Trump, in a tweet, said that if the alleged sexual assault on Ford was “as bad as she says,” then “charges would have been immediately filed.”
Ok Donald. Now you done pissed me off.
I didn’t report because when I told my best friend (I was 12) she didn’t believe me. I felt like no one would believe me after that. He was very popular. Everyone knew him. Everyone loved him. His home was the local hangout spot. I was terrified of his family. If my best friend didn’t even believe me, then no one would believe me. So, I shut up about it. It was less painful for me to block it out and pretend it never happened, than to accept the reality that I was raped, violently, by a family friend. Then came the guilt, the shame, the self-loathing and self-doubt. That’s the thing about trauma. There are so many levels to it. There’s so much fear and pain and the only way I knew how to survive it was to convince myself it never happened. Besides, no one would believe me anyways.
Fast forward 11 years and the nightmares started. I would re-live it at least weekly. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep. I went to therapy. I found the courage to call and report him, but unfortunately the statute of limitations is 10 years in Michigan.
Fast forward another 10 years and I’m still in therapy. I still have nightmares. I still live in constant fear. I’ve had 3 EMDR sessions which have helped tremendously. But my anxiety and depression are too much for me and I need medication.
Fast forward 6 years and it happens again, in my own home. This time, I reported it. There was no way in hell I was going to let this happen to another girl, like it had back in Michigan. But there wasn’t enough physical evidence. So, there’s that. I’m angry. I’m on edge. I’m afraid. And worst of all, I wasn’t believed.