My Name is Stella

“I knew nobody had been seeing and IS seeing what was going on. I was convinced nobody would ever understand my side and would blame me.” Stock photo:


The point of realising what had happened to me over the last 10 months. The point of realising how BLIND I had been. And the point when it all broke down, my inner wall, the wall that had all the disgust and disbelief hidden deep down where my own consciousness wouldn’t see it. The moment I realized I hadn’t slept in months because I  actually was so strong-minded to push it out of my reality that I managed to disconnect me from myself. I was awake all the time, day and night to be prepared to not make a mistake, to try to understand, to be shaking my head not believing it and shaking the pictures of the happenings away, to keep me safe, to try to not get upset or affected of what had happened, to keep the truth away from me. I managed to push the things that happened down and classify as ‘that didn’t happen how could this possibly be happening in my world’.


My smile my humour, because I was puzzled and was trapped and being held captive in a fog. Moreover, I lost my smile because in a later stage I WAS figuring out what was happening and what had happened to ME MYSELF and I. I gave up my smile because I went to a dark place and wanted to hide, to be grey and not be seen. Now, finding my smile again, I realize how much I have MISSED it and how great but also very precious it is. I want to protect it forever.

Also, up until now, I have given up my beloved team colleagues at work including going to cool and fun team events I used to love. All because I had to isolate and was SO ashamed. I knew nobody had been seeing and IS seeing what was going on. I was convinced nobody would ever understand my side and would blame me.


I’m afraid that the scar won’t heal. There’s no milestone process, no “10 things that help dealing with when you realize YOU are a #metoo victim”. I’m afraid I will act out of rage and not be able to let it cool off and heal. I’m afraid I will want revenge. I don’t understand my emotions clearly yet.


I love people.

I got touched, kissed, he laid on me, he intruded my hotel room, laid next to me on the bed, couch, hugged me, came to close for a boss. Shockingly too many times, again and again, over months although I had said No. I said No in various versions: I explained; I left the situation; I froze while being kissed and having his wet lips pressed on mine; I laughed it off and left; I said “this is not good”, “I love my job and I don’t want to cross this border”; I begged for understanding in person and in text. And yet, those words counted as ‘Yes’.

I lost the trust in myself, in my appearance.
I feel guilty, I feel like I’m the one to blame.
I don’t give myself the right to be mad at him, although he misused his power and sexually assaulted me.


Yes. There will be.
I made myself promise that out of this pain and wound, a scar will grow. I scar I can return to when emotions come up again. I promised myself that the scar will be covered with a positive “tattoo”, a learning, a new positive skill.
It won’t remain an ugly deep scar that reminds me of nastiness and pain. It will be a tattoo that reminds me of that NEW skill I’ve learned.


A partner in crime girl-friend.
A friend that took my secret and keeps it safe like a treasure.