I sat on the floor of my shower trying to catch my breath.
I sat on the floor of my shower trying to wash away the handprints that he left.
Because it happened to #metoo.
I know what it’s like to break down in the middle of class.
I know what it’s like to hear his name and have a panic attack.
It happened to #metoo.
I’m haunted by the night terrors that wake me up in fear.
I’m haunted by the flashbacks that make me scream through the tears.
It happened to #metoo.
I can’t shake the memories and I still flinch whenever a boy comes near.
I can’t shake the sound of his voice that is constantly pounding in my ears.
It happened to #metoo.
I remember how it feels to have your soul stolen from you.
I remember how it feels to have no one understand what you’ve been through.
It happened to #metoo.
My sense of worth vanished and my body was no longer my own.
My voice was silenced and my screams fell quiet, when he refused to obey my Nos.
It happened to #metoo.
I avoid certain places and skip specific songs,
I create a list of what ifs, trying to identify where I went wrong.
It happened to #metoo.
I experienced the pain that came when no one believed my truth.
I experienced the pain that came when I was treated as a criminal instead of the abused.
It happened to #metoo.
Despite all of the hurt, despite the shame.
Despite all of the fear, despite the pain.
I have learned that no man is strong enough to break me.
I have learned that in God there is freedom and there is healing.
You were wrong when you called me unworthy.
You were wrong when you thought this would define me.
I am the author of my own story and you are merely a feature on a page.
I am the author of my own story and that is something you weren’t powerful enough to change.
You see, I am a fighter who conquered the villain in you.
You see, I am a fighter because I survived even though it happened to #metoo.
If you have kept up with my blogs then you can recall “Hope for Eternity” where I shared my testimony of suicide to salvation, but what you don’t know is how I got to the point of even contemplating taking my own life. Well, I guess I could call this blog the prelude to my testimony.
At the age of 15 I was sexually assaulted and it took six months for me to tell my parents about the incident. I am not going to tell you about the pain and psychological tolls that the assault had on me because at the end of the day no one can fully comprehend this type of trauma until it happens to them. The purpose of this blog isn’t to receive sympathy for my pain, but to tell you about the glory that God has revealed in my brokenness and to declare the healing that is made possible in His grace. If God could heal a man of leprosy, then I know that He will heal my scars, and if He can heal me, then I am confident that He will bring healing to you as well.
