WARNING: What I am about to say may be triggering for those who have been victims of sexual abuse/assault, BUT I hope freedom can find those who have been victims of this.

You never think it will happen to you until it happens. You never think it will be with someone you trust. Someone you know. You expect it to be at a party, drinking too much, and with a random stranger. But then it happens with someone you trust… you are out drinking at a brewery and you go back to his place. He was drinking a little too much and he starts getting too handsy. You tell him to stop but he doesn’t stop. He keeps going because he wants it. You don’t want it, but he does and that’s all that matters. You push him away, but he doesn’t care. He unbuttons your jeans and completely rips them off while you’re saying no but he tries to be sentimental saying “you’re okay, it’s me”. But it wasn’t sentimental. He was drunk and took something from you that wasn’t his to take.

That was me. That was me with someone I trusted.

I never thought it would happen. I never thought he would do that. For a good few weeks after this happened, I wanted to die. I wanted to never have to deal with it again. I never wanted to talk about it or tell anyone. I felt shame, I felt like I lost a part of myself, I felt violated.

Seven years ago, I was molested as a freshman in high school by a boy I was dating. It took me six years to tell anyone that because I buried it so deep and I blocked it out as much as I could. Once I finally told someone about it, I felt like I was able to breathe. I was able to be open and live with the fact that I was molested. But I never thought I would ever have to say that I was raped in college by a man (I mean boy) that I trusted.

For those weeks following what happened that night, a part of me felt the shame of what happened to me when I was 14 return. But this time it was different. It was worse. I knew I needed to bring it into the light because ultimately, I knew I would not be okay if I kept that deep shame and violation in the dark. But I also didn’t know how to bring it into the open. I knew I had friends who would listen and love me through it and hold me when I cried but I didn’t know if I had the courage or the words to talk about it.

I was in the car with some friends and the song Praying by Kesha was on. (If you are unaware, that song is an anthem to the #metoo movement. It was written from Kesha’s own experiences with sexual assault). After it began to play, I knew I needed to get it out. I knew it was time. The reactions from my friends where what was expected, anger and sadness but also love towards me. From there I told a few other friends that night and it got easier the second time I talked about it. That night was filled with so many emotions. From anger, to sadness, to wanting to disappear. I was everywhere but nowhere all at once. I was forced to make sense of God’s love in the fires of hell. I knew I needed to keep talking about it, but I also knew it wouldn’t be easy. That’s the thing when hard emotions come into the light, it’s easier to keep them in, to keep them at bay, to not talk about it. It gets hard when it gets talked about. There comes hard emotions, there comes a fear of being looked at differently, there comes a fear of being labeled as a victim. But ultimately, that is when healing comes. That is when you can move forward.

According to RAINN (Rape, Abuse, and Incest National Network), “every 92 seconds another American is sexually assaulted, 1 out of every 6 women have been sexually abused in her lifetime, 9/10 victims are women, 1/10 victims are male, and 55% of victims report being abused at or near their home.” I absolutely HATE these statistics. They are disgusting and vile. The number of women who I personally know who have been raped or sexually abused is much higher than it should be, and it makes me sick. It makes me heartbroken. I am a high school and club soccer coach and it absolutely breaks my heart thinking about how some of my girls will be or have been sexually abused by someone.

We as humans are living stories. Life demands explanation, and the more intense the experience, the stronger the demand. “Why me?” has probably been on the lips of every victim, including me. We are meaning-makers, we long to interpret life. BUT it’s not our raw experiences that determine our lives but the meaning we make of them.

Share your story, tell someone.

Someone needs to hear you.

It matters, you matter.

You are enough, you will NEVER not be enough.

Right here, right now.

This is where you will stop labeling yourself as a victim.

This is where you will be labeled as a daughter or son.

This is where redemption begins.

This is where your story will be rewritten.