It’s Time.

**Trigger Warning** This post involves discussion of sexual assault.

I despise “band wagon” people.  Whether it be “fans” of a team who begins winning games, or a popular movie, hit song, whatever it is…it drives me crazy. 
Which is why, when #metoo began, I didn’t bother to look into what it was or why, suddenly, twitter, Facebook, Instagram began blowing up with people using the hashtag. 

But then, I couldn’t ignore it, anymore. 

I inadvertently learned what it meant and I stopped. My breath caught and I instantly welled up with tears. 
Why? 

Because I remembered. 
I remembered what I have spent years trying to block out, ignore and pretend happened to someone I didn’t know, instead of to me. 
When I first moved to Nashville, in 2005 people commented on how quiet I was. I rarely talked, I certainly shared no personal details, and did not elaborate on much, at all.  I simply did my job, politely spoke to others, and surrounded myself with extremely outgoing people, who would keep the conversations going so I didn’t have to. It’s because I was keeping this huge secret. 
Those who have known me for a long time know, this is not normal. I have been the “chatty kathy” queen since I was a small child. 
I don’t want the limelight. I don’t want to be labeled a “survivor”, a “hero”, “brave” or any other “award” given to people who live through a harrowing story.  I am anything but. I have spent all of my adult life keeping this buried down deep and refusing to deal with the repercussions of it.  
But, after reading all the other, strong women who have shared some or all of their stories, I decided
  THIS is the year I am letting go of demons. 
THIS is the year, I am owning my story, my self and my life, 
and I will no longer let the past define me. 
 I must say thank you to all of you who have been strong enough to share and post before I did. You gave me the strength to do this…

Yes, I am a #metoo 

This is something I have never spoken about in detail to ANY one. Even my own family only learned about it a few years ago, and I shared only the bare necessities. I didn’t go into detail, and said I never wanted to discuss it or be asked about it again.
I have tried to forget all the times I secretly hoped my parents wouldn’t allow me to go to his house, even though his parents were home… and all the times he would spin the situation to his liking.  I’ve tried to block out him telling me how much he loved me, how he would never do anything to hurt me, and how much *I* knew I wanted “this”. 
Ironically, he was hurting me so much more than if he’d hit me, or broken up with me. He was hurting my innocence. He was trying to talk me into giving him something I’d never be able to get back. I can’t tell you how many times I thought about giving in and just giving him what he was after. It seemed it would be easier than fighting about it, constantly. 

After all,  most all of my friends were doing it, and talking about how it wasn’t a big deal. It didn’t matter how many times I said no, told him I wasn’t interested in that lifestyle, asked him to respect my wishes, etc…he kept on and on.  I was scared of him, which was why I stayed for much longer than I should have, or really even wanted to. Also, I did like him.  He had a temper, and though he never hit me, he got in a lot of fights with others.  Yes, he was charismatic, and everyone loved him.  Yes, he idolized me, almost as if I were his trophy. He showed me off to everyone. But when it was just us, the topic always revolved around how much further he wanted to go, physically. 

 Still, I stayed.  I had to forcibly push him off of me, at one point, after he held me down and told me I couldn’t expect a guy to wait forever, and that I really wanted it, and he knew it. I was shaking uncontrollably.  Thankfully, I got out of the situation without further harm, but the emotional harm was already done. Somehow, I thought I had caused this. That I had teased or led him on somehow. 
Worse yet, I have since learned about trauma bonding and I can say with complete certainty that I definitely trauma bonded with him. I was scared to stay, but MORE scared to leave. 
This went on for much too long, I am sad to say.  
Before I go any further, I want to say, YES, a lot of girls dress in a way that leaves little to the imagination. Yes, girls can be overtly flirty and then pull away, leaving guys wanting more and feeling frustrated. Yes, girls can say they are ready and then change their minds. NONE of these things give guys a free pass to inflict harm on us, physically, verbally, sexually OR emotionally. 

