I find it hard to consider myself a victim.

“Survivor” is much more relatable since it feels like I’ve been surviving things my entire life. My parents’ divorce, social ostracization in high school followed by depression, a mentally abusive significant other, a miscarriage… All of these experiences, although leaving me with a few scars, shaped me into the woman I am today. After surviving all of that, I felt stronger, wiser...capable of overcoming anything.

Nothing prepared me for surviving a sexual assault.

I was an RA in college, so along with training in peer mediation and programming, we were given instruction on what to do if a resident came to us with a claim of sexual assault. Training is one thing because you always think it’s going to happen to someone else, never yourself. Everything I had learned in training and my psychology courses flew out the window the moment it happened to me. And all the rape statistics and common facts were eerily haunting afterward.

Because it was someone I knew.  Someone I trusted.

I froze.  There was no struggle.

I did not report because I felt no one would believe me.

And on top of all that, I had lost my strength. I felt defeated, dirty, weak. Suddenly hanging out with my friends on campus became hard because I never knew when I’d run into him. Sleep was almost impossible. I never felt clean. The only respite I got from the ongoing trauma was when I was in class since it forced me to focus on something other than him. I didn’t know for a long time how to get back to the resilient woman I had been. And I think that was due to there being so much denial about my assault. It took me months to even acknowledge that what happened to me had not merely been a bad sexual encounter, but rape. It took several friends, a therapist, and a lot of time to just accept what had really happened. Looking back on it, that’s what I believe helped me to be able to pull the pieces back together, to begin the healing process.

To feel like a survivor, and not a victim.

Accepting the sexual assault was my first step on the road to recovery. Not that I’m anywhere near being healed. Some days it still feels like it just happened, that everything feels raw and exposed, and I guess I’ve felt that a lot lately with the year two mark creeping ever closer. But I don’t want this assault to define me. I want desperately for it to be just one more thing that I’ve overcome, that I survive. That’s why I think sharing my story is important. Writing has always been a therapeutic outlet for me, something I take pride in and enjoy. My hope is that this helps not only me, but anyone else who has had to endure this kind of trauma. I know the more I talk about it, the stronger I feel. The more I feel like I can claim some closure. And I want that for anyone else who has experienced sexual assault. For all those who have felt isolated, defeated, ashamed, unloved, and broken...

We are not alone; we have a voice.

We are HER.