6. Hold On To The Light...

Leah shares her story of sexual assault through a speech she wrote in 2019 when she was asked to be the keynote speaker at the Centers Against Violence (formerly Women’s Aid in Crisis) 40th Anniversary Celebration in West Virginia.  Leah is a 2x rape survivor.  She received services from Women’s Aid in Crisis after her assaults and remains close to the advocate her walked with her as she healed from her trauma.  This speech was presented to advocates who work in the field for Centers Against Violence, and victims / survivors of sexual assault and domestic violence. Throughout the speech and throughout the episode, Leah shares details of her assaults - she also addresses the advocates and survivors in her speech directly.

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Transcript

Leah Wagner: 0:00

Hi, I'm Leah. 3 of my strongest skills include writing, speaking, and overthinking, and over-feeling literally everything in my life to a crazy, nuanced degree. I've decided to use these traits to create a podcast where you and I will share this space to talk about life and what makes it so tough sometimes, no matter what age or stage of life you're in. Welcome to The Leah Ideology Podcast. I'm your host, Leah Wagner. I'm so glad you're here. Hi, hi, hi, friend! Oh my gosh, I'm so glad that you are here. Thank you for returning thank you for coming back. That is such a huge compliment. It's so exciting for me that we were on Episode Six. Episode Number six, that is crazy to me, like six is basically you can round it up to 10. Right. And then 10 is half of 20. So 20 is almost 50. So guys, basically, we're like 100 episodes in. That's, I mean, if anybody wants to check my math, but we are, we are getting there. And we are getting it done. It's exciting for me. It's super fun. And I'm glad that you're here. And I'm glad that you're along for this ride. If this is your first episode with me, I am really, really glad that you decided to check us out. And I hope that you find some value in the episode that you feel that it's time well spent. And hopefully, you'll feel welcome to come back anytime. So we are going to jump right into the episode this week, but before we do, I do want to mention that you guys, I love hearing from you. I love hearing from you literally any time about literally anything. If you want to comment on something you heard on an episode or if you have some thoughts on what we can talk about in a future episode. Or if you have suggestions for the podcast just in general, I need you guys to know that I want to hear them. You can always find me on social media, I am on Facebook, you can search "The Leah Ideology Podcast," and I'll pop up. I am on Instagram, you can find me there @LeahIdeology. And I'm on Tik Tok, which is the same username as Instagram@LeahIdeology. I'm also going to jump onto Pinterest and give that a try, see what happens there. I've heard some good things about Pinterest. So I'm going to start posting the episodes over there and start posting some fun stuff over there as well. And you can find me on Pinterest @LeahIdeolgy as well. So I'm going to start sharing messages and comments that I get from you guys, because they're so great. And I want to give you some praise and give you some attention and give you some love. So I'm definitely going to start sharing those in future episodes. And I'm just really looking forward to what you have to say so that we can kind of grow and build together. So I think the best plan of attack for this episode is to just start I mean, the best way to get started is just to start, right, so let's do just that. This episode I feel needs to come with a PG 13 rating, okay, I feel like it also needs to come with a trigger warning, it's probably not the best episode for kiddos to listen in on. And also it could be a triggering episode for anyone who may be healing or may still need to heal from rape or sexual assault trauma. In this episode, I'm going to be sharing my story by sharing a speech that I wrote in 2019. I have spoken about this before in other ways than a podcast. This is the first time that I've shared it in such an intimate way. I think I'm just sitting here in a bedroom and sharing these words and I feel good about it. I feel like it's the right thing to do. And along the way as I've shared this story, many people have asked me how do you do this? How are you able to talk about all of this? And my answer is always the same. I have really three reasons why I talk about my past and why I talk about my story: And number one therapy, so much therapy, all the therapy and then more therapy. I would not be in a place in any kind of mentally healthy space to talk about this if I had not worked out so much in going to therapy so I cannot stress enough that this is years and years and years of hard work and years of thinking that you know the light was not going to come for me. So talking about it is, is a form of therapy for me and talking about it is healing for me. And in addition, I think talking about it is, is a connector for some people, you know, it's, there's power in that saying of"me too," right? So how can I

