My best friend in college showed me what safety is.
A boyfriend showed me the right way to be loved.
Two friends took me into their home, made me their family and gave me a sanctuary.
My best friend acts as a kickstand when I teeter.
My husband embraces all parts of who I am.
My friends have shared their parents with me. Those parents have given me basic needs.
“Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.” – Mister Rogers
Easter was the first holiday after I broke the silence. I was 26 and the fallout meant I would spend the day alone. While prepared to do so, it still hurt.
I declined many sweet offers from friends to join their families. I was still too ashamed.
Forever, I will be grateful to one friend who – in the most loving way possible – bullied me into Easter with her family. On the drive back to my house, I wept quiet tears because for that moment, kindness eclipsed everything else.
Omitting the why and subsequent tears, I told that story at her wedding. That single act of determined compassion and kindness still makes me misty.
Look for the helpers.
Safety is second only to food, water and sleep in Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs. And in the wake of sexual assault, I never felt safe.
I felt most vulnerable on the brink of sleep. Today, the reason falling asleep was difficult is clear. But at the time, I did what people do; I found a way to avoid that feeling.
Moving targets are less vulnerable and allow little time for intrusive thoughts. So, I never stopped moving. My schedule was ridiculous. I habitually exhausted myself so I’d be too tired to think.
The first time I remember falling asleep on my terms was next to my best friend in college. Everyone assumed “we’re just friends” really meant he and I were sleeping together. And we were, but not like that.
I gravitated to the safety of his side. Especially in times vulnerability: Whenever I planned to drink a lot, in the event of unwanted male attention, at night and so on. He protected me. We never talked about it. He just let me be near him. And the safety he gave me was something no other person had done in my life.
I did not make it this far on my own. So many friends propped me up, held me close to their hearts and even carried me when the paralysis of shame or fear set in.
And most of them don’t even know the impact of their kindness and compassion – they are just simply extraordinary people I’ve been so lucky to have found.
In the before times, I was:
Silenced by shame.
Imploded by hate.
Terrified by a secret.
Sparked by “Why do you always call your dad an asshole?”
Fueled by standing up for myself.
Devastated by apathy.
Then I was:
Baffled by the 2016 election; though I stayed quiet.
Disgusted by the #metoo stories; yet I didn’t speak up.
Appalled by the dismissal of Dr. Ford; and my anger percolated.
Horrified by seeing a friend and meeting her brother — both raped daily by their father; and my fury simmered.
Crushed to learn when my friend posted about her own sexual assault as a preschooler …
And finally, finally, I exploded:
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