A contemplation on the courage of healing.

Trigger Warning for discussions of Sexual Violence and Trauma. 

To access support:

The Bridge (SARC)- 0117 342 6999

Unity Sexual Health Clinic – 0117 342 6900

Rape Crisis –  https://rapecrisis.org.uk

As the Gisèle Pelicot case gained traction over the past few months, she became the face not only of bravery but of hope that the tides of dialogue around sexual assault were changing. Despite this, I found it taking me back to the most traumatic event of my life. As I passed a year since the date, I reflected on how and why this case still manages to have such a profound emotional impact. While there will never be a one-size-fits-all guide to approaching life after sexual assault or rape, I wanted the things I wish I could speak to someone about to be in writing, if not yet in conversation.

Immediately after it happened, my world shut down. I continued at work and uni on autopilot but thought of nothing but him and what I could remember – going over and over the events in my head. It felt inconceivable that day-to-day life carried on. I felt like time should have stopped for everyone. The loneliness I felt in the following months was like nothing I had felt before. My friends and family were extremely supportive, but it had detached me from them all.

There were certain things that I knew were going to be difficult to navigate after the assault. I knew my relationship with sex would change, and that going out again would be hard. Surprisingly, I returned to dating with relative ease and, perhaps naively, I don’t particularly fear walking home in the dark. Instead I found the hardest part to be how my nature changed. I felt unwarranted anger towards everyone and lacked empathy in a way I had never found before. As I look back on the most acute impacts rape had on me, they all feel oddly different to the impacts I pre-empted. Anger, loneliness, indifference and coldness had not been on the cards. My SAR specialist therapist rationalised this for me; she explained that victims (a term it took me nearly a year to say aloud) often suffer from ‘empathy fatigue’, where relating to other peoples’ problems is too emotionally draining to process alongside trauma. If this information had been more readily available, perhaps I would have felt less embarrassed and isolated by these emotions.

Similarly, I found it difficult to react to media involving assault as it forced me to confront my own in a way that was uncomfortable. Everything reminds me of it, from high profile cases such as Pelicot’s to friend’s recounts of uncomfortable situations with men at work. I still find myself angry at Gisèle for being able to do everything I couldn’t, and the grace with which she did it. I’ve had to set boundaries that seem contradictory to the nature of my friendships. For months I had to take a step back from being a confidant for my friends because I was too busy processing my own problems. Healing required burying my head in the sand when it came to cases such as Gisèle’s. This felt selfish and ignorant as a feminist, but post-trauma therapy helped me to realise that her bravery didn’t take anything away from me. The process of healing after assault requires so much internal work before external triggers are even accounted for. I have recognised now that constant reminders set me back and I end up reversing any progress. Once again, my therapist provided a voice of reason: victims of assault are often well aware of the issue of assault, there is no benefit to reopening old wounds because of a perceived moral obligation.

Reporting is clearly an important part of changing conversations around victimisation and allows for more accurate victim rates to be captured. However, this cannot be achieved without adequate and unconditional support for survivors regardless of if they report or not. Steps must be taken on both systemic and individual levels to understand why reporting rates are so low, and the recommendations of survivors must guide future practice. It is important to push for better access to therapy after assault, protection for victims during the legal process and to challenge the stigma around victimhood. Important initiatives include involving victims in charity work to make sure support and resources are victim-led. Recently, ‘Enough’ has provided some excellent examples of this with their involvement of therapists, victims and members of the wider community within discussions and engagement. Encouraging victims to report must be accompanied by appropriate support or else it merely places another layer of unnecessary guilt and shame upon victims already suffering. 

I still wish I had had the bravery to have reported what happened, but I am finally comfortable in my decision. I truly do believe that conversations are beginning to change. It’s so important as survivors to focus on positives – enough negativity has been flung upon us already. I am hopeful that the impacts assault has on all aspects of life are beginning to be recognised, and that this will allow quicker and more productive healing for victims. To anyone who has experienced rape, the one thing I can guarantee is that time will help. A year on and the weight of it has slowly been lightening. My friendships have regrown, my attention is more present, and the triggers have lessened. Although there’s no inch of my life it hasn’t touched, I’ve come to accept how I am now. While, unlike Gisèle, I may not have it in me to change the world, I’m proud of my own slightly quieter bravery.