talk about this, number one: 5:20

therapy. I've done the work I've put in the, the time on working on myself, and I continue to do that. Number two, I believe fully that transparency is a beautiful thing. And I believe that right now we are in a time where transparency is not only beautiful, it is necessary. I think it allows us to learn and connect in ways that are shocking and familiar all at the same time, right? I think the human experience is so different. And yet so similar, and offering transparency allows us to get stronger, right? It allows us to band together, it allows us to stand next to each other, in support and in solidarity. And that transparency is needed for growing, right. Transparency is needed for growing, whether the relationship is with someone else or with ourselves, we can't grow without transparency. The third reason as to how I can talk about this, and why I talk about this is to educate and to bring awareness on a lot of

fronts: 6:36

how important a support system is, how traumatizing the legal process can be, how important it is to be raising a new generation, who will be able to differently define what it means to be a man and what power means, and how healing is possible, and how living is possible after the trauma. You know, all of those things, education, awareness, those kinds of things, I don't think we can have enough conversations about those kinds of things, right? So as you're listening to this episode, if you feel like we're getting too deep into something that might upset you, I want you to remember, you are absolutely under no obligation to listen to the episode, right? Don't jeopardize this being a safe space for you by listening to something that is going to upset you. Just pause it, just leave it, catch up with me next week. If this episode is proving to be too much, then go back and listen to episode number two. Because that's my direct message to you, the listener. Okay, remember to breathe. And remember to pause if you need to walk away. This is a recording. So you can listen anytime, it's not going anywhere. Take care of you, friend, be kind to you first. Finally, before we get started here, I want you to consider the audience for this speech. There were survivors in the room and there were also advocates in the room, advocates who go out into the field and work with victims on a daily basis. So my speech was geared towards those two types of people, victims and the advocates, okay, so just so that you kind of have a perspective on who I'm speaking to, as you listen to the speech. I wrote and presented this speech in the summer of 2019 to the Centers Against Violence at their 40th anniversary celebration, and I was asked to be their keynote speaker: I wish I could tell you that my story is unique, that my story is special because it has plot twists and suspense and characters who you think are bad, but actually turn out to be the hero. I wish I could tell you that my story is unlike everyone else's, but I can't. My story is, in fact, just like everyone else's - small town girl, big dreams, high expectations, goes off to school with plans to take on the world- if I could have, I would have majored in world domination. I met new people. I thought they were my friends. I made the common and tragic assumption that everyone's heart and everyone's intentions are as good as mine. And I was raped. Not once, but twice. By people I knew, by people I considered to be my friends.

