I’ve been away with work for the past 6 months, I kept saying to myself “I should write my next post and tell everyone how I am doing.” There was always a reason not to. The reality is I am mostly good, I have some bad days, but the good outweighs the bad. Since writing about what I always called my sexual assault I have been on a healing journey, that I have come to realise is not quite over, it may never be.
When I wrote the last post, I felt like I was ready to share. I was ready to shout from the rooftops and let everyone know what had happened. As soon as I hit publish, my stomach dropped. I wanted so badly to take it all back. I burst into tears and every time my phone pinged my body would tense. I kept expecting judgement from my friends, family and strangers. The judgement never came, all I got was understanding. Honestly, I wasn’t sure what to do with it. Judgement and anger I was used to, but understanding, that was a whole new concept when it came to this part of my life. My biggest realisation came from a friend. He asked me who my rapist was. I had always said I was sexually assaulted. Out of the two descriptions that is the safer one to bare. However, after hearing him say it I finally acknowledged that I wasn’t a sexual assault survivor. I was a rape survivor. That just about floored me.
As scared as I was about publishing my last post, it was the best thing that I ever did. The shame around that moment isn’t there any more. I no longer feel guilty about what I did or didn’t do. I still feel angry, hurt and betrayed by him, but even the strength of those feelings are diminishing over time. I don’t think about it for a while and then all of a sudden someone says or does something, or I catch a glimpse of someone from the side and all of a sudden his face is back in the centre of my mind’s eye, like an unpleasant reminder that I haven’t quite finished processing all of the suppressed emotions around that moment. When it does come up, you had better believe that I scream, shout and beat the shit out of a pillow with tears streaming down my face and my throat red-raw. Each time that happens I feel a sense of relief, a sense that I am finally letting all those emotions have their say.
The reason I am so grateful I found the strength to hit publish is because I had so many women and men contact me, to tell me their story. To say it happened to me too. It happened to my wife and now I understand it a little better. To tell me how they wish they were brave enough to tell their own story. I never feel brave, I never have. I write this blog as a way for me to release the past and help me heal, but if my being “brave” enough to share my story helps even one person then I feel blessed.
The last job that I was on was not always easy. It was fun, but it was hard. We had some incredible highs and did some amazing things. We also had some incredible lows and as a collective, we went to some dark places. I am so grateful to every member of the cast and crew, we became a family and we made something really special. After spending five months in Wellington working, I have nothing left to give either emotionally or physically. I am exhausted in a way that I never thought possible. I have made a detour to Gisborne on my way home. As I write this all I can hear are birds, waves and the wind whistling through the trees. I have decided that I need to reset and process everything that has happened and everything that I am feeling. I am OK, I’m a little sad, I’m tired, I’m grateful like I say I am mainly exhausted. I made a promise that I would allow myself to feel both the “good” and “bad” feelings. If I can’t keep a promise to myself then I am in trouble. I am going to unplug from the world for a few days to surf, read, write, sleep and concentrate on how I’m feeling.
PS Did I mention that I am now a resident of New Zealand. After all the uncertainty, my visa came through in November. I couldn’t have been happier. Every time I remember I have a big smile on my face. Dreams really can come true.
Honestly Esther 