Exploring My Shadow... A Deep Dive into my Sexual Trauma.

Trigger Warning!
This expression includes a detailed personal account of my attempted rape. 

A personal piece I felt a strong need to express in writing as I piece together the importance shadow work (self exploration work that seeks to see and understand the unconcious as rejected aspects of ourselves that cause us to act and respond in less than desirable ways).

It wishes to emerge after another round of deep healing work related to and triggered by sexual trauma in my life.

I feel a shift in my awareness to admit and in my peripheral awareness to begin seeking connections and solutions to the problem of sexual violence and trauma in our society and culture and how I might be able to use all I have learned to make a difference and to find solutions in this area.

You are invited to take a deep dive with me into my shadow realm...

I was lying there, crippled with fear. My body was still coursing with panic and had numbed... I felt empty and heavy at the same time. I couldn't move. All the while my mind was racing. My sister was sleep on the mattress bed next to me with his cum all over her duvet. My mind was frantic trying to make sense of it all.
I knew it was wrong. It felt wrong, I felt disgusting. But I liked him, I loved him, I had wanted to spend time with him, I had enjoyed the attention, our closeness, the connection we had. I had told him before, during the day when he asked if he could come and stay that I didn't want any funny stuff to happen. I have been clear when he started touching me I was uncomfortable. I moved his hand away and said no. It didn't matter, as usual. He didn't listen. But I thought he would. I wanted to believe, again that he would listen and I could just have him without his touching.

Except this time it was different. We were older, I was growing tiny boobs and had hair starting down there. I didn't want him there. I didn't want him to see...I was a good girl and I wanted to wait and choose a boyfriend to touch me when I was ready. I was not ready and I did not want him as my boyfriend.

He was older, he was two and a quarter years older than me and for an 11 year old that meant 14 year old him was much bigger, stronger and more developed. He was cool, he was popular, he could get any girl he wanted, so I should be grateful that he wanted to spend time with me. I was. But I didn't want him to touch me. I just wanted some attention. I just wanted us to hang out with me and listen to music in my newly decorated room that was more grown up, where I had my own radio now.

“Wake up its a beautiful morning, feel the sun shining for your eyes...” I love this song and that tune and it felt (sadly) really exciting to listen to it, in my room and share it with someone. I was loving the moment as we lay on the bed listening to it. I was about to say how much I loved it when his hand creeped over to my stomach.
I told him, “no, don't. I don't want that”.
He moved his hand away. It became awkward as the song now played and the vibe did not align. He moved his hand over again and this time put it straight down my pants. I held his wrist and said “no, don't.”

He carried on. He had realised I had hair and was touching it...my skin was crawling. I lay there quiet as he touched me, hating it but assuring myself once he had a feel he would stop and we could listen to the music again. But he didn't stop. He seemed to like it and pulled my legs more open as he started to feel more and more of me. It was ok, I assured myself, he will stop soon.
He didn't stop.

Next something else happened I had not expected. He had a look I had never seen before. I determination, a new kind of assurance... He pulled down my pants and his and I seen it. His cock. It was now huge... much bigger than it had been before. He had hair! It was hard and standing on end and he looked at me with a look I hadn't seen in his eyes before. I froze.

He climbed on top of me, put his cock between my legs. He had done this before with his little willy and I would have to lie there as he held me. I didn't like it but any time I tried to stop or avoid it he would always end up getting his own way, I had gotten used to it. This time though I was in panic. I was frozen, I was scared.
Was that thing going to go in me?

He lay on top of me, smothering me, and started to move, he started to push it up and down between my legs as my body became rigid and I could barely breathe. It wasn't inside of me, but for the first time I realised that was the goal. That was what sex was and that was what he wanted to do. Pushing and pushing. I was so tense nothing was getting inside me. My body and it's panic saved me from rape.

Minutes passed, mere moments even passed though they felt like hours and it was over, he stopped, he pulled it out and brought it up and this white stuff came out, flying out, all over me, all over my bed spread and as he was moving away to the bathroom all over the duvet on the mattress bed on the floor.

What was it? It was so gross. I heard him go to the toilet, then wander down stairs.

I lay there. Numb, unable to move. I just lay and breathed until some relief came over me and I pulled up my pants, switched off the radio and went down stairs. We sat on either end of the sofa and said nothing for the rest of the night as we watched the TV with my Mam and sister.

