Author: Mieke V.
Photographer: Kat Alyst
After being raped, I felt afraid of my own body. Seeing myself naked caused flashbacks. So I closed my eyes when I changed, I started sleeping in pyjamas, and never thought about sex. I was barely there, going through my days dissociated and terrified of every man I encountered. I grieved for years about what he took from me, and how he warped my idea of what intimacy and love meant.
There are many powerful moments in these almost 10 years of healing, but one of my first baby steps was about reclaiming my own body.
But also, when I looked down at my breasts, all I saw was him.
When I was 20 and freshly in university, I was referred to a therapist known for trauma work. It was the first time I told my story to someone who didn’t already know me, and I was relieved when a neutral party confirmed to me that what happened truly wasn’t okay.
During those therapy sessions, I slowly decided to fight back and become an ally of my own body. I had been thinking about getting my nipples pierced for a while. I mostly considered getting the piercing because it was seen as both scandalous and sexy by society — two things I aimed to be at that time. But also, when I looked down at my breasts, all I saw was him. Maybe if they looked different, I could look at them again.
So I got them pierced with gorgeous purple barbells. I was proud of myself for getting them; they helped ground me within my body. Keeping them clean and upgrading the jewelry became part of my self-care. Those piercings felt like I was decorating myself, giving an offer to a worthy temple.
Yes, I felt broken — sexually and emotionally — but those little barbells were proof that I was still worth something.
It also was a good conversation topic when sex felt difficult with someone. At least I had these brazen sexy piercings to show off and direct attention towards. They became a shield I protected myself with. Yes, I felt broken — sexually and emotionally — but those little barbells were proof that I was still worth something. They were an anchor in the dark sea of my mind.
However, after six years I’ve also discovered the physical and emotional downsides. It’s true what they say — nipple piercings never really heal. The little crusties and occasional pus were not a cute look. Snagging them in the shower or the pain when someone bumped into me sucked. In my depressive periods or during other mental health struggles it often felt like yet another failing when they didn’t look perfect. When it came to my trauma, they represented a double-edged sword.
My nipple piercings signified the start of a journey back towards myself and have caused many moments of empowerment. They also helped me find my extroversion again and gave me a sexual handhold when I felt I had none.
However, in the last year, I’ve realized they also represent how I’ve held onto the pain of what happened to me. I’ve spent the last six years in therapy as if it was a part-time job. I was so focused on healing because I was angry that a horrible time in my life had so much power over me.
I no longer need a fierce claim over my body, because I’m no longer terrified to share it with someone else.
Therapy helped me to an extent, but forcing yourself to heal doesn’t magically fix everything. I drowned myself in my sorrows, in the hope that feeling them would lead to my salvation. I thought, “Maybe if I felt it enough, if I sat with my pain and my brokenness long enough, it would dissolve.” But I continue to live with some of the consequences of that time in my life even now.
However, after six therapists, antidepressants, EMDR, and countless hours of crying and guilt I’m now finally at the point where I’m ready to let it go. I still struggle, but I’ve learned to love myself for what I am capable of.
Today, I meet myself where I’m at. I guide myself through the panic attacks that occur when I try something new sexually. I’m honest about what feels comfortable to do and I allow that to be enough. I love my own body dearly most days. I sit with my feelings and I’m proud of all the small ways in which I show up for myself.
So this is my next big step. I’m letting go of that shield on my chest. I no longer need a fierce claim over my body, because I’m no longer terrified to share it with someone else.
I can let other hands roam freely and I use my no’s when needed. On good days, I’m past the guilt around not wanting sex at all times. But I know for sure that I don’t need shiny sexy nipples as a distraction from my limitations anymore. I’ll never forget what these piercings did for me and why I got them. But just like the pain, I’m now choosing to let it go.
About the Author:
Mieke V. is a 26 year old non-binary person from Antwerp, Belgium. They love creating through paintings, words and mixed media. They’re also an avid singer in a queer choir. You can often find them at thriftstores, in nature or cuddling with a dog. They are very passionate about mental health and try to educate those around them. Donations welcome at paypal.me/SparkleBabyy