The Wound

They raped me when I was 20.

As brutality overwhelmed my body and my psyche, a deep knowing flooded my drugged brain and immobilized body. I felt myself become one with every woman on the planet who, throughout the history of humanity, had ever been, was being, or would ever be raped. It was a strangely spiritual experience of oneness with billions of women, past, present and future; a sisterhood that none of us would ever choose.

There was also a knowing of the futility of resistance in that moment. The drug and the men attacking me were too strong. Unable to escape the degradation, a part of me went missing, Dissociation shielded me from the terror.

Over the next half century, the buried memory of rape, along with various other patriarchal abuses that women encounter, whispered “beware” into every decision I made.

The Coverup

Each soul incarnates with a purpose, and brings to itself the experiences it needs to prepare for that purpose. In my mid-40s, Guidance gave me my Sacred Assignment. I was to write a book about my experiences with patriarchal abuse. But I wasn’t ready. I had created a mask that hid a shame that was never mine to carry. It was not a mask of deception, but protection. I loved my mask. Behind it, I not only survived, I thrived. I raised 2 good citizens, and I built a meaningful career in nursing and education.

I was not ready to let anyone see who hid behind that carefully constructed façade. Shame and fear still shackled me. I thought that with age, I would worry less about what people thought of me. It would take another 30 years—and a great deal of healing—before I could give rape a voice.

Easter Island, The Uncovering

When I was 62, my travels had instilled in me a deep appreciation for cultural exchange, so I was living my ideal life when I built and managed a successful, ocean-front hotel on Easter Island, where global travelers came to visit the Moai and share their world views with me.

Then, in 2010, an 8.5 earthquake in Chile sent a tsunami racing across the Pacific. Before dawn, bullhorns sounded, warning us to flee to higher ground.

As I raced my guests to safety, my foot shaking uncontrollably on the gas pedal, something inside me broke open. The inner wall that had kept the trauma sealed away for 42 years cracked. What followed was its own kind of tsunami that set the stage for truth to be revealed.

The next decade was a long, frightening journey through nightmares, insomnia and physical dysregulation. It was also a marathon spiritual awakening toward truth-telling.

Enacting My Sacred Assignment

Sacred Assignments are often exhilarating, and sometimes they are heavy and deeply disruptive. But when Guidance gives us a directive, if we want to live meaningful lives, we can’t say no. At 71, I became more aware of my mortality. If I was going to write this book, I needed to begin while I still had time. I finally sat down to the task.

What a shock and disappointment it was to realize that fear and shame still made exposing my underbelly far too dangerous. However, the wisdom engendered by the extra thirty years of lived experience did assist the writing. I was now able to cradle my shame and fear under my protective wing while I proceeded to break my silence.

That shift made all the difference.

The Cost of Breaking Silence

It took four long, hard years to complete my book. As buried memories found their voice, all hell broke loose in my physical health. I became very ill. Telling the truth felt like I was derailing, when in fact, I was shifting from a track that hadn’t nourished me for a long time, onto a track that, once I summoned the guts to pursue my assignment, actually led me safely home.

The Strength on the Other Side

And life without the mask?
It is better than I ever imagined.

A Question for You

If there is a truth within you that has been waiting—quietly, patiently—
is it asking now to be heard?

Sharon Diotte, Author
Te’ora: From Vulnerability and Wounding to Wisdom and Freedom.