As an elder woman, I understand even more clearly the importance of speaking out and raising awareness about PTSD surrounding sexual trauma. I specifically want to encourage older women like me to break the silence and share their stories with each other and with younger women. In my memoir, Te’ora, I explore my own history with sexual assault and how I learned to heal.  Below are some excerpts surrounding the long-term effects of rape, and some other thoughts about how we not only survive but thrive.  

The statistics about PTSD symptoms and sexual trauma reveal a sobering reality that too often remains in the shadows. Several studies have shown that rape victims have one of the highest risks of developing PTSD and related autoimmune disorders. The estimated risk is 49 percent. I think that’s a low estimation. Many of us manage and mask our symptoms so well that we aren’t included in the data.

Thankfully, information about the immediate and mid-term effects of rape is now pretty abundant. An easy on-line search turns up many sites with useful information. In reading other people’s accounts of their rape experiences and the medical evidence of post rape PTSD symptoms, you learn that you are not alone, and your own symptoms will feel less bizarre.

However, for elder women who are suffering the life-long effects of rape, the search for helpful information is difficult and discouraging. In my experience, you have to remain patient when exploring your symptoms and conducting research.

Sexual assault metabolizes into our bodies. Even decades later, rape survivors still suffer from PTSD’s long-term effects generated by their sexual assault. Without treatment, long-term Post Rape Stress Disorder symptoms can worsen over time. ‘Long-term’ can mean a lifetime of suffering. In Te’ora, I reference a study from the University Medicine Greifswald at the HELIOS Hansehospital Stralsund in Germany that discusses PTSD symptoms in elder women and how persistent these symptoms can be. 

The patriarchy shames us into silence. We are told to get over it, to put it behind us, to move on, and to never speak of rape. Shame makes us comply. With practice, we get really good at hiding our pain. 

The end of the cover-up begins when new traumas create small cracks in the steel barrier that hides dreadful memories crouched down in the dark, hidden places below conscious awareness. The new traumatic event can trigger the buried memory to squirm and push its tentacles out of hiding. Or perhaps we finally reach an age and stage and space of safety when we no longer need to focus on family and careers. As we now open to our own needs, the rape memory begins to release itself from its tight imprisonment.

Therapy helped me understand that my body was still holding emotional responses to being raped by a group of men at age 20. That attack, and other childhood and adult traumas, all inhabited my body, engendering complex PTSD which generated painful autoimmune disorders. As memories of the men who raped me began to flood my body 44 years after the assault, therapy provided a safe space for me to dig deeply into those images, instead of trying to make them go away.

Healing isn’t linear. After years of practicing healing modalities, the ebb and flow of symptoms can feel discouraging. If you’re experiencing persistent symptoms, or a new memory has resurfaced for you, please be gentle with yourself. You are not weak for having PTSD. While you might not be able to cure post-rape PTSD, you can still live a fulfilling, healthy life while gently managing the metabolic dysregulations engendered by post-traumatic stress.  

If you’re an elder woman, there’s no shame in speaking up and telling people what you need in order to heal more easily. I know it feels vulnerable. I’ve been there. But with the help of therapy, I found my strength. I took back the control I felt I had lost. 

You can do it. You can find your strength. In Te’ora’s epilogue, you will find a long list of post-rape PTSD symptoms on pages 355-356. PTSD patterns vary, and not everyone experiences the same symptoms. Some survivors experience challenges not included on the list. You will also find a list of healing modalities on pages 357-364.

Breaking your silence is deeply healing. We can all heal. It’s easier when we do it together.

Sharing our stories of survival and “thrival” with each other is a loving gift of support to all of us who walk this difficult path. If you feel comfortable doing, please share your story.

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