I Can’t Listen to People’s Trauma Stories Anymore
But I can help in other ways
I was raped by a stranger while taking a walk on the beach over thirty years ago. I was in my mid-twenties. I was married and had a fifteen-month-old daughter when it happened. It blew up my life. For years.
I let the rape define me for a long time. I thought people could tell as soon as they saw me, even met me for the first time. I thought everyone read it on my face. I’d cut to the chase and tell them soon after getting to know them.
I’ve experienced a myriad of reactions. Some have been completely unkind. Thoughtless. Some of them women. It turns out some women want to believe it’s your fault so they can believe it will never happen to them.
Once I realized that, I didn’t let women who had that response bother me. Most women were gentle and validating. And, those women usually had a story to tell me in kind.
That’s what started to bother me. Too many women told me about their own trauma. Epidemic proportions. I shared my story with countless women over the years, many more women than men, and at least one out of two shared their own story with me. Some women had never told anyone and I was the first. Some had only told their husband. And me.
