Shannon’s Road to Surviving Rape and Medical needs

Written by my dear friend Shannon:

This is likely the most difficult thing I’ve ever had to do. A while ago, I was traveling to see a friend and to meet with dancers and parents, working on growing my small business. I had my savings, and was recovering from orthopedic surgery, trying to focus on growing my small costume company into something that would continue to support me while I recovered.

It was a successful trip, professionally, but personally, devastating and completely life altering. I was raped.

That is something I shared with very few and is something I wished to keep under wraps for the rest of my life. Recently, though, it has become more and more apparent that I am unable to shoulder this alone. I have so feared anyone else knowing this or looking at me differently, like a victim.

I had a difficult time after it happened and wasn’t sure what had happened for more than a day. When I did seek help, a kind SANE nurse cared for me with as much grace and gentleness as can be afforded during a six hour ER visit and carnally invasive rape exam. There was significant tearing, external and internal bruising. I took every antibiotic, required HIV antivirals (which would make me ill for the next month), and opted for every vaccination. Two days later, their head of nursing contacted me to come back to be examined further. The cervical damage was worse than is typical. I bled off and on for a month.

Things I didn’t and couldn’t understand before I was raped are things like how difficult it is to even face what has happened or to seek help. It is a feat to try, but it gets worse when faced with the system. Nothing is easy about managing or navigating all of the continued care, follow up, and testing. Even with the help of the resourced that ARE great, so many aspects of the puzzle are prohibitive, not readily apparent or logical, and providers are overwhelmed and difficult to hold accountable when you’re already defeated and depressed.

When I returned home, I was able to start counseling. My counselor has literally kept me alive. I could not have imagined before how I would feel when I began to remember what happened, and worse, how I would feel as my thoughts literally became an endless, repeating track of the worst ten minutes of my life. No matter what I try to do, it is always there.

I have trouble completing tasks, focusing, remembering, and even driving without getting lost. Despite dedicating this time to try and be well and recover, despite having a wonderful trauma counselor, I am still so broken. I am not accustomed to facing any challenge that I am unable to navigate or conquer by sheer willpower, creativity, or resourcefulness. I’ve depended on my tireless work ethic to get me through struggles in life, and until now, it hasn’t failed me. Before someone else took control of my body and took away my ability to consent or protest, I felt I could influence any outcome by sheer determination and with my faith and trust in God to keep me strong.

Trauma takes more time than I want to give it. It’s taken more energy and resources than I had, and I’m overdrawn on everything. I’ve spent my savings, including my reserves to back what would have been the expansion of my little business. As if suicidal thoughts aren’t prevalent enough when I’m obsessing over the same ten minutes that changed me and destroyed part of my life and who I was, when I add finances? It seems like I cannot afford my own privacy any longer. It is literally a luxury I can no longer afford. The lifetime cost per rape victim is a staggering $122,461.

I had all these irons in the fire, people who owe me money but haven’t responded, clients in arrears, and I’ve borrowed money from two family members that I need to pay back. I’ve spent thousands of dollars since my rape on living expenses and rape expenses, and I owe many thousands to the hospital for the rape exam, tests, vaccines, meds — especially the HIV antivirals. I will continue to fight to get the victim’s assistance in the state where it happen, despite not having enough of a case to successfully go after my attacker. (As we are all so painfully aware right now, this comes down to a he said/ she said. It is not a simple situation.)

Currently, in terms of physical recovery from surgery, I am still not able to stand or drive for long periods of time or walk significant distances. I’ve made progress, but not enough to diligently jog into life, even if I had not been assaulted.

I’ve learned through counseling and seeking help that I have pronounced PTSD. No matter how much I wish I could change my own thoughts or eliminate flashbacks, fears, guilt, and shame, it doesn’t work that way. I shake so much that I’ve had a difficult time painting and sewing, things I’ve tried to do for therapy as well as what would usually create sufficient income. When I stand to attempt to go anywhere outside of, not just my house, but my bedroom, my legs nearly fail me. When I shower, I have to sit. In the shower, I think about showering after the attack. When I make, or attempt to make myself food, my legs and arms tremor rhythmically. Sometimes I sit down and prepare food. I’ve figured out why this makes me think of the attacker too. But I can’t fix it.

I’ve gone grocery shopping and had trouble, the worst being going to Home Depot twice and nearly passing out, literally. I had extreme trouble going to the funeral of one of my oldest friends. I forced myself to go on a date, and I blacked out during it. I walked in and asked if I could sit down... I was holding myself up on a counter. I am trying, but the trauma is so much stronger than I am. I am afraid of most men and don’t trust environments.

What’s hardest is that I didn’t want anyone to know, especially my dad or my uncles. Part of my trauma is very much the result of telling the male friend I was visiting, whose friend raped me, and having him respond with disgust and disregard. I’ve dreaded telling another male and facing anything like that again.

I just want to be able to live a joyful life again. I’m too scared to go to church, to be around that many people, especially men. I do not trust my own judgment. I’ve accepted that I have to be an advocate for myself, accept help, and admit that this happened so that people can help me. Because I want healing.

I’m an expert at defending and building up other people, but I’ve never been excellent at being an advocate for myself. In this situation, however, I have made the decision to ask for help so that I can have a respite and seek more aggressive treatment without further mental exhausting myself worrying about the bills as well as what’s turned my finances grim. I want my life back. I look forward to the day when I can help another survivor, and that gives me hope. Right now, I want to choose life, and continue therapy and treatment for PTSD. I want to be myself again, to not be afraid to be around new people, and to feel comfortable outside of the four walls of my bedroom.