I thought of talking to someone MANY times.  But, I was scared. I was embarrassed. I was afraid I’d look guilty, somehow.  After all, I put myself in precarious situations, and I DID allow things to go further than I should have. BUT, I always, always maintained that I did NOT want to go all the way.  And, I chose to stay with the guy even after this happened. I had nightmares.  I spent many sleepless nights wondering how to fix the situation.  Unfortunately, my teenage self was too afraid to do the obvious – talk to my parents and/or break up with him.  
I had the BEST relationship with my family. We talked about everything, we were extremely close, and I knew they’d do any and everything to protect me. Still, I was scared. 
When I finally decided to break up with him, it still didn’t stop. He even showed up at my mom’s house, years later, after my dad died, when no one was home except me, and made threats to me, after he nearly beat the front door down.  I called my mom who was out of town and let her listen to him, through the phone. Even though I was inside the house and he was outside, she could hear him clearly yelling and screaming at me. Still, I didn’t tell her what had gone on years earlier. 
I had physical reactions to seeing him.  I would start shaking, almost to the point of convulsing. I couldn’t stop. I broke out in a cold sweat, and felt sick. I had my first (of many) full blown panic attack. I went to great lengths to avoid him, and make sure we had absolutely no contact. Coincidentally, after we broke up, he was accused and charges were pressed regarding “unwanted advances” or (something like that) on someone else. Weirdly, I was relieved that it wasn’t just me. 
Finally, after more things happened, I told my mom.  I told her unless he was dead, I wanted to know nothing about him. 
Thankfully, I am one of the “lucky” ones, in that he never raped or viciously attacked me.  But, that experience and relationship has affected every relationship I have had, since. I question everyone, do not easily trust, and still look over my shoulder, constantly. 
It created in me this huge desire and need to be loved – by everyone; friends, guys I dated, my family. I craved love and acceptance, but I needed it to be true, real, but without expectations. However, in return, I began having unrealistic expectations of everyone – family, friends, boyfriends, people I worked for. It was creating more divides than I imagined because no one could live up to my expectations.  
Everything I went through struck a desire in me even in education. Its a major part of why I majored in Psychology, especially abnormal. I became almost obsessed with WHY people do the things they do. I couldn’t wait to delve into the minds of sociopaths. I aced a research paper I did in college on Jeffrey Dahmer, the serial killer who raped, murdered and dismembered those he killed. I knew he was crazy, but I couldn’t get away from trying to understand those kinds of people, because I felt I was dealing with a lot of the same scenarios. 
Situations we go through in life affect us in SO many different ways than just what is seen on the outside.  Thankfully, through the years, I have learned how to get through panic attacks I still have here and there. I have learned how to greet people who have the same name as the person who caused all of this panic, and at times, even depression in my life.  Most of all I have learned that I don’t have to be a victim for the rest of my life. 

It wasn’t until all these accusations from Hollywood became such a huge story, and in return, famous and non-famous women decided it was time we take a stand and speak out against those who think it’s funny, or “normal”, or not a big deal to make comments, to make gestures, and most of all, to engage in non-consensual acts, that I realized it IS time. 
 It’s time I realized all these little girls who look up to me, who want to be like me when they grow up and who look to me for advice, opinions, or for someone strong… well, they NEED me to speak up. Heaven forbid something like this ever happen to them. I shudder at the thought.  
It is my greatest desire to protect children, and girls, and if my speaking up and sharing this story can help even one girl have the courage to speak up, get help, or think twice about staying in a bad situation, I’ll do it over and over again. 
Abuse is NOT just physical.  It is sexual, emotional, verbal…and I have sat and cried as I listen and read other’s stories, and as I think about my own. 
I am finally ready to talk, whether in a public setting or in a personal conversation one-on-one. If you are going through anything like this in your life, I encourage you to reach out; to me, to your parents, to a trusted friend. Talk about it. Don’t hold it inside. 
We all have a voice. It’s time we learn to use it for good, instead of evil.