Me, Too: Voicing My Story

By Olivia Castetter and Katherine Turner

Since 2006, the MeToo Movement has been rocking society, shedding light on the pervasive and growing darkness of hidden sexual abuse and assault. Olivia, like many when they discovered it, found herself an avid supporter of both the movement and the women who were coming forward with their stories. And like many, she still struggled to use those

• Language: English
• Publisher: Josha Publishing
• Release date: Jan 13, 2022
• ISBN: 9781955735001

Olivia Castetter

Olivia Castetter is the author of the Too Much memoir collection, as well as various other fiction and nonfiction pieces. In addition to writing and editing literary works that focus on trauma, abuse, and life as a survivor, she advocates for policy changes for sexual abuse survivors. In her spare time, she can be found exploring nature, learning about conservation at the zoo with her family, or nurturing her pollinator garden. Olivia lives in the Louisville Metropolitan area with her husband, two children, and an eclectic collection of pets. You can follow her journey and learn more about her various social projects on her website, www.oliviacastetter.com.

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FOREWORD

In 2019, I created my author Twitter account. I was skeptical of making any lasting connections. I mean… how can you trust people who maybe aren’t even displaying real photos of themselves? But I was determined to give the platform an honest effort and to open my mind to possibilities I maybe couldn’t yet discern.

One of those possibilities ended up being to hire a proofreader for my first novel, Finding Annie. That proofreader was Olivia. I’d followed her and read some of her book recommendations as well as her Green Hills series of short stories and thought she might be a good fit; not just for proofreading my novel, but as my blog editor, though I wasn’t sure. Frankly, I don’t think I would have been sure about anyone at that time; my novel was as close to my own life story as I’d ever been public with before, and my fear and anxiety over that seeped into everything I was doing. She later told me she’d also been a little unsure about me and my book because of how many stories claim to realistically depict life after trauma and instead glamorize it.

She offered—and I accepted—a simultaneous complimentary edit to Finding Annie so I could get a feel for her editing style, and I shipped off my manuscript to her, nervous as I was every time I sent it to someone new. When she sent back my manuscript and her editorial letter a few weeks later, I devoured everything she had to say.

And then I cried.

A lot.

She gets it, I thought as my tears wet my face. She gets the whole point of this book, exactly what I’m trying to do with Annie’s story. What I want to do for survivors, what I want to do for their loved ones, what I want to do for society. Turned out she was thinking the exact same thing about my book—that I got it—because she has her own long and complicated history with varying types of trauma and abuse.

A little over two years have passed since she sent that email to me, and in that time, she has worked with me for various writing projects, from blog posts to articles to books. She has been there to provide gentle guidance and emotional support as I toiled through my first memoir. As I revisited experiences I wish I’d never had in order to share them with the world, she was right there by my side no matter what I needed. Encouraging me. Supporting me. Inspiring me.

I’m humbled by Olivia’s story, her perseverance when it would have been easier to give up. I’m awed by her strength and her courage, her determination to persist through the painful task of healing. I’m privileged to be able to witness her growth and transformation, and I’m downright honored to be a part of her story of overcoming the atrocities she’s survived and using that story in order to help others.

I think back often to how I met her on Twitter, how I had absolutely no idea how important she’d become in my life. No idea what an impact I would have on hers. I think about how it never would have happened if I hadn’t chosen to open my mind to something I was normally averse to (social media). Just as it never would have happened if she hadn’t chosen to do the same about my manuscript, deciding to give my story a chance.

She never expected it, but because she was open-minded, I profoundly impacted her life for the better. Likewise, I never expected it, but because I was open-minded, she has profoundly impacted my life for the better.

And now you have the chance for her, through her story on the following pages, to profoundly impact yours as well.

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Katherine Turner is an award-winning author who is passionate about improving the world through literature, empathy, and understanding. In addition to writing books, Katherine blogs about mental health, trauma, and compassion on her website www.kturnerwrites.com. She lives in northern Virginia with her husband and two children.

When a person is sexually assaulted, we are all harmed.

Alex A.G. Taub, educator

SO WHAT?

