What We Carry: The Unseen Impact of Sexual Assault

WhiteFlag Team

Trigger Warning: This post contains detailed discussions of sexual assault. Please read with care.

For Sexual Assault Awareness Month, we asked several survivors to answer a series of anonymous questions about their experiences. Each of them has never seen justice for what happened to them. Many haven’t shared their stories publicly — or even privately — until now.

Their responses reflect a truth that too often goes unspoken: the pain doesn’t disappear when the moment ends. It lingers in relationships, in how we see ourselves, in the silence that follows. Each person’s story is different — but the impact is undeniable.

Below are the exact questions we asked, followed by the raw, honest responses from four survivors. No edits. No filters. Just truth.

1. Have you ever told anyone about your assault? If so, who? If not, why have you kept it to yourself?

Response 1: My friends, mom, and a school counselor.

Response 2: Yes, I’ve shared it with a few loved ones.

Response 3: I told my best friend, from that point on I didn’t tell many people until I got older. I never bring it up, but if we are on the topic or someone asks me about it, I feel comfortable sharing about it now. 

Response 4: It took me a really long time to tell anyone. Still, over a decade later, I can count on one hand how many people really know the situation and what happened that night.

2. How has your experience affected your ability to trust others — in friendships, family, or romantic relationships?

Response 1: Oddly enough, I don’t think it really impacted my ability to trust people, but it did affect my ability to open up to people. It made me very cold and numb to any kind of emotions or connections I tried to make. 

Response 2: It’s impacted my trust completely, especially with men, even if they are family members. Now I’m always in alert mode around other males that aren’t my dad or my husband.

Response 3: I honestly don’t know, I believe I buried it so deep and tried to forget about it, that at times I DO forget that it ever happened. I can’t pinpoint specific examples of how it’s affected my ability to trust others, but I’m sure on some level it has. 

Response 4: Vulnerability is my biggest fear. It's really hard for me to open up, talk about my feelings, and trust others. Still, I struggle with certain intimacy things with my partner as well--he's patient and understanding so I do feel safe.

3. What do you want people to understand about what it’s like to live with this — long after it happened?

Response 1: You remember so many details about it that you wish you could forget.

Response 2: It reshapes everything, how you see the world. It makes you question who you are, and how you act/behave around others. Even now, after talking to a man I don’t know well, I obsessively replay the conversation in my head, analyzing if I did or said something that could be misread. That’s the kind of mental weight it leaves.

Response 3: That no matter what the circumstances were, (young, drunk, etc.) it was not my fault and I cannot blame myself or ask myself questions like “what did I do?” “Was I sending mixed signals?” “Was I acting like it was okay?” Furthermore, I cannot take that moment back so I can’t dwell on things like “Why didn’t I say no?” All I can do is learn from that experience and ensure that something like that will never happen again. Lastly, you have NOTHING to be embarrassed about. For a while I felt ashamed and embarrassed about the situation, but I had not reason to be. I know that now.

Response 4: The unfortunate reality is that this'll probably live with you forever. Sure, we'll heal, be less triggered, connect with someone on a romantic level again, but it'll never leave you. Certain days, smells, sounds, situations, all can randomly spark up a trigger again. You'll replay that night, what you "could've done differently", and how you react to things, but please remember, none of this was your fault. None.

4. Has your assault changed how you see yourself? Your body? Your safety?

Response 1: Not really that I can think of.

Response 2: Absolutely. It left me feeling vulnerable; like I need to pay attention to everything I say because I’m never completely safe.

Response 3: I guess my safety, because as women, we have a higher risk of assault. It has made me more aware of my surroundings and less trusting in people, they need to earn/prove that they deserve to be trusted. I did change how I saw myself for a short time period after, I felt dirty and that I was just “a body.” Those feelings have since gone away though. 

Response 4: For a long time I hated looking at myself in the mirror. I hated my body. I over analyzed how I dressed, laughed, talked, etc. I was always second guessing how I acted in situations; did I lead someone to assume anything? I lost a lot of sleep, a lot of weight, and a lot of self worth after that night.

5. What does support look like for you now — and how has your view of safety and comfort changed over time?

Response 1: I don’t talk about it with people.

Response 2: I know I have my family’s support, and I’m grateful for that. But that doesn’t make me feel safer that it won’t happen again.

Response 3: Support is talking about it with those you do feel comfortable with. Support is being there for others when they have experienced something similar. Support is not comparing your story with others, just listening and being there for one another.

Response 4: It is very rare that I talk to anyone about it. My boyfriend and I will have the hard conversations, but that's about it. I haven't even tackled that night in therapy yet. Oh, and my journal of course knows everything.

6. What’s something you wish someone would have said or done for you after it happened — or what do you wish they hadn’t done?

Response 1: My friends that I told have helped me a lot. So, I wouldn’t change anything.

Response 2: I wish the people around me had advised or helped me to legally pursue them, instead of telling me to let it go.

Response 3: Sometimes I wish me or my friend would have confronted him. I wish someone would have told me, don’t feel ashamed, it was not my fault. 

Response 4: That they believed me. Because this person wasn't a stranger and was in my life and friend group since I was young, people had a hard time believing it happened and that it wasn't just "a drunk night".

7. What do you do now — on the hard days — to take care of yourself or cope with the memories?

Response 1: Journal. Journal. Journal.

Response 2: I just remind myself that it wasn’t my fault, that I didn’t do anything to “provoke” their actions. Their actions were never a reflection of me.

Response 3: Sometimes I’ll look him up online just to remind myself how far I’ve come — and honestly, how much he's fallen off. Then I’ll call my best friend and we’ll talk about that night. It still feels surreal. She reminds me I’m strong, brave, and that I didn’t deserve any of it. And yeah... we talk some shit too. It helps.

Response 4: I honestly keep it to myself as much as I can. It's easier that way. I try my best not to re-live that night. I am trying my best to not let it affect my relationship, and when I am triggered or having a tough conversation, I allow it and welcome it so my boyfriend understands more. And then, of course, my journal knows it all.

8. If someone reading this has never told anyone what happened to them, what would you want to say to them?

Response 1: Do what’s best for you.

Response 2: It’s not your fault! You didn’t cause this. You didn’t invite it. You are not to blame. It’s their fault, they are guilty not you. And please don’t keep to yourself. Not for them. Not even for justice. But because you might save somebody else.

Response 3: That it’s okay to not tell the whole world, but you should tell someone you trust because that is a really heavy wait to bear on your own. Talking about it and acknowledging the assault sometimes helps you move forward.

Response 4: I'm sorry. You didn't deserve this. Your journey to healing is going to be for a very long time, but there is support for you. Don't carry this weight of the situation by yourself. And, always remember, this was not your fault. I'll say it again: this was not your fault.

There’s no one way to survive sexual assault. Some of us speak out. Some of us never tell a soul. Some of us are still trying to make sense of it all. But every experience is valid. Every story matters.

To anyone reading this who has endured the same — whether you’ve shared it or not — we see you. You are not alone in your silence, your grief, or your healing. These anonymous voices may not be identified, but they are real. And so are you.

If you're looking for a place to talk, connect, or simply feel understood, the WhiteFlag app is here for you — judgment-free, anonymous, and safe.

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