I’m ashamed also because the last time I was with him, I went to his house to tell him, “We’re done.” He wanted to have sex and I most definitely didn’t. I was on my period. We struggled. He kept pulling my pants down. I thought about punching him, but I didn’t. Maybe that would’ve been an acknowledgment that what was happening was rape. So I gave in and afterward left, ashamed. That’s how I felt, but what I showed was a young woman in control. I compartmentalized the trauma and filtered it so that it would lie to me and keep me safe. Another dirty secret, another shame lashing.
