Trigger warning: contains themes of sexual violence, mental health problems, suicide
You think at the time if you can survive the event, that will be the end of it.
Then you think that maybe when the wounds heal and the bruises fade. That constant terror will dissipate as well.
Then it's been 3 years and you're laid on the bed in the doctors office, she inserts a speculum and that pain takes you right back to that first truly awful moment.
It happens more often that you like to admit. A sound, a smell, a taste, a touch and all of a sudden you're back in that room. Again. Over again. Like a nightmare groundhog day. Nothing ever changes you just relieve it. You keep reliving it every minute of every day until that feels more real than reality. It's exhausting trying to battle it, to try and gain some power over this demon that has taken control of every aspect of your life.
You're so scared that something will set it off again so you withdraw.
Don't want to let anyone close enough to trigger it. So you spend the days trapped in your body and mind at war. Until you start to feel like it would have been better if you'd died that night, because you haven't lived a moment since, you just survived. Endured. Your life could never go back to normal now. Like you've shredded up from the inside out so now nothing whole remains.
Eventually you become so desperate you start to consider ending it all. But funerals are expensive and you don't want to be a burden on anyone so you save up. Telling yourself that as soon as there is enough in the bank you'll do it, you'll save yourself. The plans are all drawn up in your head the perfect plans but they leave a gap of time of waiting. That you may as well give living a try in the meantime.
So you try therapy, CBT, lucky for you the NHS has that covered. Your therapist is not what you expected, a man, from a conservative religion. He asks if you're okay working with him and all you worry about is shocking him or upsetting him. Never wanting to be the one to taint someone else's innocence like yours was stolen.
Slowly you make little progress and this quiet timid man is training you up ready to face that demon, to tackle it head on. A fight to the death with a memory.
But this time you have a secret weapon. This time you drag the memory up. No surprises. You have control. Like a game of chicken, it's a lot less intimidating when you're running at it head on rather than letting it chase you. It's still disgusting to encounter. An abomination. A crime against all that is pure and good.
As you get closer it starts to get smaller, the harder you run at it the smaller it gets. Until it's no bigger than a cockroach.
To indestructible to die completely, but crawls away skulking to a forgotten undisturbed corner of your mind.
You still find it every now and then. That single lone cockroach. For a second your heart stops. But then you breathe, throw it to the side and carry on. You can't let a cockroach ruin your life. So you stop saving for the funeral. Spending the money on making the most of life. Reconnecting with the world around you. Reconnecting with your body, becoming a new you. You can't go back to before it happened but you can carry on as the new you. The braver and tougher survivor. CBT armed to tackle whatever comes your way. It's not a fairytale ending but it could be an awful lot worse.