Awareness Wednesday: An End to the Silence and Shame.

i was scrolling through facebook yesterday evening when i came across a post by a friend from high school that caught my eye.
it was a link to a blog post with the caption:
"April is sexual assault awareness month."

upon reading this, my heart began to pound, and i started getting that sickening feeling that so often bubbles up in my stomach when i am faced with such a topic.

i clicked on the link (http://djmegz.blogspot.com/2016/04/i-will-not.html) before i knew what i was doing, and read the story about this sweet friend's experience with sexual assault. she was only 10 years old when she was violated in ways that no person should ever have to experience, much less a 10 year old girl.

being kayla, i googled 'sexual assault awareness moth.' after about five minutes of research i tried to put away my computer and pretend i hadn't just experienced the last 15 minutes of my life.
but sometimes that nagging in the back of your head leaves you so unsettled you have no choice but to do what it tells you.
thus the reason i am actually blogging for the first time in like two years.

for those of you who do not know, let me be blunt.

i was sexually abused as a child.

i spent the first four or so years of my life trying to understand what was happening and wrestling with whether this was a normal occurrence or not. how was i supposed to know if this was something everyone experienced? i was four, and it was all i knew.
but then one day i snapped. i refused to go back to the house where it was happening. needless to say, my mum was confused. not that i'm good with words now, but as a 4 year old who definitely should not be processing such things, i was really bad at expressing myself.
eventually, mum understood and action was attempted. 
from there we moved to the southern part of carolina and i went through three(ish) years of intense art therapy and counseling. then one day i was fine. i didn't need the art; i didn't want the art. it was over. the storm had passed.
the counselors agreed that it might be true for the moment, but warned my mum that this would probably bubble back up in my teenage years.

and it did.

i didn't realize it at the time, but there was a specific night in high school that everything came back.  mum was out of town with air force things, which left me and two of my good friends at the house by ourselves. the events of that night are beautifully unfolded by Nathallie (https://tangleseverywhere.wordpress.com/2015/04/20/ask-jesus-christ/).
long story short, that night brought back a lot of things i hadn't considered in a long time.
and shortly after, he had a heart attack.
this forced me to analyse the situation even more.
i eventually decided to forgive him, which i laid out in a pardon, The Pardon ( http://dancinginthewakeofthestorm.blogspot.com/2012/05/the-pardon.html).
at this point i was feeling better. i figured i was done with the "dealing with it" process and i was good to go.

but then i went away to college.
i spent my freshman year trying to figure out how i was supposed to ever come to terms with what had happened. how was i ever expected to act 'normal' in any kind of relationship, especially a romantic relationship. could men be trusted? what if i got involved and all of the memories flooded back?
i had another breaking point. i went back to the town where it happened to watch my best friend graduate from high school. he asked if i was going to come visit him while i was in town. as i sat in a park with my aunt and her two boys struggling with how i was going to tell him no, i decided that my answer was indeed no. it was time i stood up to him without standing behind my mum or anybody else.
so i just stopped talking to them.
and that's it.

until six months later when i realised how ridiculous and inconsiderate i was being. i had ignored message upon message from her (his wife) and it was wearing on me. 
so i wrote a letter, The Letter. The Letter that called out what i had been dealing with for 20 years. The Letter that explained why i had been unresponsive and would continue to be unresponsive until something changed.

the end.
right?

not really.
i still think about the events and my decisions probably on a daily basis.
it's part of what molded me into who i am.
but i am NOT a sexual abuse victim.
I am Kayla.
I am first and foremost a child of the one true King.
I am a(n aspiring) geophysicist.
I am...a lot of things,
but I refuse to be defined by things another person did to me.

i wouldn't change what happened to me, even if i somehow figured out how to backwards time travel without destroying the space time continuum or creating all kinds of paradoxes.
the way i see it:
if my story helps just one person cope with something they have gone through...
if one person doesn't feel alone through their struggle...
if only one single person finds the courage to stand up and speak out...
...then it was all worth it.


i don't ask for pity.
i don't ask to be treated different.
i simply ask that if someone you are close to is going through something similar that you stand with them to the best of your ability. 

April is both National Child Abuse Prevention Month and Sexual Assault Awareness and Prevention Month.
We shouldn't be quiet about the things that continue to hurt us day after day because we are afraid of what others will think of us.

let's make comfortable healing spaces for those around us who are carrying unspeakable things in their heads and hearts.

let's be aware of the silent storms raging all around us.

let's love each other so unconditionally that the multitude of sins against us are covered (1 Peter 4:8). 

let's put an end to the silence and shame.