A Survivor's Voice
For years, I stayed quiet. Not just because I was afraid—but because society conditions survivors to feel like our pain is a burden. We're taught not to make people uncomfortable. We're told to move on, stay strong, don't make a scene. And when we do speak out, we're often met with judgment, doubt, or blame. Not because I didn’t have anything to say—but because I was taught that silence was safer.
After the abuse. After the trauma. After the accident. I carried so many stories in my chest that I could barely breathe.
And when I did try to speak, people got uncomfortable. Or they minimized it. Or they changed the subject. I remember once, years back, I was on my way home from a work function in the Springs. I decided to stop by the bar where my brother worked just to say hi. What I didn’t know was that while I was there, my drink had been drugged. I left intending to head home, but the next thing I remember, I was on the rooftop of a high-rise building with three men. I knew something terrible was about to happen—and I genuinely believed I might not survive that night.
When I was finally able to escape the horrifying situation—hours upon hours later, after surviving things I can barely bring myself to comprehend—I went home and collapsed in the bottom of the shower, sobbing uncontrollably.I stayed there for what felt like hours, trying to scrub off the guilt and fear and shame. I blamed myself for stopping there at all. I felt stupid, broken, and terrified.
Months later, when I finally found the courage to confide in someone I thought was a friend, their response was, essentially, "Well, it sounds like you put yourself in that situation." I can’t remember the exact words, but I remember thinking, That sounds like something a rapist would say. That moment silenced me all over again—and I never really talked to that person much after that. I started to believe that maybe my pain was too much. That I was too much.
But here's what I've learned: Silence might feel safe… but it's not the same as healing.
Healing happened when I finally started using my voice. When I stepped on stages and into rooms full of strangers. When I stopped whispering my story and started owning it.
It happened when I looked someone in the eye and said, "Me too," and they didn't flinch.
It happened when I said, "This happened to me," without shrinking.
Now I speak on panels across Colorado and at conferences nationwide. I talk about domestic violence, sexual violence, trauma bonding, grief, and healing. Trauma bonding, in particular, is something many people don’t understand. It’s when your brain confuses abuse for love—when the same person who hurts you is also the one who comforts you afterward. You start to cling to the highs because the lows are so unbearable. It’s emotional manipulation at its most dangerous, and it's so subtle that many victims don’t even realize it’s happening. I've lived that. I’ve made excuses for people who hurt me because I was addicted to the moments they made me feel loved. Recognizing that pattern was one of the first steps in breaking it.
Not because it’s easy—but because I know what it's like to feel alone in your story. And I want to be the voice I needed when I was silent.
Speaking out gave me my power back. Not because it erased the pain—but because it reminded me I wasn’t the only one feeling it.
So if you're holding your story in your chest, wondering if it's too heavy to share— Know this:
Your voice is medicine. Not just for you, but for the next person who hears it and finally feels less alone.
You don’t have to tell it all today. But when you’re ready—I hope you share it.
Because your voice matters. And the world needs your truth.
If you're not ready to share your story with the world, that's okay. But know that you never have to carry it alone.
If you need a safe space to be heard—raw, unfiltered, and without judgment—I'm here.
You can book a one-on-one session with me through Real Talk with Christina. It's not therapy. It's connection. It's a space where your truth is safe.
Visit www.ChristinaRanee.com/realtalkwithchristina to book your session.
With love,
Christina