Can you do self-insemination at home ?
As the #MeToo movement gained momentum, I found myself immersed in journalism, surrounded by powerful stories of women bravely sharing their experiences of abuse. Their courage to speak out resonated deeply with me, yet it also stirred conflicting emotions within. As I read these narratives and crafted articles, I was often reminded of my own painful past—an unsettling mix of anxiety and adrenaline coursing through me without clear reason.
The vivid recollections of a young girl, intoxicated and abandoned by friends, awakening to find someone violating her personal space ignited a fire in my gut. I had always been someone who tended to suppress painful memories, a coping mechanism shaped by a challenging childhood filled with emotional turmoil. Even now, parts of my life feel fragmented, as if I’m trying to piece together a puzzle with missing pieces. My therapist once described this as a “PTSD coping mechanism,” where my mind instinctively obscured painful experiences to prevent me from reliving them.
One of those experiences was my sexual assault.
For years, my body instinctively blocked out this traumatic memory. I convinced myself it wasn’t “sexual assault” and that the responsibility lay with me—my choices, my drinking, my attire, even the lies I told my parents about my whereabouts. The narrative of self-blame was all too familiar, a reality many victims face. Studies indicate that a majority of victims don’t report sexual assault, fearing the trauma of reliving their experience. Deep down, I recognized that I felt the same way.
At the time, I didn’t even consider what happened to me as sexual assault since we hadn’t had penetrative sex. As a teenager, I mistakenly believed that sexual assault equated to rape. I lacked the understanding that any unwanted sexual contact is indeed sexual assault.
I remember a night spent with friends, playing drinking games at a gathering. As the night wore on, things became hazy. My memories are fragmented—a typical trauma response. I recall being pinned down on a bed by a larger guy, trying to fight back, feeling his body against mine in ways that made me uncomfortable. I screamed and kicked, yet none of my friends came to my aid. Instead, when I confided in them later, I was met with blame. They suggested I should have simply gone along with it and accused me of ruining the night. As a result, invitations to hang out dwindled.
It took nearly a decade for me to accept that what happened to me was indeed sexual assault. It took years to understand that I wasn’t at fault. I learned that my refusal was valid and that my consent deserved respect. I eventually recognized that those I considered friends were not truly supportive and that culpability also lay with the enablers around my assailant.
Coming to terms with my identity as a sexual assault survivor has been an ongoing journey. The trauma continues to affect my relationships and how I perceive my body and sexuality.
If you’re seeking further insights into related topics, check out this post from our other blog, and for more expert information, visit Women’s Health, which provides excellent resources on pregnancy and home insemination. Additionally, Intracervical Insemination offers authoritative information on the subject.
For anyone navigating similar experiences, it’s crucial to seek support and understand that healing is a journey.
Summary:
It took almost ten years for the author to come to terms with her sexual assault, reflecting on the complexities of memory, self-blame, and the societal narratives that often silence victims. The article emphasizes the importance of acknowledging one’s experience and finding support while shedding light on the misconceptions surrounding sexual assault, particularly among young people.