tidal wave of shame, the demons of "I should have..." overtaking your mind.  There are the visceral reminders: scent, sound, taste, touch, visual cues.  There is the gaping, astonishing solitude.  The absolute belief that, "I have been poisoned, and I am different from everyone else."

I have been through some pretty horrific things.  Please don't pity me, though.  Please don't treat me with kid gloves.  For though my past is painful, it has equipped me with a tremendous gift to relate to the survivors of today's crimes.  I get it.  I know how it feels.  I want to help.

What is your story?  What traumas have you endured?  How can you turn your pain into action?  That's what it's all about, really.  We find meaning in our hurt by reaching out to others who are hurting.  When we help our neighbors heal, we are able to heal ourselves.

"I Am 'That Girl.'"

Recently I was talking with a friend who is a fellow survivor of sexual assault. She has only shared her experience with a handful of people, and I asked her why that was. Her reply: "I don't want to be 'that girl.'" I asked her what she meant. "You know," she explained, "the girl who's tainted, marked, soiled. The one people are supposed to pity. The one with 'victim' tattooed across her forehead."

I get it. I don't want to be in this club either. By some stroke of shockingly shitty luck I too lived through sexual assault, more than once. If I could edit my life, those experiences would be the first on the cutting room floor. They may have helped mold me into the person I am today, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't do away with them in an instant if I had the power. I don't have that power, though. I tried to ignore my history, tried to pretend none of it ever happened, but that only led to decades of self-harmful behavior. Like it or not, I experienced significant trauma, and there's nothing I can do to change that.

What's important to note is that my sweet friend and I are not unique. One in five girls and one in twenty boys is a victim of childhood sexual assault. Nearly eighteen percent of women will be raped in their lifetimes. Take a moment to allow the gravity of those statistics to sink in. In an average American kindergarten classroom, one boy and four girls will experience sexual abuse. I was one of them. Maybe you or someone you love were as well. Rape, incest, and child sexual exploitation may be taboo topics, but they are by no means rare. Without question you know someone who has been personally touched by this tragedy.

I want to share with you what I shared with my sweet friend. There is no shame in being a survivor. What we have endured does not poison us, dirty us, or make us unworthy of love. Quite the opposite, in fact. We are strong, dynamic, empathic, incredibly inspirational champions of resilience. We have the power to spread awareneass, hope, and justice. It's not only okay to be "that girl," it's a badge of honor.

(If you are moved by the subject of rape, incest, or childhood sexual assault, I encourage you to get involved. Charities like RAINN.org, nomore.org, and aftersilence.org are incredible organizations that provide support to survivors and outreach to communities. We can work together to give our children a better, safer world.)