As noted earlier in Part 1 of this post, I didn’t notice the physical side effects from the attack until much later. Due to my body tensing during the altercation, the muscles along the right side of my spine didn’t relax and go back to their normal state. (This was a side effect of my MS.) Instead they stayed contracted resulting in back pain I had never experienced before. We were right at the beginning of Covid and seeing a doctor at the time was almost impossible unless you actually had Covid. Even then it was challenging. It became difficult to walk. This was during the time when you had to stand in line at 4 am to buy groceries. My ex’s addiction had made him non-existent in the household and I was left to do all the shopping, cleaning, and taking care of our son. This was the usual, but with the back pain being at the level that it was, it made it even more of a nightmare.

Another result from the attack was not being able to tolerate the touch of anyone, including that of my son. It completely wrecked me. He would run up to hug me and my body would tense. I could not live like this. I refused to. I began researching ways to heal the physical pain. I knew if I could get that under control I would be able to at least try and heal the emotional aspect of it. (I could give a master class in the art of self-healing.) Intuition led me down the right path again. I was able to get to a place where the pain was significantly reduced by combining specific intrinsic exercises and loads of lidocaine patches. I started to run again. It was painful, but I could do it.

The physical pain was much easier to deal with than the psychological. Physical touch was difficult for me post-assault, but being around men became unbearable. I always felt uncomfortable with unwanted attention. However, I had never had a problem being around men that were normal, respectful dudes, minding their own damn business. Any time I would be around a man, my body would tense, my back pain would begin, and my MS symptoms would flare up. These symptoms presented themselves as loss of feeling in my right side, trouble with speech, and cognitive behaviors. Fucking grand.

The day after my attack I went back to the scene of the crime. This was an attempt to prove to myself that I was “fine”. (In my opinion, that should be deemed a curse word.) I was not fine. I was anything, but fine. It wasn’t until the end of 2020 that I was able to connect with my therapist. Because we were right in the middle of Covid we had our sessions via zoom. I felt guilty telling her that my son’s touch made me want to run out of the room. She listened carefully, and patiently, not saying a word. When I finished describing this new hell I was living, she said, “Ok here is what we are going to do.” (Normally this exercise is performed in person pressing up against someone else’s hands. This was zoom-life so the wall was going to have to do.) “Place both of your hands against the wall, close your eyes, visualize your attacker, and then push against the wall. When you are done, we will discuss what you see.”

I turned to the wall and did exactly as she instructed. My attacker popped into my head quickly. There we were, together again, except I was in control now. I pushed as she had asked, and to my surprise, he fell down. I was able to stand over him and visualize any scenario I wanted. (Did I kill him in my mind? You betcha! #notsorry) Tears streamed down my face and I began to laugh. In addition, when I pressed against the wall there was an audible pop in my back. I felt more of the back pain release from the last bit I was experiencing. My body had physically stored the trauma. (This was before I was intentionally practicing Reiki.) What the hell in all-that-is-magical just happened?

My eyes were still closed so I did not see the look of confusion on my therapist’s face. “Are you ok Andrea?” “YES!” I replied. When I told her what had happened she smiled. “We do these kind of things when people go through trauma, specifically ones where there is sexual assault or abuse. Most of the time people have to do this over and over again to get whomever they are visualizing to fall. You did it on your first time. Of course you did!” she laughed happily. (My therapist has had a front seat to my shit show. She’s witnessed, first hand, my Mamba Mentality approach to life’s tribulations. She’s familiar with the obstacles I’ve overcome. This is why her response was what it was.) There was a noticeable upward swing in my energy. I told her about the pop in my back and how my back pain was all, but gone. She was fascinated. We both agreed to speak with my doctor about it.

I would love to sit here and type that things went back to normal for me after this, sadly they did not. While I was much better, and could embrace my son again, I was still not fully comfortable around men, especially on runs. PTSD is real and pops up in the most inconvenient of ways. Today, it popped up in a way that was completely unexpected.

When I left our property this morning, I saw a man walking down the same route I take. I didn’t think ANYTHING of it. I was more concerned with passing him out of competitiveness, not fear. When we got to the top of Hadley St. I stretched and began to make my way back down. When we got near the street I turned to go home, he caught up with me and kept going straight. I giggled to myself. The only reason he was able to catch up was because we were going downhill. (I can’t feel my right leg, which makes running a huge deal. Lapping people is just icing on the cake.) He was minding his business and I mine. When I reached the gate to our property, I placed the key in the lock and to my surprise, began to hyperventilate. When I got through the gate, I couldn’t stop the tears that were blurring my vision.

“What the fuck is this?” I wondered. It is not unusual for me to cry during a run, but this time was not like the others. Then it hit me. That man had run up behind me and triggered me, placing my brain directly back in the moment of my attack. I collapsed as I reached the back porch and was thankful one of our dogs was having his morning nap outside. He seemed to sense that something was wrong and lent his body for support. As I cried he leaned into me and licked my face. Somehow he knew exactly what I needed in that moment.  Where would we be without our animals?

It took several minutes for the episode to pass. When it finally did, I went inside trying to make sense of what had just taken place. Part of me was embarrassed. It had been so long since I felt any kind of intense fear. In the last few minutes before I came inside, my grandmother had arrived and opened the back door to greet me. She saw the state I was in and worry took over her face. It is one thing for my family to know what I have been through; it is another to catch a glimpse of the aftermath. I hate to make my grandmother worry so I assured her I was fine. “Estoy bien Ma” I told her. Of course she knew I was not ok, but she respected my not wanting to talk about whatever was bothering me.

Even when those closest to you have knowledge of the traumas you’ve experienced, they cannot relate to you unless they have gone through an event that is similar. This is not their fault. They are just unaware. Rejoice in the fact that they can’t relate to you. Would you really want them to? No. Take the time to express how and why you are feeling the way you are. It is only when we get comfortable in the uncomfortable that we make leaps in the healing process and have true sovereignty over our emotions.

For those of you that say things such as, “Women enjoy the attention”, “She should have known better ”, “What did she expect? Men will be men”, “It’s not like she was actually raped”, and all other forms of bullshit; you are tone deaf, dense, and ignorant. What a fucking moronic mindset. You make me cringe. I pray you never have a sister, mother, aunt, cousin, friend, wife, or daughter that has to go through the mental mind fuck this unleashes on one’s psyche. It is not the victim’s responsibility to make sure their attacker behaves. The least people can do is stand in solidarity with victims, not shame them. (Karma never loses an address. Remember that.)

Today I am more comfortable around men, but not back to 100%. I have no clue if I will ever feel totally at ease again. All I can do is work with intention toward my healing, share my story, and advocate for victims of sexual assault. I hope this can inspire someone else to share their story. We are not defined by what happens to us, we are defined by our reaction to it.

***If you, or anyone you know, have been a victim of sexual assault you can find help at: www.rainn.org/resources.

You are not alone. XOXO