Places of support

On a chilly autumn night in 2020, at around 3 a.m., I walked home talking to my phone. I’d taken to recording my thoughts and feelings. I wasn’t in the head space to write properly, and talking was freer, less thought out, it had an openness to it that writing didn’t.

I’d spent the evening with a close friend, and due to the amount of wine and pizza we’d consumed, I was warmed from the inside out. Mel is unique amongst my friends, we’re a lot alike. We’ve both also suffered trauma at the hands of another, although in completely different ways, the thing that remains the same is other people’s reactions to hearing about it.

When I told her about my experience, and she told me about hers, both of us said things like, “Go on…” and “What happened then?” neither of us was shocked at what the men in our lives had been capable of, even though we were shocked about their actions. So often when talking about bad life experiences, people cry at me. I guess I should say ‘for me’, but it doesn’t feel like it’s for me. It feels like my life is so horrible, that I’m making the person in front of me cry, simply by having lived through what someone else wanted to do to me.

As I walked and talked into my phone camera, something occurred to me. The silence and undue shame we hold, only serves to isolate us more. The reaction of other people, those tears, or the horror in their eyes, or even how their so lost for words they have to change the subject just so they can say something.

There are of course organisation and other people you can speak to. Friends and family are great, but they aren’t going to be able to say the things that you may need to hear.

You might be surprised that I mention the police first, but from my experience they are simply amazing at how they treat and support people reporting abuse. So the first person or group to speak to is the police. If you choose to report what’s happened to you, then you will have a lead detective as a point of contact, otherwise known as an STO, a Specially Trained Officer. You can at the point of reporting ask that the officer is a specific sex, if you’re more comfortable speaking to a woman or a man, but that request can’t always be accommodated due to staffing. My STO, Ross, was a great big hulk of a man. Shoulders so wide I think I saw him turn sideways to fit in the corridor. He was so big and imposing, I could barely make eye-contact with him, and chose to spoke to the other officer. He was the opposite of Ross. Small, softly spoken, so pale I could nearly see through him. But by the end of our first meeting, Ross had won me over. There was something in him that reminded me of my husband, and that made me relax enough to be able to look him in the eye.

Ross was there for me, in person or on the phone, throughout the entire process. Not just for the official things, and explaining what the next steps would be, or why we were still waiting for the CPS. But also when I’d got myself so wound up in my own thoughts I just needed to talk. He said something to me recently, when I was talking about the waves of anxiety I was having, post-trial. “This was never going to fix you. Only you can fix you.” And that was just the directness I needed to hear. It shut off the delusion that a conviction would be complete closure for me, and somehow fix things. It made me focus back on myself, and helped with the waves of anxiety I was having.

RASAC

It stands for Rape and Sexual Abuse Centre. They have offices up and down the country, and are linked with, but not part of the police. They are a specialist support service offering everything from accompanying you during the reporting process, up to counselling and emotional support.

They were invaluable to me, for simple things like telling me what to say if I did want to report to the police, “I wish to report a historic sex crime.” Through to being on the end of a phone when I was in floods of tears before giving my statement.

Doing the job they do, means they aren’t surprised by anything in anyway, which made me feel more normal. And whilst I was talking to them, they asked questions that started me down the road to feeling less shameful. They also provided me with digital copies of well written documents that detailed the entire process, from reporting, all the way through to court. They gave me an idea of what would, or could, happen if I called the police, and the journey it would be.

www.revival-wiltshirerasac.org.uk

This is the web address for the branch that covers Swindon and Wiltshire. There are other branches up and down the country.

Safeline

Safeline operate a national helpline. A national male helpline. And a Warwickshire and Coventry helpline. I first contacted them using the text service they offer. I’d already called the police, and I had the unwavering care and support of my sister, but I had thoughts in my head that I didn’t want to say out loud.

Safeline’s services are in greater demand than their funding allows them to cover. And so they offer each person an hour of contact a week. You can use that hour on the text line, or on the phone.

As well as support and allowing me to say the things I needed to, they also offer counselling services. You don’t need to have reported the crime against you to the police to speak to them, but they will support you through that process if you chose to.

There are many more groups and agencies out there, these are just the three that I had direct contact with. If you know others, please leave details of them in the comments section. Or send me a message and I will add them. You posting something may end up being the lifeline that someone else needs.

www.safeline.org.uk

Their general enquiries telephone number is 01926 402 498