Since July of 2019, I have worked as a book editor, specializing in developmental editing and sensitivity reading for stories of abuse and assault survival, both fiction and nonfiction. I’ve known my life experiences qualified me to relate to much of the content in such a genre, even though there is no professional qualification I can present to indicate I have been traumatized in a way that will allow me to understand what you, the author, are trying to say, and I am able to compartmentalize my trauma and provide you with literary feedback to convey your story adequately to a reader, including a non-survivor. However, for the first eighteen months or so of this portion of my career, I kept much of my story a secret. Why would anyone care what happened to me? I’d reason. It’s in the past, I don’t really care that much. I survived it. So what?

So what? is a question, though, with a very lengthy answer.

I realized that line of thought wasn’t entirely mine; it was the by-product of living in a society that is so numb to sexual violence that I believed my story was merely a Post-It-sized notation in the ever-growing tome of people who can say Me, too. While I thought, Yeah, me, too, I’ve been there, as I read memoir drafts and fiction alike, I still couldn’t bring myself to actually say the words aloud, even in private.

And then I met Katherine Turner.

The first book I contributed to by Katherine Turner—Finding Annie, for which I was contracted as a proofreader—had me silently screaming, That’s what I felt! as I read the manuscript on my bathroom floor at 3:00 a.m. while my husband slept. Her words had me crying, slowly pounding my fist on my knee, and pointing at the screen, saying, Yes! Someone knows! They get it! I felt that way, too! I’d wipe my tears away and read a little further, then softly think again, Me, too.

My working relationship with Katherine evolved, first by me becoming her blog editor, then a developmental editor for her memoir, resilient, then working together to develop and edit another nonfiction work, moments of extraordinary courage. In this last volume, Katherine explores some of the moments in her life in which she bravely decided to break her silence. In March of 2021, while editing her book, I found myself facing a moment of my own.

In the chapter #metoo, Katherine includes her social media post from October 2017, in which she decided to disclose the sexual abuse in her past. As I read the post—even though she’d previously shared it with me—I had a realization: I’d mentioned being sexually assaulted and abused online, yet I’d never made an official #metoo post.

I’d publicly maintained my silence because, at times when I’d shared my experiences privately, I’d been dismissed. I was told it wasn’t bad enough to be worthy of my distress, shamed for not speaking sooner, and questioned on if it was really abuse because I didn’t immediately put a stop to it. I’d even been told that if what I went through really was abuse, then everyone has been abused, so why was I upset?

Most notably, I’ve hesitated speaking about the abuse in my past for fear of backlash. Not related to myself or my actions (or lack thereof) but for fear of my abusers retaliating. Then I realized that, while there may be no police reports or legal proceedings to substantiate my experiences, I don’t have to keep what transpired to myself. Likewise, I don’t need to name them explicitly in order to share what they did or how I’m healing. Sharing what happened to me may help someone else break their silence, so that’s exactly what I’m going to do.

My silence gives the people who abused me protection. They already have enough from me.

I remember reading about people who were skeptical about all the #MeToo stories, even some people I knew were less than enthusiastic, from thinking women were making things up for attention to settling personal vendettas to trying to get rich. There were others I knew—primarily in older generations—who didn’t indicate one way or the other whether they believed these women but simply felt it was airing one’s dirty laundry, sharing something you should want to keep a secret. Whenever I listened to these people, I became angry. Sometimes I argued, but often I was paralyzed by anger and fear of confrontation, and I wasn’t sure how to persuade them to be more open-minded without telling my own secrets.

Katherine Turner, moments of extraordinary courage

AN ABBREVIATED ABUSE HISTORY

Birth-9 years old

Both before and after my parents divorced when I was nine, my physical space and autonomy were regularly violated by many trusted adults. I was subjected to physical space violations, forced physical affection, and inappropriate conduct at home.

9-11 years old

I experienced grooming by my father.

13 years old

I first became aware of rumors surrounding a teacher’s sexual misconduct, which I would later experience myself.

15 years old

A friend and fellow student became my first sexual aggressor, and I learned that authority figures might not have