Helpline
written by: Lynn
My thoughts were racing and I couldn’t focus on any kind of work. His questions rang in my head.
Why didn’t you leave? Why didn’t you resist? Why didn’t you do anything? I find it hard to believe you had no part to play in this. I find it strange that you don’t want to call the police or talk to someone about this, it’s like you don’t want your story corroborated. It all sounds very suspicious, especially since you hid this from me for so long.
I felt so confused, anguished. His words stabbed at me. How could someone supposedly dear to me say such things? It was all very confusing and painful.
I started crying. I felt like I was losing control, my emotions were spiralling. And then my phone rang. It was them. I had made a call over the weekend, but they were closed. I had called because I felt pushed to my wits end by his questioning, all of which I had not been able to provide answers that ‘made sense.’ I had called because I felt pressured by him. I had called because I simply didn’t know what else to do.
I looked at the phone and deliberated. Did I want to pick up? What would that mean? Was I ready? But I was desperate, vulnerable.
I picked up the phone. “Hello,” I whispered.
“Hello, is this Joey?”
“Yes.”
“Joey, my name is Mary and I’m calling from AWARE, the Association of Women for Action and Research. We received a request for a call back. Is it a convenient time to speak?”
“Yes.” I could hear my voice cracking.
“Thank you Joey. Is there something I can help you with today? Something you wanted to talk about? We’re here to support you.”
My throat constricted. “Yes, I want to talk about something that happened to me some time back. I think…I think I was assaulted.”
I told her everything. I told her about the incident, how I had said no, what happened after, and all the questions I was being asked by my partner since finally deciding to open up to him about it.
Why didn’t you leave the room? Why did you continue lying there? Why were you aroused? Why did you kiss him back?
I told her how utterly confused I was feeling, how I didn’t know the answers to a lot of the things I was being asked, how I felt like I was going crazy. Tears streamed down my face as I spoke.
“Joey, first of all, you mentioned that you were drunk. Legally, this means that you were incapable of giving consent. And in this case you said no. What happened to you was non-consensual, and it’s not your fault.”
I listened as the tears continued to flow.
She continued, “I also want to explain that a lot of the responses you’re feeling confused about, that your partner is asking you about, are physiological. When intoxicated, we’re in a further relaxed state, so you were not in full control of your body. You were responding to what was being done to you without your consent. Let me give you an analogy to help you understand. Have you been tickled?”
“Yes,” I responded.
“Even if you don’t want to be ticked and you don’t like being tickled, when someone tickles you, you still laugh don’t you? And that’s an example of how our bodies respond to sensory stimulation, including sex.”
“So you’re saying that when I responded, I was merely reacting to sensory stimulation? That a lot of it is physiological?”
“Yes Joey.”
“But then why does he keep questioning me and saying these things to me? He keeps saying that because I didn’t leave the room, because I responded physically, a part of me wanted it. He thinks I had a part to play, that it wasn’t entirely assault. I’m feeling so confused.” I was sobbing quite hysterically now.
“It’s very normal for survivors to feel confused and blame themselves, but it’s not your fault Joey. It’s physiological, and during the incident victims can experience what is called habitual or survival reactions, which are automatic. Your partner doesn’t understand your experience, and he’s not capable of understanding that something bad happened to you even though you were in a relationship. He’s also not seeing what it means for you to open up about this, how brave you’re being.”
When I responded with more crying, she emphasized, “Whatever you could have done that night to protect yourself, you already tried to do. And whatever you couldn’t do, you weren’t able to. You were drunk, tired. And you were with a friend Joey, someone you thought you could trust.”
I sobbed more, her words slowly sinking in.
“Are you still in contact with your partner?” Mary asked.
“He thinks I cheated on him and wants some time to process all this.” I felt the pain of this keenly as well, adding on to the existing mix of confusion, guilt and shame.
Mary continued, “I want you to remember that what happened to you was not your fault. I asked if you’re still in contact with your partner because he clearly doesn’t understand your experience and he’s only seeing things from his perspective. If he’s still questioning and accusing you, I would suggest you block him to protect your own well-being.”
This was not something that I had considered. Prior to this I had tried so hard to answer all his questions, to not only recount my experience, but to explain and justify every moment, even if I myself hadn’t yet fully processed or understood the whole thing. How do I explain the experience of being assaulted? How do I explain why I didn’t do more in the moment? How do I explain to someone who will never understand what it was like being in my shoes?
He had been my rock for years, but the call was giving me a new perspective. The questioning, the doubts he had planted into my head about my own experience, was it a more sinister kind of victim blaming? Why was he making this all about him?
The call lasted about an hour, with Mary’s continued patience, assurances, and support. “Thank you Mary. Thank you. This has been really helpful.”
“You’re most welcome Joey. If you ever need anything, just give us a call. We’re here to support you.”
“Thank you,” I said and teared up again, but this time for a different reason. I felt like a huge weight had been lifted off my chest. I had been so afraid of opening up to a stranger, afraid of being judged, stigmatised. But what I had received instead was a level of support I never imagined possible.
After the call, I sat for a while, trying to process what had just happened. I clung to Mary’s words, her assurances, and tried to commit them to memory. I repeated them to myself in my head. What happened to me was not my fault, a lot of it was physiological, beyond my conscious control. I did everything I could. He’s not capable of understanding, he’s only seeing things from his perspective. I tried to draw on her words for strength, to fight the incriminating voices in my head, his incriminating voice.
I realised that my partner was not someone who could understand me, support me, or care for me. Disturbingly, it was all about him, instead of what had been taken away from me without my consent. I had somehow become a victim of victim blaming, and now understood how insidious it could be. The sheer amount of confusion, chaos and guilt it could plant into someone’s mind about the validity of their experience, when all they needed was support.
People often think that sexual assault looks a certain way. People think there should be screaming, kicking, biting, some kind of resistance. But reality is different.
I felt overwhelmed, having just recounted a difficult ordeal, but I also felt more assured and supported. There were clearly others out there who had been through similar, difficult experiences. Now I just had to do what was best for my well-being. It would not be an easy thing to do, but I was thankful for Mary’s words.
While I had somewhat been pushed to reach out for help, I had found strength in a helpline. This call saved my soul, and I would remember this moment forever.
