My body is mine
“My body has and will always be mine.”
“I had to teach myself this, and had to learn this from believing for such a long time it wasn’t.”
I believed it was taken from me.
I didn’t give him consent.
I was a 6-year-old vulnerable adolescent child, a sister, a daughter, companion, friend and confidant to many people.
I was adventurous, delicate and infatuated with the world. I was beginning the escapade into life, education and friendship. I was destroyed, defenceless and violated.
I was molested. Not once, not twice but so many times it’s become a blur. These images haunted my days, my nights, my dreams and my realities. I was the carefree, delighted young individual with passion that any child deserves to experience.
I felt like shell of my former self, a speck of the brave girl that encountered hell.
I had my self-esteem, my respect and my dignity stripped from me in the most terrifying of situations.
My trust in people was all but destroyed. I even have trouble enjoying a quiet drink with my family or friends without feeling anxious and wary. I constantly looked over my shoulder fearing there is someone who wants to hurt and judge me. I fluctuated from extreme depression and anxiety to extreme fatigue and distress thought my teenage years. My motivation had disappeared and the joy from childhood had fading. My ability to start new friendships diminished for my trust in people is all but gone.
I feel like I tried so hard but was beaten down. I felt weak and vulnerable. I suffered physical and emotional trauma to the entirety of my body.
As I got older and started exploring my sexuality, the weight of what had happened hit me. In a time where I should be discovering myself I was battling an internal battle of denial and disassociation. I would get flashbacks of what had happened when I would have relations with another person. The first time I had sex the association of shame, invasion and numbness was all I felt. I learned to dissociate my brain and my body from the act, because I didn’t want you to take away from me enjoyment in my own body. I coped by refusing to let you stop me from doing normal things. It was a self inflicted pain which I thought was the only way of surviving.
Going to make my statement in the police station and experiencing the witness stand, recounting my evidence was like being invaded all over again. Every wall I had built came crashing down. The justice and legal system from dealing with police, victim support, lawyers or therapists was impeccable. From there kindness, care and support to representing me in court. Even though my attacher was acquitted from all criminal charges, the justice system worked and performed to the best of their ability.
The process of healing, meant turning my world inside out. What was the most intimate parts of me was exposed to everyone around me. It has and will take years to strip back the wounds to rebuild the torture you have put me through. I am beginning to rebuild trust, confidence, self identity, sexuality and control to become the person that you took away. But the real healing is achieved when I started to sincerely believe I am not responsible for what happened to me.
I am a real person that went through torture. I am your sister, your daughter, niece, companion and friend.