Breaking The Silence.

" You're a Slut"

" You should have fought more"

" Why didn't you tell him you had a boyfriend?"

"You were blacked out so...."

" It's Your Fault"

These are the exact quotes of things I was told by my rapist(s), and people who knew about what happened to me.

Before I begin writing any further, I want to add a disclaimer that this article does talk about experiences of sexual assault and drugs. If this is something that makes you uncomfortable or might be a trigger, I strongly suggest not reading, or coming back to this when you are ready.

Panic spread through my body. Through the clouded and blurry thoughts, I see him sitting on my bed. I feel him grab my body. I hear myself telling him no over and over. My voice rang out and fell on deaf ears. I feel myself squirm as he grabs my face to kiss me. I tell him I have a boyfriend to which he replies with a smirk " he doesn't have to know." He grabbed me and forced me to do things I didn't want to do. From there, the night gets blurry. I remember secretly texting my boyfriend at the time in a full-blown panic telling him what was going on.

He was able to get a hold of my friend in the next room who quickly shut the situation down and saved me from anything that was to come next. She took him home and then picked up my boyfriend. I don't remember much of this as my memories were impacted due to drugs. I do remember them asking what happened to which I replied " I don't want to talk about it."

I was struggling with addiction at the time and was blacked out. I had a boyfriend, yet a guy that I didn't know was over at my house and I don't know how he got there. The situation looked bad. Even though I didn't want it, I knew how it looked on the outside.

This next morning, my phone was blowing up with messages from different friends and the guy. Somehow, the word had gotten out. I had some messages of support, but I had plenty of others from the guy himself and his friends telling me that I was a liar. He called me a slut. He told his friends that I wanted it. And even though my mind was severely impacted that night, I do have clear memories of saying no.

The story continues for months later. You see, my boyfriend at the time would bring this situation up constantly. He told me he couldn't trust me. He told me it was my fault. He would ask me why I didn't fight harder. He blamed his cheating on this.

This incident is not my only experience, it's just the one that stands out the most. I have been in multiple "Almost rape" and "Actual rape" scenarios. And the same questions my boyfriend had asked me are the same questions I asked myself each time.

Why didn't I say no one more time? Why didn't I fight more? Is it my fault? Am I really a slut?

These were my "dirty little secrets." I found myself having flashbacks when I heard the word "Rape" In movies, news stories, or overhearing it in conversations. I would flinch when certain guys approached me. Every time I saw a picture of them or even heard a similar name, I instantly cringed as the memories flooded my brain. The horror, shock, and guilt I tried so hard to push down would all come crawling back to me.

I constantly lived in fear. Fear that it might happen again. Fear for my safety. Fear for other girl's safety because I was never strong enough to report it. Fear has controlled and ruled over my life for as long as I can remember.

As I am writing this, I still feel the fear creeping in. I fear the judgment I might receive from those reading this.

This writing was inspired by a recent therapy session I had a couple of weeks ago. I finally was brave enough to share my stories with her for the first time after 3 years of seeing her. I felt intense shame. What if she thinks it's my fault too? What if she looks at me differently now?

Walking into my next session after telling her, I sat down and the first words she told me were " I want you to know, it wasn't your fault. You could walk down the street naked and it still doesn't give anyone the right to touch you" I instantly wanted to break down.

All my life I was told that it was my fault, that I shouldn't have gotten so messed up that night, and that maybe what I was wearing mattered. And to have someone sit there and tell me that none of that mattered made me feel intense relief. It was something I had needed to hear for a very long time. Walking out the door after that session, my internal narrative started to change.

My "dirty secrets" were finally out there. And instead of feeling worse, I somehow felt better. I was finally able to realize that those words I was being told by others were just their own ignorance. When my rapist(s) tried to tell others I was lying or that I wanted it, they were just trying to cover their own asses because they know deep down what they did was wrong.

I know myself better than anyone else and I know what I did and didn't want. I know I am not a slut. I know that what I was wearing had nothing to do with it. (Hoodies, jeans, pink polka dot pajamas, etc.) I also know now that it was not my fault. I may have made some bad decisions, but in the end, they took advantage of me in my most vulnerable positions.

I still suffer from flashbacks from time to time. I still cringe when I see pictures or hear names. But, I am finally able to step outside of this and realize one of the most important things that I wish I had known years ago. It. Was. Not. My. Fault.

To anyone out there currently struggling from the after-effects of sexual assault, I hope you learn to reclaim your power. I hope you know it was, and never will be your fault. I hope you know that there are good people out there who will hear you, and understand you even when you can't understand yourself.

Sexual Assault Hotline: 1-800-656-4673

Even though she will probably never see this, I still wanted to say a huge thank you to my wonderful therapist for inspiring this story. Thank you for providing a safe place. Thank you for your wisdom and kind words. It will never be forgotten.