The Aftermath of Stealing Consent

Do you remember being afraid of the dark as a child? Watching a horror movie, you knew you shouldn't have? That sickening, paralyzing rush of fear gripping your entire body?

Each time I believe I have control over the one piece of me that has yet to completely heal, a wrecking ball comes crashing in, laughing as it creates its path of destruction. 

Last night, I stayed up late into the morning hours, reluctant to fall asleep no matter how heavy my eyelids became. 

The past week has been emotionally triggering. In ways, I have no control over. Some have made me proud of the way I handled the situation. Last night was not one of those proud moments. 

After a relaxing afternoon of fawning over our new nephew, the three of us assumed our positions in the living room to watch our favorite Thursday night show, Greys Anatomy. 

The black-and-white "Viewer Discretion Warning" flashed across our television. As the storyline began to twist and intermingle, what happened next was something I was not prepared for.

I sat frozen, as an unstoppable flood of tears quietly streamed down my cheeks. The commercial break was perfectly timed, as I quickly made my way to the bathroom and threw up.

My seventeen-year-old daughter sat pressed against the locked door, asking me to let her in. She continued to sit there waiting until I exited several minutes later. 

With tears in her eyes, she wrapped her arms around me. Then my husband wrapped his arms around both of us.

The scene that prompted this guttural response: the character Abby agreeing to have a rape kit performed. Seeing the bruises on her stomach and legs was a familiar sight. Hearing her say no one would believe her, that the rape was her fault, was too understandable. Watching this woman find the courage to do the one thing I wish my fifteen-year-old self had done was heartbreaking. 

Through support, compassion, and understanding, she found the courage to seek her justice. Not once did any character doubt what she had endured or dare to blame her.

In a society where Hollywood continues to gloss over and glamorize sexual assault, throwing in gratuitous rape scenes for the sake of shock and awe, Grey's Anatomy was a perfect example of how a rape victim should be respected and treated. It was also a graphic, yet accurate, depiction of the shame, guilt, fear, and physical and emotional turmoil a rape victim experiences immediately after a sexual assault.

The aftermath of rape that the show cannot highlight is the terror that comes in the night. The involuntary reenactment of the moment that changed you, stealing a part of you over again. Waking you, leaving you paralyzed, as your tears soak your pillow. The emotion of anger is elicited when experiencing unexpected pain. 

Though PTSD is routinely linked with soldiers, victims of trauma are often left with a parting gift once the trauma ends.

The morning I read a quote I know well, "F-E-A-R has two meanings...Forget Everything And Run or Face Everything And Rise. The choice is yours." The word in that entire phrase, which stood out to me today was, "choice." No matter the circumstances of rape, there is always one common thread, choice...consent...the lack of it. Sexual assault will find ways to continue to steal long after the assault is over, today I chose not to allow that to happen. I remind myself baby steps are still steps.