I dream of being trapped under someone's heavy arm. It hurts and I can't breathe.
I know how this nightmare goes; it's always the same. I cannot tell if the pain and suffocation I feel is real or not, so I thrash around in my sleep. Sometimes I scream.
Eventually I wake, still feeling pain, not wanting to be touched.
The attacks happened over six years ago. But it's only in recent months that I've gained the assertiveness to start labelling them the attacks, thanks to therapy. Before therapy, I was in a self-imposed psychological hiding; my trauma buried, layered with self-blame, self-loathing and sprinkled with self-deprecating wit. But you cannot hide from nasty memories forever. You can be strong, yes. But let me tell you something - being strong is not the same as being resilient. Being strong is just the mask for the pain. Resilience is about being okay to wear the pain. I am not yet resilient.
After the assaults, I was convinced I was going to die early by a tragic accident or illness. I assumed everyone in their mid-20s felt that way. I didn't know that my impending sense of doom was just one of many symptoms I experienced of post traumatic stress disorder. I had no idea what I was living with. Hypervigilance, nightmares, guilt, irritability, self-destructive behaviour, anxiety, the distrust in everyone around me - I knew it was related but I hadn't connected all the dots. My boundaries had been violated. How was I to know what was real? The trauma had damaged my neural pathways.
Then, the #MeToo movement gathered momentum and the clocks all seemed to wind back in time. The brick walls I'd built around this hiding place of shame were not as strong as I thought and they began to tumble. Fortunately, I was already working with a therapist when everything began to unravel. Initially, I resisted. I was scared I wouldn't be believed. But through my therapist's delicate and respectful footsteps around this source of pain, I began to share my story. I quickly learnt I was eligible for ACC-funded counselling to see another therapist specialised in dealing with sexual trauma. The process was straightforward. My husband made the initial phone call for me to get me on the path. I was granted a series of early planning sessions to establish how therapy would unfold and my new therapist did all the paperwork for me.
I'm a work in progress, but I'm gaining clarity about the abuse while understanding my actions and inactions over the last seven years. The self-blame and guilt - a common theme for sexual violence victims - is slipping away, although it still seeps through. I'm learning how to set boundaries and that I'm allowed to push back if someone imposes on them.
