CW: This essay discusses sexual abuse and trauma . For survivor support, contact RAINN for confidential online and phone support, https://www.rainn.org/get-help.
By Kit Rempala
One of the most beautiful and terrifying things about trauma is its relativity. It changes from person to person. My therapist says trauma is a defense mechanism – it shields us from the exiled emotions which well up to the surface every time our minds touch upon the permanent bruise which houses memory of the initiator. She says defense mechanisms are not our weakness; they are powerful tools that indicate just how strong we are in the face of adversity. She says although the initiators and their actions are not a part of us, the defense mechanisms – the traumas – are a part of us. And no part of us is bad, or defines us.
But what do we do when cases of trauma are not so clear-cut?
I should have known. I should have listened to my friends. I should have listened to my instincts. I believe in the core, primal, animalistic intelligence preserved in the human condition – the one that, when it prompts us to “Run!” is usually correct. I’m a smart woman. I am college-educated, I come from a well-adjusted upbringing in an upper-middle-class home, and I very rarely question my own judgments. And then there are other times…
I met “D” when I was nineteen. I had scarcely dated, and so I jumped at the opportunity for another’s attention, to feel desirable and wanted. He seemed like a nice enough guy: polite and witty. But even on our first date my neighbor’s dog growled at him as we walked to his car. I shrank away from his hulking form in the passenger’s seat, and again during the movie, and again on the way home. When I kissed him goodnight my apprehension was eclipsed by his powerfulness, the way he pulled me so tightly to him and pressed his lips so hard against mine. It made me feel small in a way I never had being 5’11” tall. My body shook, but not with the butterflies from a new connection. Continue Reading…