When it came to bed time I said it. “I have changed my mind, I want (my sister) to sleep in my room not him” They all looked at me.
“Na” she said, “I want to sleep in my room”
I didn't have a response, I just looked at her...
“Ok” she said, but I want to sleep on the floor.

I was so relieved, he seemed to be too or maybe he was embarrassed that had I brought something up and asked for the change, I wasn't sure. I didn't care. We all went to bed together instead of at staggered times and all I remember is laying there while she slept.

Lying there thinking, considering, unable to move as the panic crept back in as I laid on the bed it had just happened on, trying to decide if I should say something or not.

So much was going through my mind. All the times it had happened before and how different this time was. All the times I had played with other children, times we had touched each other. Was I bad? Was I wrong? Was this my fault? Was it normal? Did everyone do it? Would I get in trouble? Would he get in trouble? Would everyone know? Would my sister get in trouble? Would my Mam get in trouble? Would she shout at me? Would it stop if I told? My body rigid in fear and panic.
But I knew. Deep down, all of me, my body and my heart, I knew it was wrong. I knew this was the last time I wanted it to happen. I knew I wished it had never happened, wish that I could turn back time and when he asked if he could stay I would say no and not need his attention. I knew I felt sick. I knew I was too afraid to ignore it. I knew I could not let it happen to her as I watched my sister sleep. So in it all, through all the fog of confusion, I decided; I would tell.

It was a risk. I would be told off for being out of my room, I would be told off for waking my Mam. I would be told off for asking if he could come and stay but in those moments I was brave. I knew I couldn't stay quiet even if I did get told off because no one should feel like this and I wouldn't feel this way any more.

I tried to move and it was like moving a dead weight. My body did not agree with my choice to move but inch by inch I peeled her from her lying position, to upright, to fully sitting, to standing, to walking as I forced her to make those steps. It seemed to take an age and all the energy I could muster with each step closer and closer to my mams room, closer and closer to the room he was sleeping in and past as I heard him breathe. I was terrified I would wake him and he would stop me. I was terrified of waking my mother but I had to tell her.

Step by step, breath by breath, this was the bravest act I have ever endured in my life. Even to this day, even after all I have been through and all I have stood up for in my thirty eight years. This girl in these moments is still my hero.

This hero story concludes in disappointment. I got to that door, I opened it, woke my mother and told her what happened. She questioned if I was penetrated. She told me how risky it was, that had I been older I could have gotten pregnant. She told me to go to bed and we would speak in the morning. It was cold, heartless, disappointing.

I went back to my room and listened. I listened as she went down stairs. Sat awake for what felt like hours waiting as she came back up the stairs, went to her room and closed the door.

I heard her get up in the morning and tell him to go home. I heard her call my auntie and tell her to come around, I waited as they talked in the lounge. I was sitting on the stairs when my aunt came out and asked if I was ok.

I said yes and waited to be asked to come and tell them, waited for the awkward questions and interrogation. But instead she looked at me pained, unsure and like a child herself, she said ok and left. 
That wasn't how I felt. I wasn't ok. I felt dead inside and exhausted but no more words could leave my mouth. They stuck in my throat and caused a block I lived with ever since. A block where any words related to these feelings or that experience would get stuck and become distorted into “i'm ok”s, anger and rage or the worst response; deafening silence.

Five minutes later my Mam called me down for breakfast told me “He has gone home.” My sister joined us and we had a Sunday like any other. Except it wasn't like any other. I was never the same.

My worst fears had been realised. I knew I was living amongst liars and actors. I now knew they would not stop this from happening, nor would they ever have. I now knew I was not really safe like they pretended I was.

I wanted to scream, and cry and get angry and hit my mother and tell my sister what happened and run away with her to Nannas and be safe. But I couldn't.
I couldn't move, I couldn't speak, I couldn't say any other words than what went along with the play. I was broken and at that table I had no clue what to do.

So I did what many young abuse victims do, I sucked it up, I went along and I shape shifted into something I thought was expected of me. I rejected that brave, vulnerable and honest girl and became something different. I became quiet, I became compliant but inside I became oh so rebellious, I became strong, aware, I would be independent and fend for myself now I knew the truth and I became very, very angry.

