The Power of Perspective
Perspective is defined as a particular attitude toward something or a point of view. A statistic is defined as a fact or piece of data. At eight years old I became a statistic. One out of nine girls are victims of sexual abuse or assault, according to RAINN.org. RAINN reports that every sixty-eight seconds an American is sexually assaulted, and every nine minutes that victim is a child. At eight years old I was sexually assaulted. I spent years dealing with the trauma as any person should. I was confused, I struggled, and I was in pain that I couldn’t comprehend. As I grew up, I accepted the statistics and learned my perspective is power. This power is my voice against rape culture, supporting people who have been abused, and the power of being a survivor, not a victim. That power is mine and no one can take it away.
As a little girl, I had all the conversations that needed to be had between parent and child. I knew right from wrong, yet when this happened I still chose to stay silent. I didn’t say anything for a year. I remember thinking it would break my mother’s heart and maybe even put my parents in danger. I took on the responsibility of protecting my parents as any traumatized
eight-year-old would, or so I thought. It wasn’t until there was an attempted kidnapping during school that prompted me to say it out loud to some friends.
We were nine years old. Tanner, Noe, Melissa, and I were walking the track for P.E. discussing the scary incident of a girl at school getting away from a man who tried to kidnap her as she walked to school. Our teacher had made the announcement before we went outside and went over what we should do if we ever found ourselves in this situation. We were all scared and concerned about what this girl may be feeling and how she did the right thing by telling him to leave her alone and running away. In the middle of the conversation, I began recounting how I got up and left the room after a man had gotten into my bed. What I was trying to do is explain that I too know what to do when something inappropriate happens. The group became quiet. “Oh no, what have I done,” I thought. I fell into a panic and felt them all feel the confusion I felt. I walked ahead with Noe. Melissa and Tanner walked behind. As Noe and I completely disregarded what I had just said I could overhear Tanner and Melissa talk. “Do you think she was serious?” “We need to say something if it is.” My stomach was in knots, but I have felt this knot before. The knot is the feeling of knowing everything is wrong yet I am still alive and breathing. I’m somehow using my feet but I can’t feel the floor. It doesn’t feel like I’m in my body and my whole core feels detached. I don’t remember much about the next day but Melissa’s words remain imprinted in my head. It was a morning break, and I was by the steps that take you to the field and play area away from the tables for eating. “I am going to tell the office what happened to you because YOU are not safe,” Melissa told me. I told her that I was planning on telling my parents later on. “If you tell the office, I will NEVER be your friend again,” I pleaded. “You can hate me and not be my friend but I have to because you’re my friend,” she said. I am twenty-seven now, and Melissa is still my best friend. She did the right thing.
At a young age, I began therapy and while I am grateful for all the help I received, my perspective got in the way of my healing. The perspective of myself was that I was unworthy in all aspects. I sought out ways to validate this point of view of myself and believed I would never be the girl I should be. I felt that there was a war in my head. A monster. One voice trying to keep me alive and the other listing reasons why I shouldn’t. Therapy wasn’t enough and
medication made me feel worse. At sixteen I spoke up again. This time I spoke about what I felt to a cousin. She heard me and let me know that I was not alone. She told me about her friend who began to change the word “victim” to “survivor.” When I first heard these words they did not settle in the happy ending kind of way. There was no epiphany. Only me invalidating my experience again. “I’m not a survivor because I’m barely a victim,” I thought. I did not take all the internal mental battles I have had because of this trauma into consideration, and I had not thought of any others who have been in my shoes, let alone those who may find themselves in my shoes in the future. In this moment, perspective overcame me. I am surviving these battles, and I want others to too.
After realizing my perspective had changed, everything slowly changed as well. Suddenly seeing a therapist wasn’t a chore to dread. I was ready to switch therapists. I was able to recognize that I had restraint in my voice and wanted to speak to someone who provided a space where my voice was free. Throughout my meetings, my relationship with myself strengthened. When I had bouts of depression I was able to hold onto perspective and remember that I had made it through the last bout and I could do it again. The frustration I had once felt toward my parents when they were trying their best to keep me out of my room, sad, and alone turned into gratitude and empathy. My parents had never done this before. They couldn’t protect me from myself, but they were trying everything they could. I learned grace. After learning to give grace to my parents, I began giving grace to myself and others.
The crazy life we live in is full of different individuals living in their own lives in their points of view. While evil and hate exist, I am only responsible for how I choose to walk in life. I am not perfect. I get lost in my emotions, reactions, and narrative. I am only human. When I am lost I think back to all these defining moments in life and I am reminded of how powerful my perspective is. This perspective is of gratitude for all I have gone through to make me who I am today. I think about how my life could have been different if I never said anything, if Melissa never said anything, if my parents never found out, if I had held onto this silently. Would I be who I am today? Would I use my voice against victim blaming? Would I even feel like I had a voice?
I am twenty-seven now and the work is not done. I rely on every tool I have gathered throughout my life to handle all the burdens in life. The work will never be done and I don’t want it to ever be done. I want to spend my life learning and evolving. I want to use my knowledge to help others. The process of healing is personal, and my perspective is to acknowledge the healing to be had instead of focusing on the pain endured. It is important to remember that because I am human, my perspective can evolve. It may feel messy and lonely at times but the beauty of being human is that we are never alone. Although I am a statistic, my voice matters because these statistics bring awareness to sexual abuse survivors. That eight year old girl’s voice matters. Every voice matters. My experience inspires me to help others which encourages my post-traumatic growth in recognizing my strength and my gratitude for life. Life is full of rewards if you are looking for them.
Author Statement: Dear reader, You hold the power within. Although life is not easy, you are capable of more than you may be giving yourself credit for. –Rosie