Mental Health Warrior: Rachel Thompson

rachelbooks

Empowermake (someone) stronger and more confident, especially in controlling their life and claiming their rights.

Award-winning Author Rachel Thompson is as selfless as she is courageous. Her advocacy work for sexual abuse survivors has opened the doors for countless victims to come forward and empower themselves, helping to affirm that they are not to blame for the horrific assaults that they have endured. As a survivor of child sex abuse herself, Rachel understands the devastation that a survivor lives with, and the psychological trauma that a person can endure. The healing process for someone who has been so abhorrently victimized can take a lifetime; Rachel helps people to find their path to healing. She is the creator and founder of  #SexAbuseChat, the live Twitter chat that she co-hosts with Bobbi Parish, a certified therapist, survivor and another amazing advocate. Rachel’s advocacy knows no limits. She volunteers her time for so many, including Stigma Fighters as their Director of Social Media. She is remarkable.

Rachel has worked her ass off to become as successful as she is, and she gives back a thousand times over. She shares her knowledge, advice, and wisdom with people out of sheer kindness; because she wants people to succeed. She has no ulterior motives for doing what she does. She is the creator of the hashtag phenomenon #MondayBlogs, which sole purpose, is to give bloggers a platform to showcase their blogs in a way that wouldn’t give them that kind of exposure. It’s amazing.

If I were to attempt to list all of Rachel’s accomplishments, I would end up with a blog post the length of a good size novel, but I have made sure to attach the links to highlight some of them for you. Thank you Rachel, for the things that you do for yourself and for so many others.

We’ve Lived In Shame Long Enough

By Rachel Thompson

Every morning, as I drive my child to school and back, I pass an old brown El Camino parked in a random driveway. My heart races as my foot accelerates. I can’t move fast enough past that foreign, yet familiar, car.

Innocence, sweet soft cheeks, I kiss my boy as he holds me tight before he turns to his friends, off for a day of fun and learning, imagination his natural ally. A dreamer, my boy. He loves to be my protector when it suits him, though dark, nighttime fears soon swallow him up and he snuggles tightly into me, afraid of the unknown, as he drifts off to sleep.

But I know.

The car reminds me, in its way, a daily symbol of the monster who lived next door, his El Camino parked in the driveway. I was barely older than my boy when the monster trapped me in his nest of scooter rides and lollipops, a daughter my age with an invitation to come over and play, a cold swimming pool on a brutally hot day. Opportunities.

Monsters know what children crave, and sadly, the reverse often becomes true.

I didn’t share what happened to me until I had to – sheriffs knocking at our door. I didn’t say anything then, either, because of the shame. Shame is a powerful emotion, stronger than fear. I often wonder what it takes to be a police officer, to coax a story out of child mired in shame so thick they reek of it, that child-like scent of innocence and purity you can smell in their sweet hair, gone.

What happened to you wasn’t as bad as what happened to the other, smaller girls.

There were trials – I testified twice – yes, twice. Civil and military, because he was an army officer and he carried a gun. Because I was old enough to testify, to verbalize what he had done. He went to jail for two years and lost his pension.

My family continued to live next door to them for many more years. I went to school with his children, even after he returned. A glass wall of silence shattered with glares of hate, as if I had done the crime. As soon as I could move out for college, I was gone.

In my strenuous ignorance in dealing with it all, I dissociated by immersing myself in athletics and school and boys and weed and – whatever could keep me busy. And numb. Flashbacks, nightmares, PTSD, panic – this was part of growing up, since I didn’t have names for these things.

Deal with it, it wasn’t that bad, it could have been worse.

College, career, marriage, children, divorce…it wasn’t until I gave birth to my first child that the depression and anxiety hit with a vengeance. What if the same thing happened to her? How could I keep her safe? I started to spin and eventually, became inconsolable, incapable of functioning outside of that mindset. I sought help. Thirty years after my experience with the monster, I finally, finally realized I needed help.

That child, my sweet loving, artistic daughter, is almost sixteen, and my boy is almost wow, ten. I am overprotective, and I’m okay with that. My children know I was sexually abused when I was eleven. They don’t know the extent because they don’t need to. They know I wrote two books (so far) about it, Broken Pieces and Broken Places, that I’m writing Broken People (all published by Booktrope). They know I started #SexAbuseChat on Twitter, and that I’m the director of the Gravity Imprint for Booktrope, bringing stories of trauma and recovery to life. It doesn’t really mean all that much to them, and that’s okay, too. “Mom is a writer and stuff,” my boy tells his friends.

It’s okay that they don’t really understand the gravity of everything that happened to me, because I want them to maintain their innocence for as long as they can. They still believe in Santa Claus, though my daughter is questioning the Easter Bunny (she calls him Sketchy Bunny). It’s good to laugh about such things.

There’s not always justice in this world. Monsters still exist, children are still abused. Awareness is greater now than when I was a kid, and if I have had some small part in that, whether it’s through my books, or being an outspoken advocate for children and survivors, then I’m honored.

All I know is that every survivor has a right to tell their story because we did nothing wrong. We’ve lived in shame long enough.

rachelbio

Rachel Thompson is an award-winning author, advocate, and a marketing genius. She is also the director of the Gravity Imprint for Booktrope, bringing stories of trauma and recovery (fiction and nonfiction) to life. She works with authors through her company BadRedheadMedia, where she teaches social media branding and marketing.

Rachel hates walks in the rain, running out of coffee, and coconut. She does have a fondness for Nutella. Rachel lives in California with her family.

With permission from Rachel, I am publishing her Media Kit with all of the ways that you can connect with her, including her Author Site, Personal & Business Twitter accounts, as well as her Facebook pages and links to so much more, please check it out.

Here is the Link to Rachel’s Award-winning books (with summaries) including, Broken Pieces, Broken Places, The Man Code, and, A Walk in the Snark.

9 thoughts on “Mental Health Warrior: Rachel Thompson

  1. Such a beautiful piece, Rachel. You brought me back in time to your horrible place and the secrets and lies that surrounded this once taboo subject. I understand about wanting to protect your children–sometimes I wish I could filter life to my son. It reminded me of a friend’s adult sister, who only now is able to speak out against a neighbor who abused her throughout her childhood. She told no one out of fear. You’ve given a voice to her and so many others by telling your story. I do love your storytelling style, Rachel, I suppose I’d be a fan even if you were writing about the phone book 😋.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you, Dori! I’m so honored to be here and share my story.

      It is hard to share my story, even still. I can totally empathize with your friend’s sister — going public with something has filled us with shame for so many years is terrifying. I still fight the ShameBot frequently. Those tapes from childhood are always running.

      Send her hugs and tell her she’s amazing. And same to you. xx

      Liked by 2 people

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