Survivor Story
Decades of Doubt
Not That Bad
My boyfriend asks,
“Did I rape you?”
“Yes” escapes my mouth
I shouldn’t have been alone with him in his apartment.
It’s my fault.
I got on the bed with him.
I let him take my clothes off.
It’s my fault.
I didn’t scream or yell.
Kick or punch.
It’s my fault.
He apologizes.
He cries.
I’ve upset him.
It’s my fault.
I replay the assault over and over and over.
It’s my fault.
I didn’t want to.
He still did.
It wasn’t that bad.
He didn’t hold me down.
No weapons involved.
I survived.
It wasn’t that bad.
I’m overreacting,
Looking for attention.
Good girls don’t make it about themselves.
I shouldn’t tell anyone.
What if someone believes me.
His life would be ruined.
It wasn’t that bad.
I replay the assault over and over and over.
It wasn’t that bad.
We’re dating.
We keep dating.
It wasn’t really rape.
He makes me feel special.
It wasn’t really rape.
He says he loves me.
I love him.
It wasn’t really rape.
No one ever has to know.
It’s my fault.
It wasn’t that bad.
It wasn’t really rape.
I replay the assault over and over and over
For days, months, years—
IT WAS NOT MY FAULT
IT WAS THAT BAD
IT WAS RAPE.
——
If It Were Truly That Awful
Doubt because for over three decades you’ve buried this secret deep within.
It’s too hard to acknowledge the truth. You questioned your judgment, your choices—that’s what he trained you to do. So, you rewrote the relationship in your head.
Doubt because you trusted him with your innocence. Yet, your stomach knotted every time he ignored your distress and discomfort. He groomed you, then sexually assaulted you, hoping you wouldn’t know the difference.
Doubt because when you acknowledged it was rape, he apologized. He said it was an accident. He cried. He told you he loved you. Those three words: He. Loves. You.
Doubt because no one would believe you. You told yourself it wasn’t that bad. You didn’t want to blame him—you felt the need to protect him. If you broke your silence, it would ruin his life.
Doubt because you were a good girl and good girls don’t challenge; they put others’ needs before their own. You didn’t want to upset him.
Doubt because you were in love with him.
Doubt because you couldn’t breathe without him, yet he slowly suffocated you.
Doubt because his back-and-forth behavior—the harming then comforting—conditioned you to mistake relief for love.
Doubt because you believed him when he said he would never hurt you again.
Doubt because you were willing to turn yourself into a pretzel, terrified he’d leave you.
Doubt because if it were truly that awful, you would have left.
Doubt because you anchored yourself in hope that one day, he would become the person you imagined he could be.
Doubt because you’re ashamed you didn’t leave sooner.
Doubt because you don’t feel angry and resentful.
Doubt because you can’t accept it was never love.
- Stephanie Beth Brescia, she/her
Stephanie Beth Brescia is a writer from the Midwest who focuses on poetry and creative nonfiction. After staying silent for thirty-two years, she started writing to finally put words to the feelings she couldn't explain. She writes to help herself heal, but also to let other survivors know they aren't alone. She knows how helpful it is to hear someone else say exactly what you’ve been thinking, and she hopes her words provide that same comfort to others.
