#MeToo

I’ve had a heavy heart and misty eyes all week long reading the hundreds of stories on my own newsfeed alone of the #metoo experiences. I admire the bravery of those sharing their stories and their resolve to no longer stay silent.

But as I read, I kept trying to suppress my own urge to speak up and speak out. Speak out against the kind of assault and emotional manipulation I experienced. But yesterday I read a story that profoundly impacted me. Kelsey shares her story on her blog NoSo Living. Kelsey, it was your bravery and courage that has unlocked the power of my own voice. Thank you. It was your story that has convicted me deeply to not be a part of the problem and speak my truth.


For years since my experience, I took shame and placed the blame on myself for “asking for it” and for “allowing it” and “allowing him in” or blaming myself for “not being guarded”.


Not anymore.


Yes, I let him in because he was someone I trusted. Yes, I let down my walls because I thought that’s what people did with those they cared about. He was someone I thought I loved. More importantly, he was someone I desperately wanted to love me in return.


And the worst part?


He knew that. And he used that.


My life had become all about this person. Doing whatever I could to earn their trust and affection. My life consisted of giving all that I had emotionally to give to prove myself worth taking a chance. He claimed being “scared” and said that it was a “trust” issue. That if I could just somehow “show him” that he could trust me, by giving him absolutely everything, maybe then he could “let his heart fall for me”. He was speaking my language. He knew the right things to say.


After years and years of giving all I had to give emotionally just for the hopes of being in a relationship someday with this person, the rollercoaster of emotions and tension inevitably came to a head after years of playing the same game.


I was sober at the time and I was completely capable to give consent and I was completely capable to say “no”, which I did.


Multiple times.


And I know in my heart that he was sober enough to hear and understand. He knew what me pushing him away meant. He knew what me clearing saying, “I don’t want to” meant.


We left our mutual friends house before midnight because he wanted to go back to my room to talk about “us”. Finally, I knew something about our relationship was going to change. But I was so very wrong about what that something would be.


We had hung out in my room multiple times before. Maybe I should have known when he led me over to the bed with obvious lust in his eyes. Me? In that moment I thought I was just so in love that maybe I didn’t see his “obvious” intent.


“Show me you care.”

“Show me how much you want to be with me.”

“I know you love me, don’t you?”


These were the things he said as he tried to get me out of my clothes. I remember trembling and saying that I wasn’t comfortable with how fast this was going. I remember telling him so.


“Oh come on, how will I know I can trust you?” was what he said before he kissed me. We had kissed before this but I remember feeling like I had a choice to make. How badly did I want to be with him? It was what I had wanted for so many years and here it was. All I had to do was give him over everything I had. All I had to do was give him my virginity - a gift I had since then held very dear to me.


Could I do that?

Should I do that?


I remember wrestling with myself as I tried to push him away so I could think. I remember telling him to “get off of me, please”. I told him “if I’m going to do this, I need to feel right about it and I don’t right now.” He told me it wouldn’t feel right my first time so that I should just trust him and that I would feel so great after. He bound my hands in his as he slipped my dress up over my head until my hands were tangled.


That’s when I started to get legitimately scared. I was undressed and I didn’t want to be. I tried multiple times to bring my hands back down and put my dress back on but everything I tried, he resisted my efforts and said, “if I had known you were so hot….”


He asked about protection. Of course I didn’t have any. I wasn’t planning on anything like this happening to me. I said, “I don’t have any.” He continued down the path anyways. I told him again, “please get off of me” and “not tonight. Not like this. My first time shouldn’t be like this.” I tried to close my legs and sit up. I held my legs and knees together with all of my might.


It was when he forced MY legs apart with aggression that my body and mind began to shut down. I froze. Something in me felt paralyzed with fear of what could possibly happen next.


That’s when I began to cry.


The reality of what he was trying to manipulate me to do washed over me. And the reality of what he would possibly force on me crashed on top of me in the weight of his body holding me down.


I cried. My hands were tangled over my head in my dress but I lowered them down as I heard my dress seams ripping apart. My hands were free to push him away. He resisted my attempts to free myself. My mind was screaming at me to “do something we’re about to shut down!” So I grabbed him around the neck fiercely and held him to me. If I couldn’t get him off of me, I could at least hold him down so he couldn’t force his way inside of me.


I cried louder and said, “I’m sorry, I can’t do this.”


He punched the pillow right beside my head. Hard. So close I thought he was going to hit me in the face. He was angry. Angry that I was crying loud enough to wake anyone who was asleep upstairs.


I released his neck and looked into his face. No longer did I see the man I thought he could be, but the boy who only wanted one thing from me. The boy who would never love me. The boy who would take and take everything from someone who loved him for his own selfish desires.


I struggled out from underneath him and I couldn’t say a word. I didn’t even understand what had just happened but I knew that it could’ve been so much worse. His anger that he didn’t get his way was evident. As he put his own clothes back on, he didn’t speak a word. He just seethed and glared at me.


Finally, before opening my door to leave, he made the whole thing about him not being able to trust me after all, called me a tease, and made it my fault.


And with that, he shut the door and left. A few moments later I heard his truck driving away. I cried myself to sleep that night and many nights after. I spent months doubting if I should’ve just done it. Would we be together if I had? We hardly spoke after. And when we did, it was presented that I was the one in the wrong and I had to apologize for what happened.


But here’s the thing…..did he technically rape me? No. Would he have tried? I honestly don’t know. What I do know is that I was pushed past my own boundary by someone using force against my own attempts to stop him. What I do know is that my “no” was ignored and dismissed. Even though I was able to stop him eventually, it doesn’t mean I wasn’t taken advantage of and manipulated. No, he didn’t get my virginity that night, but he did steal something from me that night.


And it took a lot of healing for that to be redeemed and restored. But I thank God that it was.


That I was.


Here’s what I’ve learned:


I don’t have to compromise myself to be loved.
I don’t have to earn a man’s respect- it should be freely given.
I don’t have to give everything I have for the possibility of receiving a man’s affections.
I don’t have to do anything with my body that I’m not ready for or comfortable with.
I don’t have to convince anyone to love me or be with me.
I don’t have to have sex to prove anything to anyone.
I don’t have to play the game.
I don’t have to apologize for my “no”.


And I’m so thankful to God for gifting me a spouse who teaches me that a real man wouldn’t ever ask me to.


Mitchell, my husband, a real man, wouldn’t ever ask me to.