SAAM Blog Week 3 Uplifting Survivor Voices: “Grief of the 81%” Written by Hannah Preston, MPH

Grief of the 81 percent

Written by Hannah Preston, MPH

TW: Suicidal Ideation, Sexual violence, Eating disorders

While I could share the graphic details of how I became part of that statistic, I’m going to focus on something arguably worse: the grief that follows from that day forward. After a sexual assault, there is so much to grieve, and this grief comes in stages. It feels different and changes over time. The grief feels like a thick layer of grime on your skin. It feels like shame, sadness, hopelessness, but regardless of how hard you scrub, cry, mourn, or yell, it never truly goes away.

This might sound odd to someone who has never experienced such a heinous act. Of course, the act itself is horrifying, but what makes the aftermath so difficult? The grief that you feel is all-consuming. It shows up in the body in unexpected ways. The pain is not confined to just that one day; it lingers every day afterward.

Grief for the past, present, and future

I grieve the person I was before my first sexual assault. I carry the grief of losing my sense of power. I grieve how easily it was for someone to take a part of me, to steal my power from me entirely.

I grieve what I wish I could have told my 19-year-old self after it first happened, to reassure her that it wasn’t her fault. I grieve for my 21-year-old self, wishing I could say to her that she should be allowed to go out with friends without the worry of being taken advantage of.

I grieve that I now have to look over my shoulder while walking down the street, and I hold my breath if I am alone in an elevator with a man. Before, I didn’t have to learn breathing exercises to help with panic attacks. Before, I didn’t see my abusers in every man I drove by on the road. Before, I wasn’t scared. I grieve the phone call I made to my dad when I had to let him know that I walk to a coffee shop every morning, just in case one day I don’t show up, so there would be someone who would know to look for me. I grieve the look on others’ faces when I tell them what happened to me. I grieve the adults and institutions that wrote off what happened to me. I grieve being part of the statistic. I hate that I am part of the 81 percent. Even more so, I hate that the statistic is 81 percent. I wish we all didn’t have this in common, and that more stories were far and few between.

Grief in the Body

Grief never shows up in the way you expect. You can go through all the therapy in the world, and then, unexpectedly, on a wonderful day, you find yourself right back to that attack. After my sexual assault, grief manifested in many ways—not just emotionally but physically as well. The trauma I experienced resulted in a PTSD diagnosis, as well as anxiety and depressive symptoms.

Grief after my encounters made me a shell of who I was. Looking back, I was so deeply depressed. I was in the middle of not wanting to be here, but not wanting to die either. Some days, the highlight and lowlight of my day would be getting out of bed to simply brush my teeth and change my clothes, because that’s all I would do in a day. I would spend the remainder of the day in bed.

Grief also affected my relationship with food. I went through cycles of eating, not eating, overeating, and then repeating these patterns. I would go through similar phases with alcohol, not drinking, social drinking, drinking every night, and repeat. I felt constantly on edge. In the beginning, whenever I went out in public, I would shake and tremble, continually scanning the room for the person who hurt me. For the first three years, I experienced vivid night terrors, which weren’t always about my assault. Sometimes, I would dream about a loved one dying in front of me, someone I couldn’t save, or about a natural disaster—each dream sharing a common theme: powerlessness.

This all caused me to do poorly in school. I was initially afraid to tell my program that I had just gotten into my dream graduate program, in my dream field. The trauma caused me to almost fail out of school, and I was placed on academic probation, which caused even more grief and shame. I had just gotten my dream program, and I felt so much shame to have let someone else cause trauma that resulted in my poor academic performance.

Managing Grief

It has been five years since my first sexual assault and two years since my second. There is no one-size-fits-all answer to managing grief, but I can tell you that today, I am the healthiest I have ever been. I didn’t think living a life like this, filled with hopefulness, healthy relationships, and a true sense of self, was possible after my sexual assaults. I didn’t get to the place I am today easily.

The first step was acknowledging that it happened. I didn’t want to believe it; it was too painful. But once I accepted the pain, I opened a door to process and heal. It was one of the hardest choices, but it was worth it. The journey to healing is complicated and emotionally taxing. But I promise you it is so worth it. A considerable part of this step is identifying your support system. You cannot do this work alone, and you shouldn’t have to. Find your safe places, your support systems who can help pick you up on the days that you want to waste away, people who can help you through your journey. I found my people through close friends, an incredible therapist, and trauma advocates at my university.

The second step was learning how to reset my nervous system. After such an event, you will be under constant stress, which causes your nervous system to be on high alert.  Learning to regulate and reset your nervous system is crucial. I do this now through simple things like coloring before bed, and having a routine when I feel panic attacks coming on.

The other saving grace was therapy. I do not think I would be here today without my therapist. I was able to have a safe, neutral space to process what had happened to me. I did and continue to do various kinds of therapy. I do talk therapy, the most common kind of therapy, paired with EMDR and Brain Spotting. These types of therapy are not for everyone. But for me, I found EMDR and Brain spotting to be a way to process my most profound trauma in a way that no longer has me bawling on the floor in a panic attack. It completely dissolved my most jarring triggers around my trauma.

Grief is complicated, grief is unforgiving. Healing from trauma is challenging and complex. But know you are not alone in your journey.