Here's the thing: 10:06

I'm a "mind over matter," kind of girl. I believe that the mind the human mind, is one of the wildest and most powerful things in the world. It fascinates me to a mind boggling degree. So after the first rape, I told myself that all I needed to do was rise above it. I was the vice president of my freshman class, I had good grades, my professors loved me, and I loved them right back. So I felt like I had things going for me. And I wasn't about to let this ruin my party, I wasn't going to fuel this fire. And maybe, if we were characters in a story or actors in a movie, it would have worked out that way. And we would have all lived happily ever after. But that's not real life. Real life was having to call my dad the strongest and funniest and best man I know. And tell him that I had been raped. Real life is hearing him on the other end of the phone, exhale all of the oxygen from his lungs, while the news sunk in that his only daughter was assaulted in the most personal and vile way possible. Real life was attempting to still go to class and attempting to continue on with life, when it was near impossible to even find the energy to take a shower. Real life was over eating, eating, and eating and eating. Because if I was overweight and fat, no one would find me attractive. And therefore this kind of thing wouldn't have happened in the first place. Real life is having the president of the college sit down with me and my dad and make promises of how safe I was and how safe I will be on their campus, only to find out that one week later, one week later, the president who knew my attacker by name, personally selected him to participate in an on campus dais for new students to talk about Christian life on campus. Real life is trying to get on with your real life. And then I was raped again, one year later. The second rate was more aggressive, more forceful, more violent. It hurt. The first one I just cried and lay there begging him to stop. I was almost in a state of shock. The second one hurt. I was beat up. It was chaotic and frantic. There were two attackers, not just one. So even though I fought back with every ounce of strength I could muster, it didn't matter. I couldn't put up much of a fight against two college football players. And as I was sitting in the hospital, trying to make sense of how I got there in the first place. In walked my advocate from women's aid and crisis. Charlotte. I don't know what your higher beliefs are, whether you believe in God or karma or the universe or spirit - that's a personal choice and completely up to you. But in all those belief systems, there is a foundational belief that things don't just happen. That situations don't just happen. Meeting certain people doesn't just happen - that there's a higher power at work. Charlotte walking into my hospital room was my lifeline. She was the extension of strength and grace, my higher power was sending me. There are very few people like her. Someone who can stand strong when the world shows its ugliest parts. Someone who walks into unthinkable situations to offer care, support and love to a victim who feels less than human. Someone who walks towards the trauma, while the rest of us are trying to run away from it. Charlotte walked into my hospital room that day, and then didn't stop walking alongside me. Not even once. I moved home after my second rape and my parents got me to counseling and the therapy that I desperately needed. And we, and by "we," I mean, my parents, they wanted justice. We live in small town USA. So I think that we naively believe the best in things. We believed the college when they recruited me and they said that their campus was safe, and that their main focus was the safety and the well being of their students. We believed that. We believed the president of the college, and the dean of students when they said they were going to take my situation seriously, and that they were going to be personally invested to make sure that I would continue to thrive on their campus. We believed that. We believed that the truth was on our side, I heard my dad say it over and over and over again,"Honey, the truth is on our side, that's going to be enough." My dad is a doer. He doesn't sit still very well. He's the guy who is on all the committees at church. He is active in the community. He always has a project. So once I moved home, and once we moved forward with the lawsuit, my dad was on a mission to get justice for his daughter. He was making weekly trips to West Virginia, to meet with school officials only to be met with closed doors. He visited the room where I was attacked, and found used condoms on the heating vents. He knocked on doors. He made phone calls, he demanded to be seen, and he was met with resistance and annoyance, and sometimes even name calling. He was exhausted. Those trips broke his spirit, which was hard to watch because as his daughter, I have always seen my dad as invincible. And during those times when he was crumbling, when he would pull his car off the road because he was crying. He would call Charlotte. He was working so hard to be my advocate that sometimes he needed to call on an advocate. And Charlotte would sit on the phone with him and she would simply be there with him. She wouldn't multitask, she wouldn't put him on hold. She didn't offer any suggestions. She didn't offer any false hope. She simply took the time to sit and exist with him. One of the hardest things we faced during the lawsuit was my deposition. We sat down with my lawyers and the school's lawyers and I was asked questions while being tape recorded, video recorded and recorded by a stenographer. My deposition alone lasted for more than 24 hours over the span of three days. And on the first day before my deposition began, I was sitting in the waiting area with my parents, and my lawyers walked in. And the schools lawyers walked in alongside them- bringing along my two attackers, the schools lawyers were representing them as well. We knew this was a possibility, that my rapists would be in the room when I was deposed. But we honestly didn't think it would actually be a reality, and we were shocked when it was. My parents had to stand there and watch while those men walked past me smiling. And then they had to let me go in the room to do my deposition, where those guys stared me down the whole time. All 24 hours. We have been through it. We have felt all the emotion there is to feel and I'm often asked, "How did you make it through at all? What was your focus? How did you not fall apart?" And my answer

