the third and final time | !!TW!! mentions of sexual assault

I did it. It took me four years, four messy years of denial, self-blame, more denial, and anger to process what he did to me. I screwed up a lot, said and did the wrong things, hurt people, put myself in risky situations to avoid the thought of someone who I unconditionally cared for taking advantage of me. It was a one-time violation disguised as love. It haunted me. It made me blame myself. I even wished that it was more severe so I could take it seriously. Even though he only did it once, those minutes where my boundaries were shredded for his convenience were real. And now, today, I finally stood up for myself. It took a push from a stranger with who I shared my conflictions on here to breathe some fire back into my spirit. They reminded me of the main point of speaking up. For me, it was never to get revenge or push for an admittance; I'd never get that. It was to give the girl who froze up during the sexual assault a voice. It was to give the girl who beat herself down to actual pulp for not saying no sooner a voice. It was to give that girl, imprisoned to that memory, the voice she deserved.

I've done this before, and it never gets any less scary. The responses are never the "right" thing, and it's sickening to be told that it's all in your head or that it never existed (my personal favorite is when this guy told me he was sorry that he made me feel that I was sexually assaulted). Guy 1 was when I was 16; I ended up apologizing for speaking up. I have forgiven myself for that; I was only 16. Guy 2 was this one; I was 17. I told guy 2 about guy 1; guy 2 promised he'd never do the same thing. I fell in maddened love with him. Guy 3 was when I was 18, a 9-month relationship; I was grateful to have the happy ending of getting him expelled from my college. Guy 3 knew about guy 2 and guy 1.

What I realized here is that my trauma shouldn't be used as a deterrent to prevent that the next partner won't do the same. It's precious and painful; it's supposed to be treasured and protected even though its origins are rooted in havoc. Yet, it makes up the most sacred parts of me; it put me on a journey of learning how to survive with it. It's a story that will be told when I think the other person is worthy, that they will actually care, that they have my best interest in mind.

The backlash from all of this, from confronting your trauma to speaking up about it, to put it simply, fucking sucks. It burns. It screams. It rears its ugly head. But afterward, after you collect yourself and sit down for a few seconds in the quietness that follows, you realize that what you did took so much courage; your pride soars. One thing I always felt after the anxiety was that I never regretted speaking up. I had nothing to mourn. I gave the damage its voice.

It's harrowing, mortifying, but beautiful once the ash settles.

It took me four years to speak up to him and an hour to write the message. And when I hit 'send,' my hands were shaking, my body was coursing with nerves and adrenaline, but after the text sat, bearing its teeth at me, I smiled and began to laugh.

I never held it against myself for not speaking up more. Just realizing that what happened was sexual assault and allowing me to feel angry and betrayed wins the battle. Telling yourself that it isn't your fault and actually believing it is a remarkable feeling. These are good enough. Taking any step forward to move on is good enough. For me, I needed to tell him that he sexually assaulted me to move on completely. Speaking up made it real.

Whatever his response is or isn't, it doesn't matter. What matters is that I did this for myself. I did all I could today, and I am on edge, but the place where that memory was anchored, feels lighter. Now, it's time to forgive myself and to forgive what happened. Some days I will be more victim than survivor, and that's okay. What I'm proud of is that,

We did it again, the third and final time.