Camilla's World

When you criticize Taylor Swift being a silence breaker on the cover of Time magazine, you are minimizing my sexual assault.

It's sick that the trauma I experienced from my assault was more from dealing with the aftermath than the actual assault itself. A classmate (who I had issues with) walked up to me and grabbed my breast and then patted it a few times before saying "just wanted to see if your sweatshirt was as soft as it looked" and then walked off. In that moment I was frozen. I had always imagined that if something ever happened to me, I would make a scene. I would yell. I would draw attention. But I sat frozen in shock. I was in a full classroom but no one seemed to have noticed. I finally said something to a friend and she nervously chuckled (she would later tell me I was overreacting and that it wasn't assault). As I sat in class my anger grew. I went home that evening and felt sick and so upset. The next day I reported what happened to my program directors. They proceeded to tell me that they would set up a meeting between the two of us and I could tell him what he did was wrong. They wanted me to face him - and they would just sit back and not do anything. I was furious. And so upset. They were going to let him just get away with it. So I went to the police. When taking down my statement, one policeman was so outraged about what had happened and how my program directors had reacted that he became visibly angry with his face turning red. He turned to my father who came with me as moral support and said "I have a daughter. I can't imagine how angry you are right now". They asked me if I wanted to press charges, and I did - although I knew nothing would come of it. They asked if anyone could backup my story. I told them about the friend I had told.

When I walked into class the next day, I was shaking and terrified. The police were there and told me they had spoken to my friend and that she said nothing happened and that I never told her anything. They told me the guy denied it. They told me they would follow up with me. They never did.

I walked back into the classroom with all eyes on me. My group of friends stared at me with disgust. They proceeded to ask me why I would go to the police. They told me it wasn't assault or harassment. They told me I was overreacting. They told me that at least I wasn't raped. They laughed at me. And then they went silent. And never spoke one word to me ever again. Few people did. I sat in that classroom with tears streaming down my face. I tried to catch them all with my sleeve to hide my pain so I wouldn't seem weak. And I just heard the words in my head repeat "this is why women don't report it. This is why".

In the years that followed, I didn't realize how much that experience affected me beyond the obvious. I still knew what happened to me was assault and wrong. But I found myself being silent about it. Or if I spoke saying "well it's not that bad" or "I shouldn't speak since I was only assaulted and not raped". The words that were said to me, became my reality.

I remember when I heard about what happened to Taylor. I felt sick for her. I knew how violating that felt. And then when I heard about her having to go to court, I felt even worse for her. The questions she and her family were subjected to were disgusting. They way so many in the media and on social media said she was overreacting to being groped, brought it all back to me. But Taylor stayed poised. And took it to them while on the stand.

When Taylor won her countersuit, I cried. Because for the first time, my assault had been legitimized. For once I had something over the people who told me that I was overreacting and that "it wasn't like you were raped or anything". The people who abandoned me. The people who left me crying in a classroom thinking in my head "this is why people don't report sexual assault and rape".

Taylor has always meant so much to me. But this was more. Because of her, I felt like I was legitimate. That I had been correct. That I had done the right thing. She made me feel vindicated and free.

When I woke up this morning to the news of the Time Person Of The Year being the silence breakers, I had chills. Finally women are being believed. And when I saw Taylor on the cover and read her article, I cried again but I also smiled because this was progress.

I then made the mistake of going on twitter and seeing the backlash. And I felt sick and heartbroken. And downright angry. Yes there are others who deserved to be on the cover, but this isn't about who's story is better or who is more famous or anything. This is about our stories and the awful things that have happened to us. I saw Taylor criticized for her words, when those same people were shaming her last week for not tweeting about #MeToo. I saw people attacking Taylor for every reason, as if something you don't like about her is a reason to not understand or believe her story. And worst of all, I saw people saying that she wasn't assaulted. That she was just groped and needed to get over it. And then all those feelings came back. Because you see, these people may think they are criticizing Taylor but they are also attacking people like me.

You don't get to pick and choose which victims you believe because of which celebrities you like. You don't get to pick and choose which victims you believe because some assaults are more severe than others. And you don't get to criticize a person who is bravely sharing their story and then praise others. That's not how it works. Things only start to change when we all stand together.

I’m writing this because I need to get it off my chest and because I’m hurt.  It’s going to be vague, and that’s on purpose.  No need to cause drama or name names – this is to help me move on, not to cause issues.  I’m also going to try to steer away from blaming anyone for multiple reasons. One because blaming people, doesn’t fix the issue.  Two, because I’m not perfect and blaming others would cover up any mistakes I may have made.  And Three, because blaming just causes drama, and again this isn’t about that.  I just have things I need to express.

 Anyone who dreams of this kind of path in life has a set of dreams and goals.  One of them is something that is special to achieve and receive.  Many never achieve it, some achieve it often.  But it’s never easy or a given to get.  Ever since I was little, and knew what it was, it was a dream of mine. Something I wanted so bad. Something tangible, a proof of sorts, of what you could accomplish.  Something that no one can take away from you, or so I thought.

 I helped accomplish it, some good time ago now.  I put in the time and work.  I logged the time.  I did lots of the behind the scenes that helped achieve it.  I stared at my computer until my eyes dried out, because I wanted that goal.  I remember when the first part happened, and the relief and the happiness and the pride. And then I remember when the rest of it happened, being so proud.  The tangible proof part didn’t come, but we did it and that was good enough.

 Time passed, new goals set, things changed in so many different ways.  But it was my goal to do everything I could to earn the tangible part one day.  

 More time passed, and things weren’t working.  They were crumbling.  I was fighting like hell.  I could go into it more, but it’s private and isn’t what this is about.

 Even more time has passed, I’ve been depressed and devastated.  But I’ve also been okay and dusting myself off.  Trying to rise, so to speak.  Some days are better than most.  But I’m strong.  I’ve been through things bigger than this.  And this is just a part of life.

 But then, the tangible proof arrived.  What I dreamed of.  What I worked for.  But I don’t get it, because of the aftermath.  I’m happy for them, I know how much they deserve it.  But I’m devastated.  I’ve cried and cried.  Probably harder than when it all fell apart.  I’ll be okay, I’ll dust myself off again.  This will only renew my motivation to get it one day.  But it’s damn painful right now.

Today I found myself in an interesting situation and I've spent the rest of the day evaluating my own reaction and feelings. Today in a group conversation Lamar Odom and his situation was brought up for the second time this week. During the discussion some jokes were made and there was a fair amount of laughing. I found myself overcome with anger just as I did the last time. Now I want to clarify that I love and think very highly of the other people in the conversation and I know that they did not mean one single ounce of harm. They are good people. So again why was I filled with such anger? I've stewed on this quite a bit today.

I'm not an addict...technically. I don't abuse prescription medication, I don't do drugs, I don't drink heavily. I'm not any of the so called typical things that make up an addict. But I know myself. I've been through the mental health ringer and I know more about my personality then a lot of people do. And the truth is that I have an addictive personality.  I've tried to make what I'm "addicted" to as more positive things then negative but I can't sit here and say I haven't been negatively addicted to anything. I was addicted to hurting myself - I don't do it anymore but I've experienced relapse and triggers.  My vices aren't drugs or alcohol but I know they easily could be. I never experimented with drugs and I never plan too - I don't think I could trust myself to stop. I have strict rules about my consumption of alcohol: I don't get drunk and I don't let myself drink if I'm upset or would be using it to cope. Because then I know I would.  I've set up many securities to try to prevent myself from ever going down that road that I know I could easily slip down.