TW: Sexual Assault
I remember quite vividly the first day I went to my sexual assault survivors' support group. The feeling of walking in was much like the first day at a new job; I was painfully conscious of my discomfort and every other bodily sensation, noticing details in the carpeting and smells in the hallway. Everything felt significant. I wonder if this is common when the brain knows it’s entering a new and specifically important setting, senses are on high alert and the moment feels grandiose, as if nothing else exists outside of it.
As soon as I walked in, I sat in one of the first large, leather swivel chairs in the conference room. I didn’t want to spend too much time shuffling around and calculating the “right” place to sit, although I arrived fifteen minutes early so I could do just that. I was given a tour of the building a few weeks before, something the facilitators do to lessen the amount of anxiety group members feel entering the space. In the moment I was grateful I didn’t have to find the room on my own. I was the second girl to arrive, the first was sitting at the end of the table when I walked in. She had short blonde hair and a leather jacket on, reminding me of a biker chick, aside from her obvious subdued, timid nature. She looked up and gave me a kind smile, then went back to playing with her fingers. As more women started to trickle in, we would say a polite hello then avoid any further eye contact until the room was full. The first day was the worst day; none of us wanted to be there because we all doubted that it would help. Running the risk of seeking relief from trauma and failing is a terrifying reality, and sexual trauma has a way of shaming the optimism out of you.
The facilitators were well trained and prepared, arriving with protocols and structures meant to ensure the meetings from then on out are conducted in a safe way. We all knew at least one of the facilitators before the start of the group which made it easier for us to put our stories in their hands. Both of the facilitators were sexual assault survivors as well, making them feel like equals instead of spectators of our pain. Trauma work is inherently triggering, an unavoidable aspect of healing. However, rules and guidelines for how and when to speak, as well as clear instructions on what to do in the case of overwhelm or dissociation, makes the trigger less likely to further traumatize and the very likelihood of being triggered lesser. In some ways it’s like a mental vaccination; instead of letting the trigger enter your body without consent, you create a completely sterile and controlled environment where trauma can be felt with feelings of safety and belonging remaining intact.
No one prepares you for these situations, I don’t think anyone can. It’s terrifying to enter a room full of eight strangers you know nothing about other than the fact they have endured the same life altering experience that you have. It’s incredibly uncomfortable while simultaneously very comforting; you know the bravery it takes to enter such a vulnerable space because you, yourself, have made the same choice. You lack trust in the fact they are strangers who you feel no connection to, while simultaneously knowing that you will, inevitably, reach a point of complete understanding with each other. The pain and withdrawal experienced by a trauma survivor is ultimately what makes us capable of extraordinary empathy.
You might think that a support group for trauma would focus on the specific traumatic sexual encounters we had experienced, but that was not the case. We each got the opportunity to discuss the specifics of our trauma, in full, one time during the year together. When our time came, we got to speak for as long as we needed to and share as much as we wanted to. Every member had the option to leave the room if triggered, which they would, and one of the two facilitators would follow for support. This procedure enabled us to share our specific experiences as well as practice setting boundaries by separating ourselves from situations that were overwhelming. After each woman shared, we would all offer comfort, warmth, and understanding. In most circumstances in life, sharing your trauma has a high chance of being met with ignorance, invasive questioning, assumptions, and/ or disinterest, all of which can retrigger and make you feel even more alone. Sharing in this space was truly a unique and crucial opportunity to be completely vulnerable, feel every word of our memories, and have the weight of them fully understood by the group.
Although we were each given the opportunity to share our experience with assault, a majority of discussion was focused on our weekly lives. We would detail our struggles at work, setting boundaries with bosses, stressful family situations, custody battles with abusive exes, and the nuances of dating post-sexual trauma. By discussing our lives as they progressed, we were able to identify patterns of thought and behavior we had developed subconsciously to cope with our trauma. Dissociation is common with sexual assault and makes it so you feel numb when recalling the specific event. The feelings of trauma and overwhelm we were unable to feel in the moment of assault come out repetitively after the fact in weird, seemingly unrelated ways. By speaking with each other about our lives as they progressed, we were able to identify patterns in the ways we were all triggered and work together to find ways to honor and work through the triggers. In some ways, it felt like we had one mind in that room, and together we were bigger than all of the violence we had endured combined.
The power of a group of women, touched in different horrific ways by sexual violence, coming together for the sole purpose of understanding and loving each other, is insurmountable. Tears rush down my face as I recall this experience, but because of this experience, the tears are a joyous and proud release. The pain has become safe to feel anywhere because my trauma is no longer associated with shame, guilt, self doubt, secrecy, or loss. It is now colored with the bravery I showed entering a room of strangers, the work we did over a year, and the triumph of leaving each other as sisters. My trauma represents strength, and every time I am triggered I am joined by the women who cultivated healing and support. I will never be swallowed by my trauma because I have the power of their love on my side.