The Sexual Harassment Piece of the Story

Today I did not hide anything; I was seen and heard regardless of whether the honesty felt selfish and dramatic. My struggles are not only with the traumatic events I have focused on in therapy, but rather to the pattern of painful experiences with men. I admitted my shame for whatever it is about me that attracts this attention. It is difficult to use my voice, but I spoke shame and secrets, like the sexual harassment case I brought forward almost 20 years ago. It is a story I kept hidden and minimized, trying to convince myself all these years it was nothing. Yet the guilt that poured forth as I voiced it was overwhelming. Out loud, I questioned why I was “that kind of girl”. It felt stupid and it was a painful question to voice.

I show mercy to others so why not myself?

In my last post I talked about seeing my difficult experiences and traumas as separate stories. I only wanted to work on the biggest, hardest parts in therapy. The PTSD parts. As time went on and more light was shed on all the shadows inside me, I saw that the pieces are connected and I was finally becoming aware of the larger picture. The other stories, like the one below, make my whole body shake just thinking about them, so clearly these too need healing.

Shame becomes compounded and causes us to respond differently than we could without it. We respond with fear, indecision and a loss of dignity. This new perspective is helping me to forgive myself for past mistakes. Maybe I can stop hating my body because it did not run away or fight. My compounded shame already had control of my body and my brain had little choice to protect me. I minimized my bad experiences, especially if they were not “as bad” as other past experiences. My threshold to inappropriate behaviors had already been lowered by my traumas and I was willing to look past things like sexual harassment instead of speak up.

The other stories, the other traumas, are actually not separate at all. Each experience builds on a previous one. Each hard story impacts the next hard story.

my sexual harassment story

I married my ex-husband during my sophomore year in college but I never wavered from my academic studies. They became a distraction from my abusive marriage, an obsession really. Intellect and academics felt far safer than the big emotions that waited for me at home. I was always the top of my class and received endless awards and recognition. I earned an internship at a prestigious corporation. This competitive internship meant the world to me and opened doors to a fabulous career. I was grateful for the opportunity to be part of something big. Being successful and needed gave me an incredible high. At home my husband told me every day how stupid I am, but at school and work I was told the opposite and I clung to this.

After a year as an intern, the same boss hired me into his group – another perfect step toward the career I craved. I enjoyed being around my boss. He was smart, funny and not aggressive like my husband.

unwanted attention

Another year went by. Although aware of the extra attention my from my boss, I convinced myself I am reading into the situation based on my past. I did not trust myself, my gut. I was already accustomed to unwanted touch and attention. Plus it all happened so gradually, I cannot pinpoint any moment that his behavior became unprofessional. I pushed through the uncomfortable and the anxiety and focused on my work.

He frequently requested I work late after the rest of the team had gone home. When helping me on my computer he often stood behind me and massaged my neck and shoulders. He made lewd comments and told me dirty jokes, but I was on a technical team of almost all men, I assumed it came with the territory. He insisted I ride in his car to grab a drink or dinner after working late. One time afterward, he drove me to a park. My heart raced and I wanted to go home – and then quickly remembered I never wanted to go home! Nothing in my life felt safe anymore. A police car pulled in behind us and told us the park is closed after dark. I thanked God. None of the events alone seemed worth voicing. Nothing felt big enough to cause problems.

one day it felt big enough to voice

While working from home, my boss called my direct line instead of using the general number to reach anyone on our team. He asked me to bring a stack of books he had forgotten in the office to his house, a 25 minute drive.

Something about being there felt all wrong and my head began spinning but I NEVER SEEM TO HAVE THE GUTS TO SAY NO, NOT TO MEN, NOT TO SOMEONE IN AUTHORITY. I changed into her clothes and put mine in the dryer. I told myself, “You are silly! He is being nice.” Yet I already felt violated.

He made me a mixed vodka drink. I thanked him but did not touch it, knowing I had to return to work. He had a beautiful home, not like the low-income apartment we were still renting. He asked me to sit on the couch until the clothes were dry. It was a large beautiful gray sectional and I sat down in the corner of it. He sat next to me and talked for a while, just normal light-hearted conversation, yet my heart raced and I wanted to leave. I kept telling myself nothing is wrong.

I always freeze and I hate it

He reached for my bare legs and put my feet on his lap and began massaging my legs and feet. Am I supposed to enjoy this? I never know what I am SUPPOSED TO FEEL. The only thing I DO feel is hurt and naive and childish. Why do I always feel like a freaking child!? I was scared and completely frozen as his hands worked their way up my legs.

