Sexual Assault Statistics Are Shocking And True
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Health and Wellness

How I became a statistic

My sexual assault story

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How I became a statistic

Content warning: this article contains details of rape/sexual assault.

I used to hear the stories, read about it, hell — we even learned about it in school.

You hear the statistics: "Every 98 seconds another American is sexually assaulted."

"1 out of every 6 American women have been the victim of an attempted or completed rape."

But I never thought I would be that one girl. I never thought I would be a statistic.

I had spent most of my high school career in and out of hospitals. My health was not the best. Senior year I finally got healthy and decided I wanted a fresh start and moved halfway across the country to Oklahoma after graduation. My fresh start became my worst nightmare. I started dating a guy faster than I should have — that cowboy you always think about… boy, was I wrong. He quickly became physically, mentally and emotionally abusive.

It was the type of relationship you always hear about, that you think, "I would never let that happen to me!"

We fought a lot, anything I said or did made him mad. One night he got really mad at me. I had been sick and hadn't seen him. He told me he was going out with friends and I simply said, "OK, have fun babe" — those words would start a fight I will never forget. The night of the fight I went to see him, tried to fix things and apologized as if I did anything wrong. He pushed me to the middle seat of my truck, threw his beer bottle in the road and drove until he found a dark empty dirt road. He got on top of me and raped me. When he finished, he got back in the driver seat, drove for what felt like hours but really was only a few minutes, parked and did it again. I will never forget the words "When we fight and you make me mad, I will just fuck you hard."

Those words replay in my head every day. The feeling of his hands around my neck and his body on top of mine is a feeling I seem to never escape, and I'm not sure if I ever will.

Letting go and forgiving someone who was never sorry in the first place is one of the hardest things I have ever done. It has been four years since HE made a mistake and changed my life forever. The past four years have been the hardest years of my life, filled with denial, regret, pain, sleepless nights and lots and lots of tears. But through it all has come happiness, smiles, and laughter. Things I truly never thought I would feel again.

They say everyone reacts differently to sexual assault. I remember sitting in the truck crying, I cried so hard I couldn't breathe. I knew I was about to walk back in the house and I had to pretend nothing had just happened and that is exactly what I did. I pretended nothing happened to me. For weeks I convinced myself it never happened. I went to school, work, hung out with family and friends. I even continued to date him. It wasn't until a month later would I finally escape his manipulation, anger, and abuse.

I never told many people. We live in a world where sexual assault is a hot and debated topic. It was easier to keep it to myself then deal with the pity parties, different behavior and being treated like I'm mentally ill or disabled. I didn't want to deal with the people who did not believe me and their hurtful comments and judgment. Or the people who disagree with how I handle MY pain and trauma. I quickly learned this world ridicules you no matter what.

You're damned if you do and damned if you don't.

If you tell everyone, you're looking for attention. If you tell no one, you're lying. This world tells survivors it is our fault. We put this upon ourselves. We must have dressed a certain way and we must have asked for it. We should have just left the abusive boyfriend. We probably didn't say "no" loud enough. How could we let this happen to ourselves? Why didn't you just stop him/her? This world is a sad and cruel place.

Try to imagine having to tell your mother your story, seeing the pain and tears in her eyes as she tries to hold it together for you. Or telling your father and seeing his heartbreak right in front of you. Or having to tell every partner you get with because the PTSD from being choked out and raped leaves you flinching and in constant fear. Or watching your little sister grow up knowing one day this could be her but praying to god she never has to go through this. Or telling your grandparents and watching them cry.

When sexual assault happens, it doesn't just affect the survivor, it affects the people closest to them as well.

I have spent the last four years trying to find myself, my voice, my place in this world. Putting the pieces back together one day at a time. There have been countless sleepless nights, nightmares, locking myself in the bathroom to cry, canceling plans, skipping work because it is easier to just stay in bed. Nothing can change or take away what happened to me and so many others. No words to fix it, no amount of time to make the pain go away. But I know the pain gets easier to deal with. The feeling of self-worth returns, happiness is found again. The struggle will remain but the outcome will be stronger. I have worked so hard to become stronger, smarter and one badass woman.

This process has taught me that it is OK to not be OK and to ask for help.

Telling people my story was terrifying to me. Being told "but you acted normal," "but you said nothing happened," "why didn't you leave him," "are you sure he heard you say no?" "why did you stay with him if he did that to you?" was hard, it hurt as equally as the rape. Maybe he didn't hear me say stop, begging. Did he see the tears roll down my face every tie he did it? Do you think he saw the fear in my eyes? Maybe he felt my hands trying to pry his hands off my neck.

Being labeled as a victim made me nauseous. I didn't want to be called that, I still don't. It is not who I am. I am me, I'm not his victim. I felt weak being called the victim.

I could write so much on this subject. On my story. But I have come to peace with it. But I do want to say this:

To the boy who raped me. I call you "boy" because that is exactly what you are. For a long time, I hoped you would die a slow and painful death, or that you would be hurt as much as you hurt me. But I know none of that will help me, it will not fix any of this. I want you to know you did not break me. You knocked me down but I have gotten back up, I have come back better than I have ever been. You took away my worth, my privacy, my energy, my innocence, my confidence, my safety and my wellbeing and even my own voice for to long. You may not rent space in my mind for free any longer.

To my friends and family that have stuck by my side through all of this and loved and supported me unconditionally, thank you. The love, gratitude, and appreciation I have for you is endless.

To my parents, I can never explain what you mean to me. The love and support you have given to me has gotten me through this. I love you more than you will ever know.

To my boyfriend, thank you for being so patient, caring and understanding. You have taught me what love is, how it is supposed to feel and be like. Your constant reminders of how loved and beautiful I am keeps me going every day.

To anyone who has gone through this but is afraid to speak up yet, that is perfectly OK. You deal with this pain in your own way. But please know I am here. You are not alone. When you are ready to speak up, please know I will always listen. Remember you are amazing — you are beautiful and you are not alone.

To anyone who knows someone that has gone through this, love them every day but love them harder on their bad days. Be there for them, even if that means just sitting in silence. Listen to them when they are ready, without judgment. Hug them harder, remind them they are not alone. Never force them to open up but rather encourage it.

Remember we are still people and we want to be treated that way.

Rape is a topic and situation that happens way too often in this world. You never think it will happen to you until it does.

You would be surprised how many people go through this. We often forget that survivors are actual people and not just a victim in a terrible event. I let this man rent space in my mind and life for too long. I'm taking back my life, confidence, and happiness. This is my story and I am proud of who I am.

I was raped and it does not define who I am.

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