I had disconnected from my soul. After this I started smoking, drinking, I cut off my hair, I started wearing makeup and I rejected my mother completely. I had no respect for her and rightfully so. She was a weak liar and boy did it have an effect on our relationship.

What it also did was set me off into a trauma spin and my unconscious behaviours after this point caused me to get hurt again and again. Repeated rapes, sexual assaults awkward exchange after awkward exchange. I attracted a certain type of man who seemed to see a mile away I could be used and manipulated. I attracted women who seemed to see I was hiding something and because they could never trust what, rejected me as a true friend or ally.

My trauma left me with no real idea of boundaries, only fake ones I thought should be there but weren't really and a vocal block that meant I could not assert them, when I tried all that could come out of me was with aggression. So much of my life became entangled in this event and the events that followed it. To move through my life and cope with the confusion I had to try and deny it all because I knew if I started to dig on anything it all came back to this and I could not talk about this.

I was a child a pre-teen child with no idea about anything and who could never develop beyond this point because an important aspect of myself and my development had been left behind as was trapped in this event, that I ignored.

I had build up such a wall around the idea of family, I had rationalised that some how family must be so important, that it was more important than me and that the play must all mean someting, that ultimately my survival was crucial to be part of it. I tried to go along, play along be a good family member and follow their lead. Be like them. I wasn't like them anymore though and I always felt that way.

Part of my denial as I started on my spiritual healing and part was to try to reconnect with my family. But for me it often felt shallow, fake because I could never talk about what was going on for me more deeply. I could never talk about my abuse, my attempted rape and later my suspected drug rape by this family member all all the connected sexual violence and trauma I endured because of it.
I just thought being nice, putting myself second in an attempt to build connections through fun would somehow make it all better. I stayed connected with them to celebrate and enjoy holiday time. I even photographed his wedding denying myself the whole time and the flash backs I was enduring through the whole affair. I denied any of it mattered because I had denied that part of myself that was brave enough to care and stand up for my truth.

It took me twenty five years to be able to speak my full truth about this event and it's significance in my life. It took reconnecting with that rejected part of me to be brave enough last year to report this repeated offender and the others I had been violated by to the police.
It took me two years of therapy and healing (specifically on this issue) to get to that point of reporting and another two years of therapy and healing to fully integrate the change that had happened in myself and in my life when I welcomed that girl back as part of me and aligning with my new more whole sense of self.

This is shadow work. This was part of my work. I had rejected that girl, that strongest, bravest part of me because she was oppressed, silenced, let down. I thought she was wrong, that she had made a mistake, that she forced us to risk it all and we lost, we were not enough, we were not worth been stood up for, we were not worth protecting, there was no point in being brave and honest and speaking the truth.

Because I have done my work this girl is part of me again and since she is now a part of me as an adult I am the bravest I have ever been. She taught me so much. She taught me to be bold and not expect a reward other than the knowing that I stood up for myself. That I know right from wrong for me and I am not afraid to confront it or be accountable for myself. She knows the value of vulnerability and the beauty of it. She knows that truth and vulnerability and intimacy are all connected and needed in order to be brave and whole and be alive.

Because I have her as part of me now no one can ever hurt me in the same way again, physically, and people can and do try to, but because I can not be hurt spiritually any more than I was then I am unbreakable.

I am still human and weak and flawed as well and I can be harmed of course and I life will always challenge me I am sure but in that event I was destroyed. In the years that followed I was torn to pieces and now I have been able to rebuild myself I may have weaknesses but I have gained so much more than I lost in the end. I gained a deep, dark understanding of so many dynamics that they can't be used against me any more. And in the times ahead I could not be more grateful for that.

I know I am not perfect but this part of me, one of the many parts that I ignored, rejected and down played for so long, does not feel shame any more. I am brave enough to sit with my vulnerability and my flawed humanity. It doesn't matter to me what others think of me, or my truth. It matters what I think of me and what I feel when I share my truth.

My shadow work helped me to get here and heal and when others who have rejected themselves in ways I rejected myself can also pull themselves back together, I think we can make great healing occur. For us as individuals but for humans as we evolve. Evolving past our ignorance, fear and disregarding of truth.

We are living in a reality based on shadow and if I can share my experiences to ring light to this dynamic so we can all see things more clearly I hope I can and be part of the solution to stop the ripple effects of events like these in more children's lives and the impact it has on us, as adults living in this shadow.