is this: 19:08

I did fall apart all the time. I struggled with deep clinical depression, and I still do. I had a horrible plummet of self worth and dated all the wrong guys, some of whom were abusive. I dabbled in questionable activities. Trust me, I get the downward spiral the demented rabbit hole, the point of no return that you reach when this kind of trauma finds its way into your life. I get it. The difference for me? What saved me? What brought me back to life was the support that I had from my family, and from Charlotte, and from the Women's Aid in Crisis. I was fortunate, I was one of the fortunate ones, I was always believed. Charlotte told me repeatedly how blessed I am to have a family who supports me. And that many, the majority of people who are raped, have no one. I was always supported. And support can come in so many different forms, right? My dad, for example, was on a crusade for justice, while Charlotte would call me simply to remind me to eat that day, or she would call to see if I had showered that week. And when I said no, she wasn't disgusted or grossed out. Offering support and offering love comes with meeting people where they are. And some days I couldn't pull myself up off the floor. So Charlotte would come and sit with me. Some days, I wanted to just cry or feel numb. And Charlotte was there to cover me with blankets when I fell asleep in bizarre places. Charlotte chose to live for me when I didn't have the life in me to do it myself. So, to the advocates in the room: to those who work in the field for centers against violence, I want you to know that I see you. Your work, what you choose to do every single day takes you to some of the darkest places that most people will never see. And thank God, most people couldn't do what you do day in and day out. So, to you the advocates, I say this to you. I see you. I see you. And I acknowledge that your good days are still worse than anyone's average that day. You are the ones who bring hope to places and to people who feel completely hopeless. You are the ones who dig to find strength within yourself so that you can be strong for those who can't be strong for themselves. You are the ones who take your work home with you, and cry because your willingness and determination to be strong for the victims is big, but the humaneness in your hearts is even bigger, and just as real. You are the ones who know the power of the unspoken word, you are the ones who know that something as simple as a hug can be viewed as an act of love, or as an all out attack. And you have the compassion and the wisdom and the discernment to know the difference. You are the holders and the carriers of the flame. You are the one who will walk through a hell that isn't yours, just so someone doesn't have to walk through their own hell alone. You are the enemies of loneliness. You do what you do not for the glory, because there isn't any glory to be had is there? You do what you do because you have a gift inside of you a gift that can connect to another human spirit, and then help heal it. You are healers of the human spirit. You are the ones that make a difference. You are the ones who have changed, who are changing, and who will continue to change the world because as long as there are bad people out there doing bad things, you are proof that there are good people out there doing good things. You. You are the good people. I know that using the word celebration might not seem to fit for an evening like this. I'm sure I speak for everyone here when I say that if we could shut down the centers against violence because there isn't a need for them anymore. We would all be much happier and have a much bigger reason to celebrate. But the need is there. The bad people do exist and will continue to exist. So the work you do is crucial and you deserve to know and hear that you are making a difference. That we are thankful that you are answering the call to help. Not everyone can do what you do. And you do it everyday, and because of your dedication, and your tenacity, and your grit, and the fire in your bellies, and the power in your love, you are making a difference. And we see you. To the victims and the survivors: I have good news and I have bad news. The bad news is that it happened. It happened. And there's nothing we can do to go back and change it, or undo it, or erase it from our memories. It's part of our story now. But here's the good news. It happened, and you are not alone. You are just as valuable, and just as worthy, and just as deserving of love as you were before it happened. Just because someone didn't see your worth doesn't mean that you don't have any. I'm here to tell you that there is light on the other side. There is light on the other end of this horribly dark, treacherously sick and abysmally maddening tunnel. There is light. There is always light. We just can't always see it. And that's okay. We just need to know that it's there, and that it exists. Life is such a beautiful and precious thing. Yes, even though this happened. And even though we have to navigate through the tough emotions, the dark thoughts and the hard things, I believe it can still be beautiful. Trust me, and hear me when I say that this awful, terrible, unfair thing that happened