When I was fifteen years old, I was sexually assaulted and then later raped by a twenty-one-year-old man I’d met at work experience. To begin with, I didn’t fully recognise the severity of what had happened to me. I knew things had gone too far, and boundaries had been crossed, but when I shared my experience with friends, I was greeted with statements like “I hadn’t said no,” “I was drunk and had probably asked for it,” and how even if something had happened I hadn’t really wanted I’d kept hanging out with him “so what did I expect.” Everything was my fault as I’d “given mixed messages.”
Regardless, I’d struggled with feeling violated. My self-harming exacerbated and eventually, not knowing how else to process what was going on in my head, I told a councillor at school what had occurred. It was the first time that someone said to me that despite what actions I may have taken, the assault could never be my fault. I was under the age of consent, and he’d taken advantage of me. And whilst I very much wanted to believe her and I understood the legal parameters of what had happened, in the court of public opinion things weren’t so clear cut. It did not help that he only received a caution for what had happened. Without a ‘real’ punishment, my credibility as a victim seemed to slip.
It is often a surprise to those who know what happened to me, that I ended up working for the Probation Service. I was always interest in criminal psychology even as a young child, but I think what drew me to this profession was a morbid sense of curiosity about why what happened to me did, alongside a drive to ensure that I could either work with people to change the behaviours that cause harm, or work with other agencies to keep the most dangerous perpetrators in prison.
My job, alongside plenty of therapy over the decades, has given me a unique opportunity to reflect on my own vulnerabilities as a teenager, how factors within my childhood (mental health, bullying etc) made me an easier target for him. It’s allowed me to make sense of my responses, allowing me to absolve myself of blame. It’s also given my insight into his behaviours, highlighting elements of grooming, of how he overcame resistance with alcohol, waiting until I was asleep, enabling me to see his behaviour as more predatory than I did as a teen. Working with men who convict sexual offences, has also given me an understanding of perpetrators own vulnerabilities, how issues around toxic masculinity and entitlement increase the likelihood of men engaging in harmful behaviours towards women.
Bringing this altogether, I’ve written a book called Believe Me (for readers aged 14+). It is a story based on what happened to me and what I have survived. Writing has helped me make sense of my own narrative. The feedback has thus far been positive, readers advising me that it’s helped them be kinder to themselves, assisted them in making sense of their own experiences and has facilitated conversations with teens and young adults in their life around this topic, to try and stop the cycle of harm.
I hope my survivor story shows there is a way of channelling your own traumatic experiences into something positive.
