Hello you!
‘When a person experiences trauma, it’s like someone snuck into the garden and ripped out all the plants she had been cultivating with such care and attention. There is rage. There is grief for the garden it was. And there is fear it will never grow back. But it will grow back. That’s what gardens do.’
- Emily Nagasaki, Come As You Are.
One sharp word, the touch of an unfamiliar hand or the feeling of being cornered can trigger it. You’re right back where you once were except you’re not. Do you flight, fight or freeze? Or do you fawn?
Feelings so dark and cold you don’t want to be anywhere near them begin to stir. You don’t want to remember. You don’t want to be reminded. You’ve seen how they can turn before; so quickly, so effortlessly leaving your head in a spin. Your body and brain’s job now is to protect you from any more damage being done, anyone else hurting you again and your inner police sirens are just waiting to go off. Run they wail. Run!
Starting to date and meet new people is scary enough. The fear of rejection, of being seen coupled with the desire and hope of meeting someone who might one day love and accept us for who we are creates a cocktail of vulnerability. Dating with sexual trauma in tow adds additional challenges. We don’t lose our desire to be loved but we gain fear and confusion around what healthy relationships are. There is rewiring to be done. This is where I found myself a year or so ago.
Meeting people romantically in real life is very difficult for me. I’ve only recently become aware of the don’t talk to me vibe I give off, with my head down and shoulders hunched at the first sense of the male gaze. For years I’ve intuitively behaved in a way that doesn’t get me noticed by men. Our bodies remember past experiences and mine knows that getting noticed is how I got hurt. Our body’s memory is designed to protect us and understandably, mine never wants that to happen again. Slowly I’ve been working on this. I walk with my head up now and I make eye contact, sometimes I’ll even smile, but it’s taken a lot of practice and the minute there’s an advance beyond my comfort zone I feel so overwhelmed I want to run away.
If approached on the street, in the park or sitting in a cafe, I feel uncomfortable. I feel hunted. I feel frozen and want them to go away. I like the compliment of being noticed of course. Who doesn’t want to feel like they’re attractive - but I don’t like feeling powerless. My personal response to initial threats like these is to fawn. It’s as if I have to please them, smile and pay them attention. I don’t have time or space to think rationally. I shut down. Once I feel level my flight response kicks in and only then am I able to leave, usually very quickly. It’s confusing and it’s awful.
This shutting down is common for those with trauma. We dissociate. It happens to keep us safe but can often leave us feeling dead inside for a while. We keep our distance, we leave before we’re rejected out of assumption or to retain our power. It can be argued such distancing keeps us safe from harm but it also gives little chance for connection. There has to be emotional risk for connection to happen, there has to be vulnerability. When we’re in a state of fear it’s really hard to be vulnerable.
How do we learn to trust? How do we build confidence? We have to walk into the unknown and try. We have to go where there is none.
Awareness is always the first step towards change and more than half the battle. This looks like knowing our patterns, spotting them early so we can break them and learning to implement boundaries - but it’s hard work. It’s exhausting.
How can we truly connect without vulnerability? I don’t think we can. Without vulnerability we’re all dancing around at the masquerade ball, covering our true selves trying to look as glamorous and seductive as possible. But this isn’t real life. This isn’t really us. None of this is real.
The mask we wear is to protect us, to keep us safe. It can feel easier to pretend instead of take the emotional risk required to make a genuine connection. If we don’t get too emotionally involved we can’t get too hurt. An avoidant approach like this is the veil between our wanting and our fear of what we want. I see this approach romanticised a lot, glamorised even but having tried it myself I can confirm these masks really need to come off because they don’t keep us safe, they keep us stuck and they keep us lonely. But how to know when and where to take our masks off and for how long? This is the art of connection building and this has to happen from a place of healing. I’m still healing but I don’t think this means I can’t date or meet someone new and I don’t think the same is true for you either.
When I first started dating it was the walk back to my car that was particularly triggering even though throughout the date I’d felt relaxed. I’ve never found dating particularly nerve-racking but I think that’s because I’d put up enough imaginary walls beforehand to keep myself safe. I’d sit and listen to these guys, try them on and see if I could envisage them in my life with my friends and family, never taking any of it too seriously. I’d look at them and notice if my body found them attractive - but there was something about the walk back to the car. Here I felt vulnerable, worried about what might happen, about being alone with them and I was reminded of being alone with strange guys before, about what happened that time. With practice this has stopped now, but there are still times when I feel it. I don’t always know whether to listen to my body or reassure it. What I’m saying is this is hard and if you’re having similar feelings or experiences they’re valid. When we’re dating with sexual trauma we’re wired with a different radar. We want to be the carefree cool girl but it’s not so easy when you have alarms sounding off inside you and for good reason.
If you step out into any kind of day to day life with sexual trauma I think you deserve a medal. Having our bodies violated changes us. The world is never the same again. What happened to us can never be undone or taken away. There will always be a before and an after. To trust another takes even more strength, more vulnerability, emotional risk and uncertainty. When this isn’t matched it’s devastating but I’ve found there are those who simply, even though they might care, cannot handle it, who cannot sit with us in our pain. I often wonder how these people would deal with such an event happening to them. This is of course another concern that bubbles beneath our surface. It’s the shame we feel, even though it isn’t our shame to carry, and the fear that this person we’re opening ourselves up to will not accept us as we truly are, scars and all.
Should you find yourself in a similar situation, I’ve found the best approach is to go slow but make sure you go. Do not let your past rob you of your future. Your desire is nothing to feel ashamed of and you deserve the relationship you crave. We all do. Just because you’ve experienced sexual trauma doesn’t mean you’re made of glass. You’re allowed to want what you want and want it fiercely. There will be bumps in your road that do not appear in the road of others but there is strength in your survival this far. Building strong connections takes time which means there’s no need to rush. It’s also a universal truth that we cannot hide who we really are and everyone’s mask slips eventually. Discover new people one layer at a time and give yourself to them at the same pace.
Our vulnerability is precious. Yes it is how we connect with another but it should not be shared lightly and should be done so in levels, brick by brick as trust is built. Vulnerability should be earned, slowly as a connection solidifies. I flip from one to the other. Sometimes I want to scream out loud what happened to me for anyone to hear, to help me. Other times I cannot imagine ever speaking a word. I lock down and protect it at all costs for fear of not being understood or worse being rejected for it.
If you’d like to share your story I’d love to hear it, but mostly I wanted to write this for anyone feeling the same so you know you’re not alone. Married, single, widowed or divorced. It’s hard. I see you. I hear you. And I’m with you.
Lots of love
Jessica xxx
I think your vulnerability and willingness to be seen is your super power. I was sexually abused as a child and it messed me up in innumerable ways. Not the least of which was my ability to set boundaries and determine for myself what was acceptable behavior and what wasn't. I'm 62 and I have never revealed the identity of this family member to anyone other than one friend. Not even my husband knows. I don't want to give it any more of my time or energy. What would it serve? I wouldn't be believed and would be ostracized for daring to besmirch his reputation. So, I've learned to let it go and get on with my life.
Thank you for sharing so openly! I have had plenty of unwanted attention and felt I had to "be nice" and go along with what he wanted scared of what would happen if I didn't (more scared of the ridicule and dropped like a hot potato than any violence.) There is too much subconscious messaging that women can't stop and ask for more time, connection, honesty, etc. before going down the sexual road. Now I can do that. It only took until I was 54 to figure this out. Your sharing and the other comments is what helps us see the patterns and decide to stand up for ourselves!