to you does not define who you are. And it doesn't deserve the power to rule over your life. Don't let it play mind games with you. You are worthy of love. You are worthy of healing. And you are worthy of living a life on the other side of this trauma. Interestingly enough, both my attacks took place on the same date one year apart. October 13, 2002 and October 13, 2003. There was a time in my life when I thought that October 13 would be a day that I would hate forever. There was a time when I thought that this day would bring nothing but anger and resentment and uncomfortableness and tears. I would think to myself that maybe if I just ignored all of my emotions, maybe if I could just find a way to erase my memory, or find some sort of memory reset button, then I wouldn't have so much anxiety when October 13 started approaching. But instead, something else happened. Something beautiful happened. I survived. With the unconditional love and support that I had from those who loved me. I not only survived, I thrived. I chose to move on. I chose to live. I chose to stand up and take my life back. I chose to let my heart love again. I chose to forgive. I chose to laugh. I can't change the fact that I am a victim of rape. I can't change the fact that it happened to me twice. But I can choose to live in a way where that negative dark space doesn't consume me. In my family, I am the oldest amongst my generation amongst the kids generation. I have a younger brother. And I have two younger cousins who are really more like siblings. They are the reasons that I chose to stand up and live again. I knew that one day they would hear the story of what happened. And rather than be sad, I want them to look at me as somebody that they are proud of, a person of strength and grace, a fighter. So October 13, is no longer a day about defeat or victimization. It's about how far I've come. I'm a mom, now. I'm a daughter, I'm a sister, I'm a cousin a niece, a friend - life can be good. Life can be so, so good when we hold on to the light. And we know that fighting back, and fighting for ourselves, and fighting for the wholeness of our humaneness is not just an option for us. It's a priority. To Charlotte and the advocates at Centers Against Violence: You saw me through my darkest days, and my ugliest moments and your only response was to extend love and patience and compassion and grace. You stood by my side in my loneliest moments, and you are strong for me and for my family, when we were brought to our knees because we couldn't take any more. You are the sole reason I believe that angels do walk on this earth. You are the reason I get to live this beautiful life, because it was you who always believed that I could. I do want to offer you some closure on my story. I know I didn't fully offer that in the speech that I wrote and gave in 2019, but I do want to offer you some closure so that you kind of have the full story. The lawsuit that I was involved with went on for about two years. I had a team of lawyers in Pittsburgh and a team of lawyers in West Virginia. And they were amazing and kind and they defended me and protected me to the very best of to the very best of their abilities. I can remember when I walked into the deposition, and we saw that the school brought by attackers, it was, it was instant, they all lined up and immediately formed a wall around me to make sure that I felt protected and safe. They were always very mindful of, of those kinds of moments for me where I might be overwhelmed, or I might be feeling a little bit anxious. They were always in tune to that with me. So they were amazing. We settled out of court in the winter of 2005. So it didn't actually go to a court setting we settled outside of court, I received a payment of barely enough to cover, like, one year of college, I certainly didn't like strike it rich and own my own private island off of some coast. That would be amazing. But that's not what happened. And honestly, I mean, I could have kept fighting that was that was definitely an option. Right? I could have kept going. I could have taken on everybody and their brother and taken everybody to court. And I just didn't I just didn't want to, I could have taken a school, I could have taken my attackers. I just didn't have it in me anymore. I felt like I was depleted of everything that made me human. After two years of lawyers and phone calls with lawyers, and meetings with lawyers, and paperwork with lawyers, and two years of having every detail of my past dug up and analyzed, two years of losing friends because being my friend was too much of a liability. There were friends that went to that school and who were on scholarship and I was suing the school. So being my friend was was dangerous, and you know, it was it was a liability for them. So I lost many people who I thought were friends and turned out not to be. There was two years of just trying to make it minute by minute without falling apart. So I made the decision to settle out of court. I just wanted it to be done and I wanted a chance to move on. There were some changes made at the school in regards to safety, but nothing that was exceptionally notable nothing that was super crazy. And the males who raped me received no punishment for what