Trigger Warning: This
post will contain discussion of rape and sexual abuse, if these topics are
upsetting then please don’t read this post. If the topics become upsetting,
then please seek professional support and advice!
You've got the words to change a nation
But you're biting your tongue
You've spent a life-time stuck in silence
Afraid you'll say something wrong
But you're biting your tongue
You've spent a life-time stuck in silence
Afraid you'll say something wrong
Emeli Sande – Read All About It
This piece was inspired by a little something one of my
inspirations; Victoria from the blog
and YouTube channel;
InTheFrow. You can read her piece about the importance of saying ‘no’ to things
like favors for people, event invitations, and other tasks and opportunities, here.
The piece left me thinking about just how powerful saying ‘no’ can be to
someone who has experienced the ultimate act of betrayal. The one act where ‘no’
is so essential that without it, the act becomes a crime…
In 2018 the Director of Public Prosecutions; Alison
Saunders, made the heinous comment
that unless you have clearly said ‘no’ to sex, it is not rape. You know when you’ve
had this thought in your head and literally everyone has told you that it isn’t
true and not to worry about it? Then someone confirms that thought and agrees
with it? And it completely throws you because now you question the reliability
of all the people who reassured you of the opposite?! One of the many reasons
why I didn’t report the six-month-long abuse and one instance of rape any
sooner was because I couldn’t remember ever saying ‘no’ or ever fighting back or
screaming for help. I worried – no, I obsessed over – this fact and that
if I were to tell someone, their response would be that I should’ve done one of
those things in order for it all to have been illegal. I think that the utter
shock that something that was rarely talked about at that time (2006)
was actually
happening to me, was enough to silence me. And the disbelief of who it was that
was doing it to me, only contributed to my reluctance to report it.
I think there was also a part of me who was very unsure
about which reaction I’d rather have; did I want someone to tell me that yes, I’d
been raped and abused or did I want them to say ‘no’ because I hadn’t protested
enough, it wasn’t a crime? Would I rather be told that it was all my fault and
that no one else was to blame? Or that it was the fault of someone else, but that
nothing I could do would ever truly feel like revenge or justice? I was so
terrified that the ‘no’ response would destroy me and leave me feeling so
blameworthy that my already present suicidal thoughts would just get worse.
Another of the many reasons I didn’t report the abuse was
that refusing to, was my first opportunity to actually say ‘no’ to doing
something. I was desperate to regain some control and power, and I knew with
absolute certainty that the moment I told someone what had happened, I’d lose
control over the entire situation. Whoever I reported it to would choose who
knew next, then someone would be choosing when I had to talk about it and
exactly which details, they wanted me to talk about. I couldn’t cope
with the thought that I would no longer own my experience, and that I would
have very little rights and very little say over it.
Of course, using the power of ‘no’ as motivation not to
report the abuse and rape to the Police, wasn’t exactly the best call to make
and after two years, I decided to use ‘no’ in response to being silent so I spoke
up, and my abuser was arrested. I’d finally come to the conclusion that I’d
rather say ‘no’ to keeping quiet and to this happening to someone else. I’d
learnt that my words have power and by that point, not speaking up had led to
me attempting suicide because I was so disassociated from the abuse that I began
hallucinating.
I didn’t benefit from reporting the rape and abuse as much
as I’d hoped; it was a huge weight off my shoulders and it meant if he did do
it again that I could say I’d done all I could to stop that; but, talking about
it and CPS refusing to prosecute was an even bigger setback to my mental
health. I began using ‘no’ in response to the many professionals – Police,
Paramedics, Social Workers, Psychiatrists, Nurses, Doctors… - who offered me
help, support, and advice. I refused everything because I thought that saying ‘yes’
would make me weak and would be like admitting that I needed help and that
something was wrong. Saying ‘no’ felt brave, and strong. Defiant, and
courageous. As though saying ‘no’ made me independent and I believed that I needed
to stop relying on others because ‘others’ didn’t stop the abuse and the rape
from happening. I might’ve refused to tell anyone what was happening but that
doesn’t mean I wasn’t angry that people didn’t notice the few signs that were
there; the daily showering, the self-harm, the behaviour and attitude change,
my grades dropping… I mean, there were things there and they were enough that
when people found out what had happened to me, they would say ‘oh; now that all
makes sense.
Another ‘no?’ Denying that I was experiencing any thoughts
and feelings was surprisingly easy because other than the occasions when I felt
suicidal, I mostly felt numb and empty. I think that sometimes this emptiness
left me able to swallow so many tablets because I was desperate to be full of
something. And the numbness just sparked off my self-harm through cutting because
I needed to see the blood to reassure me that I was actually still alive and
that I wasn’t just the empty shell that felt.
Professionals would ask how I was feeling, and I’d tell them
‘fine’ and the ones who knew me would doubt this, and the ones who didn’t know
me would be reassured and continue going about their business! After very
little time in mental health services, I learnt that saying ‘no’ to the question
“are you feeling suicidal?” was really the only answer people wanted to hear.
And it was the only reply that would help me continue to attempt to take my own
life. Telling a Police Officer or a Doctor or someone that I wanted to be dead
just led to the whole ‘I’ve-got-a-duty-of-care’ line and typically, me being
sectioned under the Mental Health Act
1983 and losing the ability to hurt/kill myself.
So, I said ‘no’ until I was at the point of no return in
2012 and was told that under the Mental Capacity Act
2005, Doctors would be putting me on life support in order to give me the
antidote for the near-fatal overdose I’d taken. My last words before they put me
under? ‘I hope something goes wrong and I die anyway!’ When the sedation was
too light and I woke up still on the ventilator but unable to move to show
someone that I was awake, it was probably one of the scariest moments of my
life. Nurses and Doctors only realized I was regaining consciousness because a
tear slipped down my cheek and my pulse elevated. When I woke up properly, I could
still remember that terrified feeling and it left me convinced that I didn’t
want it to happen again. I knew that meant changing my attitude and finally
saying ‘yes’ to the help being offered and within days I was sectioned under
the Mental Health Act and transferred over 100 miles away to a medium secure
psychiatric hospital specializing in my diagnosis of Borderline
Personality Disorder.
Saying ‘yes’ was difficult and initially, it felt like a
step back after so many years of feeling that ‘no’ kept me in control; but
through Psychology sessions and Dialectical
Behaviour Therapy, I learnt that I could choose to maintain that control in
a more positive and healthy way.
TOP FIVE LESSONS LEARNT ABOUT 'NO'
1. You should never be judged for saying it
2. The main power is in the ability to make the decision and not whether that decision is a 'no'
3. 'No' shouldn't always be seen as negative or unhealthy
4. You don't have to say it to make it rape - rape is rape
5. It's not a dirty word