Never Shut Up About It

Trigger Warning: sexual abuse 

She came along much like Mariah Carey predicted, 23 years and 7 months into my song. I had written one big cathartic post about my years of sexual abuse for the first time in February. That Tuesday, the day it was published, the hero within me stretched, yawned, and finally began her work.

You’re late, I told her, but I’m glad you’re here.

She was very late. From the day he introduced his genitals to my  mouth and said “this is our little secret,” I’d been conditioned to suffer silently. I taught myself to keep my qualms with life stacked neatly in a corner, and to be, in all things, very, very, quiet.

I spent five years actively as his victim, and fifteen years as my own.

I didn’t want to do anyone a  disservice by disclosing my sorrows. I couldn’t touch anyone with my story for fear of getting my shame everywhere.  So, I didn’t speak out. I kept everything in my prison, in my mental solitary confinement.

On the surface was the fear of shame and inconvenience. Just below that, was the more overpowering  fear of becoming somebody’s hero. Worse than bearing the mark of the victim was bearing the emblem of survival. I was nobody’s poster child. I was not a bloodless billboard for sexual abuse survivors. I refused to be be reduced to and defined by  my circumstances. “Roconia, the survivor” had a (w)ring to it. It fit nicely–right around my neck.

But, that Tuesday in February, she showed up. My inner hero awakened, rolled out her map, and took me to school.

“You are here,” she said, indicating the dot marked Hero. “Let’s review where you’ve been,” she said.

She pointed to a place called Victim.

“Victim- a person harmed, a person injured, a person silenced.” She dragged her pointer along the map to a spot between Victim and Hero. “Survivor- a person who copes, a person who begins the process of overcoming.” She slid her finger back to Hero.

“But now you are here,” she said. “Hero- once a person harmed, now a person healing. Once a person silenced by fear, now a person idealized for her courage.  You have no choice in the matter. You are not headed here. You are not reaching for here. You are here. At Hero. So it’s time you start acting like it.”

I still cringe when I mention the abuse. When I slip it into an introduction at an event (I’ve only done that once) or I fold it into a paragraph I’ve written. Even now I wonder if I’ve typed this story into the ground. Have people had enough of hearing about it?

My discomfort and uncertainty let me know that I have a pulse, that I’m a human, that I haven’t become a two-dimensional billboard for surviving sexual abuse. I have not surrendered my life to the cause.

Here, at Hero, we can have both. We can dedicate time to saving ourselves and others. We don’t have to worry about our trials– or the process of overcoming them– taking over our lives. We can talk about it. In fact, we never shut up about it. We perpetuate progress and spread healing like wildfire. Victim is the story. Survivor tells the story. Hero, through healing herself, helps with the healing of others.

I have a responsibility. I refuse to risk the chance of saving someone.  I refuse to underestimate the way the God of my universe works. Because, maybe, with one click, a woman who needs to hear my words can begin her healing. Because there’s always that possibility that someone will stumble upon my blog, read a certain post, have a “me too” moment, and realize that it’s okay.

So, when I worry, when I notice I’ve cringed three times that week because of words like molest and abuse, I’ll remember my responsibility. I’ll remember where I am, here, at Hero. And I’ll keep taking about it, keep typing about it, keep tweeting about it.

Im Roconia. I’ve been sexually abused. I did my bid as a victim. I put in my time as a survivor. I will never shut up about it. I hope to help in your healing.