they did. I am still in touch with Charlotte. She is still perfect and is still an angel. She is one of the most special people in my life and my relationship with her is I would describe it as sacred. To tell you how grateful I am for her is like trying to tell you how hot the sun is or how wet water It's just, it's so immense, and it's so deep and it's so full, it's, she is a very special human to me, and will always be forever and ever. Believe it or not, I have actually forgiven the men who have assaulted me, it took a very long time, it took a lot of therapy, it took a lot of digging deep inside of me, right, to make a conscious decision about what I want to take space inside of me and I decided that I didn't want to live with that kind of anger in my body. I can't walk around with that kind of heavy weight on me. And to be clear, that forgiveness wasn't for them, it was for me. It was so that I could move on. I don't want to live a life where I'm tethered to demons and tethered to heavy things, right? I want to live this wild and full life and I can't do that if I'm allowing anger, and resentment and revenge to live inside me rent free. So I did the work, right, I felt the feelings I let it play out inside of me. And at the end, I chose to forgive and live on. That doesn't mean that I don't think about what happened or still have trauma responses, I do. It just means that instead of being focused on them, and the anger and the hurt and the pain that they caused me, I'm focused on healing me. I'm focused on healing, the anger and the pain and the hurt, so that I can live on. It's not easy, right? Both options, whether I choose to live with the anger and resentment, or whether I choose to live in a healing mindset, both take up space inside of me and both are going to require work from me, right? So since both are hard, and both are going to require a certain amount of effort from me, I might as well pick the heart that is worth fighting for, right? The one that's going to bring me closer to my truest and most authentic self, the one that is going to make me feel human and whole again. We've all been there. Sometimes it's easier to be angry and easier to live in resentment. But what if we just shift the perspective a little bit and change it from anger and resentment to healing and living, right? When we're faced with that choice, I know how hard that decision can be. This is one of those things, right? This is one of those things that makes life hard sometimes, this is one of those things that picks us up and spins us around like a piece of debris in a tornado, we spin and we spin and we spin and then we try to get our feet back on the ground and we don't know how to take the first step, let alone take the right step in the right direction. I understand what that feels like. Sharing my story with you isn't a, "I can do it, so can you," speech. I honestly can't think of a phrase that is more infuriating than that. This is definitely not what that is. That's not what we do here. Sharing my story with you is an offering of connection. It's an offering of perspective. It's a voice saying, "I, too, have walked through hard times. And I remember what that feels like. So now I'm here to let you know that you don't walk alone." It's the image of someone making it to the next step, the next rung of the ladder, but then reaches down to help you up to that's what this is. That's what we do here. That's what this space is for. We talk about the hard things we learn from each other. And without question, we root for each other along the way. I wanted to wrap up this episode with the same poem I used to conclude the speech for centers against violence. It's written by Jack Raymond one of my most favorite authors. Jay Raymond

writes: 39:25

I love the way she survived. Survival looked good on her. There were no dark masks under her eyes, maybe deep inside, but I liked the way she looked through them and laughed at life. She did it gracefully. She walked over glass and through Hell's fire, but still found a way to smile. And honestly, I'm not interested in people who haven't lived and died a few times, who hasn't yet had their heart ripped out, or knows what it feels like to lose absolutely everything on the inside. I trust those people because they stand for something. I knew what she'd been through. And I wanted to thank her for surviving. And for her to know that she now had someone willing to stand with her, too. Whew, what an episode, right? Thanks for hanging in there with me. But do me a favor, ok? This is really, really, important. Wherever you're listening to this podcast, whether it's Apple podcasts, Spotify iHeartRadio, please be sure to subscribe and rate the podcast. It's super important for the algorithms and the reach that this podcast could potentially have, so we really appreciate it if you take the time to do that. New episodes of The Leah Ideology Podcast are released every Wednesday, and in the meantime, you can find me on Facebook, Instagram, Pinterest, or Tik Tok. Or you can visit my website

at: 41:07

www.theleahideologypodcast.com Thanks again for spending some time with me and until we get to hang out again. It's important that you know that I am rooting for you. I'll see you next week.