Why does my body always freeze instead of acting!? I am angry with my body for that! More angry than I can express! I could not think or hear what he was saying. He reached behind me for the TV Remote but instead of moving back into his spot he stayed behind me and began rubbing my neck. I wanted to cry but my body did nothing. He turned the TV on and a porn movie was playing.

for once my body worked

I couldn’t look at the porn on the TV . I couldn’t look at him.

So instead my eyes stayed on the floor as I pulled free and insisted I am needed at the office, that I must hurry back. I ran to the dryer, grabbed my wet clothes, changed fast in the bathroom and flew out the door. My heart raced all the way back and my head was spinning. I was sad. I was hurt. Most of all, I was horribly fearful of what my husband would do to me and to my boss. Between the hard rain and my aching head, I completely lost my way driving back to work. A full hour later I arrived. The rest of that day was hopeless trying to get my mind to focus! Why did everything feel so wrong when nothing happened? Giving up on the pile of unfinished work, I went home. I kept telling myself:

the pain I caused by being honest

The next day I went to HR and admitted all of it. She asked me to stay silent, to not put the company at risk of a defamation lawsuit. Throughout the day I saw my colleagues called into that HR office. I had no clue what she was telling them and felt so ashamed of what I had started.

The following day I rushed from my office to help a client but stopped abruptly seeing my boss sitting on a bench with two security guards. He gave me the saddest look that hurt my soul. I realized they fired him. How could my story be worth firing such a valued colleague in our company!? Why didn’t they just warn him and move me elsewhere? I could not comprehend it. He was amazing at his job and everyone loved him. I was in complete shock and felt horribly guilty I cost him his job.

more shame

Hiding in a bathroom stall, I cried. When I left work that day, I picked up my 3-year old daughter from the company daycare and walked outside to find my boss’s wife waiting for me. She angrily berated me in front of many colleagues passing us. Deeply humiliated, I stood still and said nothing. My daughter cried in my arms while she yelled at me.

My ex-husband was crazy possessive and jealous and I was terrified to tell him what happened. I was fearful for myself, but I also expected him to physically attack my boss and it scared me. We already had the police called on us multiple times when he started fistfights with men who flirted with me. But I could not chance my husband finding out from anyone else, for he worked in our same department.

I felt a huge jolt when instead of showing jealousy, much less any sort of protection, he was disappointed in me and voiced pity for my boss – said he felt terrible he had lost his job over something so small. My shame increased exponentially in that moment and I have always regretted speaking up. In the weeks ahead, I got many angry looks and comments from the other men on our team. One colleague asked me how I could have done something so pathetic. Another told me he thought I was my boss’s friend and someone they could all trust.

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voicing secrets lets in the light

Today I voiced this piece of my past and several other pieces. With many tears I felt the heavy burden I carried. I felt convinced it would not have been a huge ordeal to anyone else, but regardless, the shame around it had control over me. My body shook and my voice choked in my throat like it always does if I touch my past. I hate how I freeze. I hate that my voice fails. But this time, I let myself feel the pain, waited for my voice to return and continued being honest. I held so much guilt for the pain I caused rather than recognizing I am worth being protected.

I never viewed this experience as one of the “trauma” pieces to my story, rationalizing that it is not as big as the other pieces. Once again I had to learn to give up the tight control over HOW I want to heal. God has a different plan for my healing journey and it is called HONESTY. Maybe I do not get to decide which experience takes priority. Maybe instead I am called to be honest with my whole story.

there is not something wrong with me

My therapist told me my pattern is not about being “that kind of girl”. She explained how men who want to control and abuse will test the waters – will push the limits with person after person until they find one that does not push back and they take the opportunity. For many reasons – earlier abuse…non-assertive behaviors modeled in childhood…wishing to be kind and open to others…afraid to hurt anyone’s feelings…I was one that did not push back.

Research shows that survivors of previous abuse and assault are at a higher risk of being sexually assaulted or harassed in the future. Also, women who have already been traumatized by child sexual abuse or assaulted as an adult are far less likely to speak out about sexual harassment at work. (Engel, B, 2018) The shame is compounded.

reference

Engel, B. (2018). Why So Many Women Don’t Report Sexual Harassment and Assault. Psych Central. Retrieved on August 15, 2020, from https://psychcentral.com/blog/why-so-many-women-dont-report-sexual-harassment-and-assault/