Rage and Rebirth: Reclaiming Power After Re-Trauma

Trigger Warning: This post discusses themes of sexual assault, trauma, and emotional distress. Please read with care and prioritize your well-being.

oday, I came home on a Saturday and found a man standing at the entrance to my house. He was wearing shoes and just staring at me. At first, I didn’t recognize him.

Then he looked at me with a vacant stare and said, “We know each other. An encounter that wasn’t very pleasant.”

Only then did it hit me. He was the man who raped me two years ago.

In a state of semi-freeze and shock, my body exhausted from the trauma I had experienced the day before, I managed to squeeze out the words, “Not very pleasant,” and quickly walked inside.

What is he doing here?In my home.Why now?What is this sign?

When the overwhelming wave of emotions started to hit me, tears started to rise. I knew I needed to act, so I chose to leave everything and do some emotional release exercises to keep the trauma that resurfaced from staying stuck in my body.

It helped. I found myself channeling through my body the rage and deep pain that had been building up inside me.

On one hand, I’m proud of myself for the path I’ve taken since then: reconnecting with my emotional body, allowing space for anger, pain, and the loss of choice over my own body. I’m proud that I chose to move into my body and release it immediately.

But on the other hand, I’m filled with rage, and I have no idea what to do with it.

I cried in my backyard on this beautiful Saturday, pounding a pillow, trembling. Meanwhile, he went off to hike in the forest with his friends, as if what had happened between us was just a “not-so-pleasant experience.”

It was like spilling coffee two years ago when we met, and now, just another “memory” for him.

Only six months ago could I finally say, out loud and unapologetically, “It was rape.”

Before that, I thought maybe it wasn’t "real" rape. After all, I had agreed to be sexual with him and his partner. We had a boundary-setting conversation, and I made it clear that penetration was a boundary. I could have stopped him, but I froze.

The emotional flood came, and I thought I was over it. I’ve done so much healing—therapy, psychedelic experiences, spiritual practices to cope with trauma and vulnerability.

But today’s rage—it’s not just about that interaction. It’s a rage that goes far beyond that moment, a rage that rises from all the countless moments where I and so many others have been asked to lower our heads and smile through boundary violations, objectification, and inequality.

It’s the rage that I carry for every time society and men like him have reduced us to objects, just like the process we did to wolves throughout evolution until today, where we have sweet, obedient pets.

This is just me releasing it. Maybe it resonates with you, and maybe you know a way to handle an experience like this.

I am grateful for every scar, every fracture, and deep break life has given me—even this one. These wounds have brought me to where I am today.