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samesurvivor-blog · 7 years ago

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Survivor

Here's my problem: I don't normally tell people in my life things because I don't feel like they care, or maybe I feel like I'm a burden when I share my problems. I just keep things to myself and I've gotten good at dealing with things on my own. But this is what caused my PTSD. After it happened, I went about my day pretending that nothing had happened. I quickly dried my tears, took a breath, went home and made sure to make it seem like nothing was wrong so my parents wouldn't ask me. I knew I could never tell them because it would break them to know that something like that happened to their little girl. And I know that I would be punished for something that is not my fault but that would be their reaction to their anger because that's how it usually is. I chose not to tell any of my closest friends about it because I knew this was something I could handle on my own. If I told anyone, they would feel sorry for me. They would see me as a victim, but that's not me. I don't want someone's pity. My friends wouldn't even know what to do if I told them, because who does? You can't go back and change what happened and you can want to help as much as you want, but how? What could you to say to someone like that? I wouldn't know what to say either as someone who's been through it. My brother has always given the best advice, but I feel like he wouldn't know what to say in this situation either. And again, he did a lot to help raise me, he wouldn't want to know that something like that happened to his little sister. I keep saying "little" because that's how my family sees me, but I want to make it clear that I was not little when this happened. I was 19. This happened in May 2017 and for a couple months, I was perfectly normal. I nearly deleted the event from my memory, I never thought of it. It was like it never happened and I thought that meant I was dealing with it correctly. I don't think of it so I don't feel negatively and I can go on with my life. In September, there was another event of similar occurrence but nowhere near the same level of intensity as the previous. There are levels of intensity for sexual harassment, assault and rape. For example, it might begin with catcalling, which isn't okay but very common and often not too traumatizing. But even within that there are different levels. Being given a "compliment" generally won't provide as much fear as other encounters women can experience on the street. My second event made me feel the same helplessness and lack of control over the situation and although it was a situation that I've been in prior to the event in May and have been able to handle before, it caused my body to freeze and I was left scared and in tears. I broke down. I thought this was my normal reaction to this situation, given my past. This is when I believe my PTSD symptoms started but I had no idea. The second event put me back in the first. I re-experienced emotions I thought I had forgotten. I cried more in this "silly" situation of someone denying me the eight to say "no" than my actual attack. In October, I started seeing #MeToo around. It pained me to find out what it meant the first time that I saw it. It pained me even more to find out the number of women I knew who have had similar experiences. I so desperately wanted to post this. But I can't have people in my life know. I even considered posting a picture and subtly hiding "#MeToo" somewhere in it, just so that's it's out there. But I could never build up the courage. Every time I saw that hashtag I instantly felt deeply saddened. When I read anonymous posts sharing intense detail, I often cried. I still didn't consider any of this to be PTSD, but I was triggered. And people use that word so often that I don't even want to use it now but I don't know how else to explain what's happening to me. It got to the point that I needed a break from the internet until the hashtag died down. When I would see one of these posts when I was on campus, I excused myself to the bathroom to cry. I could not watch a rape scene or an almost rape scene on a TV show or movie without feeling sick to my stomach and breaking down and crying. Not only that, hearing about other people's trauma that wasn't related to mine. The memory of my first event would invade my thoughts if the topic of conversation was car accidents, natural disasters or war. I became confused. In November, I participated in a study that was affiliated with my university, as I do from time to time. This particular study consisted of an extensively long questionnaire about everything. This included substance use, family history, what my home life is like, what my social life is like and there was even a section about if I had experienced any trauma. My responses to this questionnaire is what first made me start to consider that I might be experiencing symptoms of PTSD. November was also a particularly rough month for me with several other things going on in my life that would be hard for anyone to deal with. It was always one thing after another and it didn't seem to stop. And again, any time I experienced any form of stress, my mind would go back to that first event. It felt like this event was taking control over my life, control over me. I hate that. I hate to even admit it. I always thought I was in full control of my feelings. I never allow things to affect me in such a manner and I still do not understand why this one did or how it could. I considered myself to be very good at this but this one got to me. I then read that PTSD symptoms often develop when the memory of what happened and my feelings about it become disconnected. The way I dealt with this, and how I always deal with stress, is pretend it never happened and move on. Because life goes on and I can't pause it to deal with something. That may have worked for any other stressful situation for me, but this exact way I was approaching it caused my PTSD symptoms. And I can try to ignore my symptoms and move on like I normally would, which would make me feel like I'm in control. But what about this symptoms I can't control? What about when I wake up from a dream in which I try to escape a rape. My body is frozen, I'm already in tears and I don't know why and my heart is racing. I lie there waiting for my body to calm down. It is now December, I do my research about PTSD but tell no one. As a psychology student and a mental health advocate, it doesn't sit right with me. I can't tell other people what happened to me. I would not even consider a stranger or a professional. I can't have anyone attributing this event, with me. It's almost that I am ashamed even though I know it could not have been my fault. But even with all of the awareness surrounding this topic recently, I still hold my own stigma. The country that I was born in didn't tell men not to rape. It told women to learn self-defense, to carry pepper spray, to place their keys between their knuckles when they walk alone. Don't make eye-contact with men that speak to you on the street, they will perceive it as an invitation. Boys will be boys and we will not try to fix their behaviour, instead you should alter yours to accommodate them. Your safety isn't important enough to punish predators. Your word is just an allegation, it doesn't matter. I was raised in a house with parents who told me that a woman who gets raped deserves to be raped. Because a woman should not be out at night anyways. And she shouldn't have been dressing like that either. As if those are the only scenarios in which a woman could get raped and as if that is justifiable.Even with my extremely early curfew, I was sexually assaulted and raped in broad daylight. Yes, I am late for the #MeToo trend. But this isn't about a trend. This is about my inability to take control over my life because someone decided they had control over my body. Someone decided that my word meant nothing. My "no" didn't have as much credit as the "yes" in his head. And a man could read this and say that this is wrong but what about when you speak over me? What about when the words I speak do not matter to you and you discredit them because it came from my mouth and not from a man's, who you perceive to be more knowledgeable? What about when you think your opinion is more important and refuse to acknowledge mine? You are facilitating the patriarchy that engraves my fear when a man, who is bigger and stronger than me, looks at me for too long, leaving me wondering if his next move will be an attack. If my next move will have to be defense. I wonder why men suddenly tell me I'm no longer attractive when I refuse to have sex with them. Or even when I don't want to kiss them or give them my number. I wonder about the next time I will say "no" and if that man understands what that means. I wonder if there will be another time that I have to say "stop". I wonder if there will be another time that man tightly grip my wrists so I can't fight back and still thinks it's okay to proceed. I wonder if there will ever be another time that I kick and scream and cry in front of someone and if that would be enough to stop them. I wonder if someone will ever "keep" me again, fighting for my life, for several hours.

#mental health #ptsd #metoo

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