Healing Takes Time

It is amazing how even the "smallest" act can impact someone for so long.

***Important information for this story, I have a rare joint condition that causes me to easily injure myself and dislocate joints. ***

It was October 12, 2019. The week before I was having a really difficult time at home and for some rest and separation from my stressors, I traveled from Pennsylvania to Missouri to spend a week with my parents. This was a time to escape and think and pray and just be comforted by my parents who always know how to encourage and uplift me.

On October 12th, I was set to fly home, back to reality, not having the slightest inclination that the most unreal, yet sadly so very real thing, would happen on my flight home.

I was scheduled for a connecting flight and since very few people fly out of the middle of nowhere Missouri/Arkansas, my first flight only had a total of five people on it and it was a wonderful, relaxing flight. I had a lay over in North Carolina and then finally boarded my second flight, so ready to just get home after traveling all day.

I was sitting by the window, there no one in the middle seat and this nice, older man was in the isle seat just minding his own business. Then, just as they were about to close boarding, another passenger got on the plane and sat in the middle seat of my row, right beside me. He looked at me and the first thing he said was "Hey girl, want to join the mile high club?" I politely told him that I was not at all interested and put in my head phones, in an effort to avoid any further communication.

It was later at night, around 10:00 p.m. and I was tired from my crazy few weeks and traveling for the day, so halfway through the flight, I decided to close my eyes and just relax while listening to my music. It was about five minutes after I had closed my eyes that I felt his hand on my thigh, under my dress, sliding further and further up my leg. It took a moment for me to even realize what was happening and by that time, his hands were on areas of my body designed only for my husband.

It all happened so fast,f yet felt like it was happening in slow motion. The elderly gentleman in the isle seat was asleep. I was scared. I was shocked. I was confused. Thankfully, I reacted, and I elbowed the man in the ribs as hard as I could. I wasn't thinking, I just wanted his hand off of me. The man screamed out in pain, waking the man in the isle seat and alerting the flight attendants that something was wrong. I was shocked. I felt sick. I was in pain. It was then that the flight attendant pointed out to me that my shoulder was very horribly dislocated. Having dealt with many dislocations throughout my life, I was able to put my shoulder back in place, but that didn't stop the pain. It didn't stop the nausea. It didn't stop the shock.

The flight attendants were asking what was going on and before I could say a word, the man told them "This b***h just elbowed me and I think she broke my ribs." I swear that at that moment, I felt like I could scream, cry, punch him, etc., yet I just stared in shock. The man was lifting his shirt and showing the flight attendants his ribs which were already beginning to bruise. They asked me for my side of the story. I, through the shock, managed to tell them what happened and when they asked the man about it, he said "Well, yeah I did that, but it's not my fault. She is wearing that red dress and you know the expression, 'devil in a red dress', I had no choice." My head was spinning. My shoulder was hurting. I was still nauseous. It all felt unreal that this was happening, but now he was blaming me?

One flight attendant pulled me aside to talk to me while the other flight attendant talked to the man. They asked me if I wanted to press charges. Before I had a chance to even think, the other flight attendant came over and said that if I press charges on the man for sexual assault, he stated that he would press assault charges against me for possibly breaking his ribs. I didn't know what to do. Do I press charges? Do I risk being charged with assault when that could ruin the career I had been working toward for the past two years? I asked the flight attendant if I could have some time to think about it. Time to get home and talk to my husband. Time to attempt to process what had happened. They told me that I could have time and they would just write up a report for their records. They put me back in my seat and moved the man to another seat where he continued to loudly complain, to anyone who would listen, that some crazy lady had broken his ribs.

The plan landed and the flight attendants walked me to the baggage claim so I wouldn't have to potentially be a target for this man. Yet that couldn't stop me from still being a target. The man was at the baggage claim, still complaining to everyone about me breaking his ribs. A woman with a baby then came to me, not knowing fully what had happened, and verbally attacked me for breaking the mans ribs because his yell had woken her child. I was so overwhelmed. I was still in shock and scared and now being verbally attacked by some woman.

My husband picked me up from the airport and I told him what had happened. It was all starting to become more real in my mind, and in my shoulder which was now throbbing and swollen. All I kept thinking was "How did this happen?", "Is this really my fault somehow?", "Should I not have worn a dress on the plane?" These thoughts were torturing me as I am telling my husband about the events of the night.

I called my dad to let him know that I had landed and at the sound of his voice, I began to break down and cry leading him to ask me what had happened. I explained the best I could and he told me how sorry he was, then said that I would know not to wear a dress on a plane again. My dad is the greatest man in history. I have never met a man more kind, compassionate, understanding, or loving person than him, yet those words cut right through me. Though I know this isn't what he had meant, it furthered this idea in my confused mind that this was somehow partially my fault.

Over the next week, my husband and I talked and I decided not to press charges. There were many reasons to this decision, but the biggest was that I was living every moment in a panic and the thought of ever seeing the man again made me fall into a full blown panic attack.

For the first few weeks, I couldn't sleep, any time I would fall asleep, I would wake up in a panic from nightmares. Any time my husband would touch me, I would jump, flinch, or cry. I got myself into see my counselor and my doctor. Finally, between anti-anxiety medications, therapy, a lot of prayer, and a taser my husband bought me that never left my side, I was beginning to have a couple moments of peace between my panicked thoughts and feelings. I was still scared to be alone in a room with any man, even one I knew. Crowds of people were too much for me to handle. The sound of a man's voice, even my husband's, would put me on high alert. And on top of all of the emotional issues, I was dealing with the slowly subsiding pain in my shoulder.

In November, I ended up finding out that this man was in prison for having previously done the same thing, and worse, to other women and girls. That knowledge helped to calm some of the irrational fears that the man would somehow find me and finish the job he had started, but the emotional issues continued.

Slowly, I was able to start living without the constant fear and panic. I still carried around my taser everywhere, just to make me feel safer, but I was finally starting to feel like I was in a better emotional state. That said, one thing continued...

Considering how badly I had dislocated my shoulder, combined with my joint condition, my shoulder now frequently will partially or totally dislocate, without any real reason or activity to provoke it. Every time my shoulder slides around, dislocates, is unstable, etc., it is like a reminder of what happened. I flash back to that night. I can't help but torture myself over what I could have done differently. Sure, the logical part of me knows that this was not my fault, but logic plays a very small role in the emotional world.

Last week I once again dislocated my shoulder. Due to it slipping in and out for almost a year after that horrible dislocation, this last dislocation caused me to tear all sorts of stuff in my shoulder because it had been weakened over the past year and finally all decided to give out. I now walk around, not only in physical pain, but dealing with more emotion than many people realize. Every time I get an extra twinge of pain, every time my muscles spasm from the torn bicep, every time I move, I feel like I could cry. Not from the physical pain, but from the memories.

Through the physical and emotional pain however, I try to remember that this pain is not a reminder of a horrible, small man who took advantage of a young woman on a plane. This pain is a badge of honor. This pain is to be a reminder that in a time of panic, I managed to stand up for myself. This pain is not a there because I have a joint condition that makes me weak. This pain is there because in the moment that it mattered, I was strong.

Healing physically and emotionally is a long process that takes time. Sometimes the most important thing you can do is to remember that you are strong, even if your strengths appears to others as a disability or a weakness.