Some people won’t believe you until you break. Break anyway, if you need to. You don’t owe anyone your composure.
Given a choice between accepting that something awful has happened, or thinking that someone is mistaken, exaggerating, or lying, much of the time our brains opt to deny the awful thing happened.
Being sexually harassed is less like you were running and tripped, and more like someone pushed you. Replaying everything you did or didn’t do doesn’t actually help you to prevent it from happening again.
Even people who care about you and want you to be safe may disbelieve you at first. This is not because you are to blame or because your story is not true.
Maybe you still talk about it like it wasn’t a big deal. Maybe you laugh when you tell the story. Maybe you change the details each time, depending on who’s listening. Maybe you say “it was weird” instead of “it was wrong.”
Sometimes, survival looks like contradiction. Like forgetting on purpose. Like trying on different words until one of them feels safe enough to hold.
You don’t owe anyone a neat version of what happened. It was messy. You’re still here. That’s the truth.
dancing in my storm, may 2025
Surrender the Snail
📂brain dump / digital diary / untangling the knots💭 words, art, memes, chaos, clarity—whatever helps🔓 navigating the barren landscape—pot holes, craters, aftermath🫀 we believe youSubmit anything.#sexualharassment
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