My healing journey began aged 35, almost two decades after I was a victim of acquaintance rape as a student. I repressed the memories for nearly 20 years before terrifying flashbacks, nightmares and debilitating panic attacks made life unbearable, and I sought help from psychotherapist Paddy Magrane. At the time I didn鈥檛 think about the fact that he was male. I thought of counselling as an extension of the medical profession, and most of my doctors were men. I thought that I鈥檇 turn up and he鈥檇 fix me. In hindsight that seemingly unconscious decision proved to be hugely restorative.
Our first session did not get off to the best start. Paddy was delayed, arriving about 10 minutes after our scheduled time, and in his absence I was stung by a hornet. Despite the inauspicious beginning we finally sat down 鈥� me, squirming on his sofa, and Paddy, seemingly calm as he explained how the process worked. Eventually he kindly asked, 鈥楢nd what has brought you here today?鈥櫬�
After years of being silenced and dismissed by disbelieving friends and medical professionals, I鈥檇 finally found someone who genuinely wanted to listen 鈥� but my silence was so deeply ingrained I could not find the words to speak. Having experienced the worst of humanity, trusting again felt like tiptoeing through a field of shattered glass, each step cautious and measured. In the beginning of therapy I was almost mute, communicating by handing Paddy notes I鈥檇 written on my phone, unable even to make eye contact.聽
But Paddy鈥檚 fierce compassion was persistent, which often left me irritated and exasperated. He worked hard to win my trust and I slowly learned to feel safe within the therapeutic relationship, sharing my story in a way that did not retraumatise 鈥� at first through written notes and accounts, then by talking. Gradually we built an alliance strong enough to withstand the ruptures聽that inevitably occur in a therapeutic relationship. But for the majority of my time in therapy I just wanted not to have been assaulted. I tried suppressing, ignoring, denying, reframing 鈥� anything to avoid acknowledging the reality. I even argued with Paddy as he challenged me to recognise my internal misogyny and the myths I held surrounding rape. As we explored feelings of shame, self-blame, anger and denial, I made progress, but after nearly two years I found myself stuck, questioning my memories. I became convinced that physically returning to the city where the rapes had occurred would somehow give me the answers I was seeking.
I began researching and came across research about clients participating in site visits as part of trauma-focused CBT for post-traumatic stress disorder.1 It gave me hope that going back to the place of my trauma might be the missing piece in my recovery.聽
In 2020, after extensive preparations, Paddy and I travelled more than 100 miles together to my university town. The experience was transformative, with the flashbacks and nightmares ceasing immediately. I felt compelled to share it in the hope of giving others a sense of healing and hope.聽
Inspired by my healing I retrained as a counsellor, wanting to provide others with the same support Paddy had given me. Once robbed of a voice, I was now helping others find theirs. I began to wonder how my journey had impacted Paddy, and while there are countless survivor stories and books written from therapists鈥� perspectives I found nothing that bridged both viewpoints. Some time after my final session as a client I contacted Paddy to see whether he鈥檇 be interested in co-writing about our trip. The resulting book allowed us to explore the impact that our work together had on Paddy as well as me, and how the process shaped us both in ways we could not have imagined. It鈥檚 a story of hope and bravery, and of finding light in the darkest of times.聽
