Onika L. Dainty

This isn’t just my story. It’s the story of countless women and girls whose mental health are impacted by gender-based violence (GBV). It’s a story about survival, recovery, and the complex intersection of trauma and mental illness. I’m sharing this because it’s time to break the silence and reclaim our narratives—not just for myself but for others who feel unseen, unheard, or unworthy of healing.

Understanding Gender-Based Violence: A Survivor’s Lens

What Gender-based Violence (GBV) Looks Like for Me

For me, GBV wasn’t an abstract concept; it was a crushing reality. It was the way my high school boyfriend used charm to mask his manipulation, how he pressured me into uncomfortable situations, and the moment he crossed an unforgivable line by orchestrating my assault.

This is the nature of GBV—it often happens at the hands of someone you know, someone you trust. It can be physical, emotional, or sexual, and it leaves behind wounds that don’t always show on the surface.

The Silent Epidemic

The statistics are staggering: In Canada, over 34,000 sexual assaults were reported in 2021 alone. But that’s just the tip of the iceberg—most incidents, like mine, go unreported. Survivors stay silent for many reasons: fear, shame, or the belief that no one will believe them. For women with mental health conditions, the risk is even greater. We are seven times more likely to be assaulted than others, making our vulnerabilities feel like targets.

Living With Bipolar Disorder After Gender-based Violence (GBV)

The Ripple Effects of Trauma

The trauma did not just hurt me in the moment; it changed the course of my life and my mental health. At first, I was diagnosed with depression and generalized anxiety disorder. It wasn’t until my 20s, after years of unexplained emotional highs and lows, that I was diagnosed with Bipolar disorder. Looking back, I realize how much the assault triggered and amplified my symptoms.

During manic episodes, I made reckless decisions—seeking validation, ignoring my instincts, and putting myself in risky situations. During depressive episodes, I felt consumed by shame and fear, reliving the assault over and over in my mind. I became trapped in a cycle of emotional instability that seemed impossible to break.

Intimacy as a Battlefield

Intimacy became one of my biggest challenges. I couldn’t separate physical closeness from the violence I’d endured. My trauma response was visceral: flashbacks, shaking, hyperventilating. Even when I managed to push through, I’d leave the experience feeling dirty, ashamed, and unworthy. I coped the only way I knew how—with cannabis, used to dull the fear and guilt. But numbing myself wasn’t healing. It was just survival.

Breaking the Cycle: My Path to Recovery

The Moment I Sought Help

I hit a breaking point in my 30s. After years of running from my trauma, I finally admitted that I needed help. I reached out to my local rape crisis centre and began weekly counselling sessions. Talking about the assault was excruciating, but it was also liberating. For the first time, I felt seen and heard.

Through cognitive-behavioural therapy (CBT), I confronted my fears head-on. Exposure therapy helped me reframe my interactions with men and take back some of the power I felt I had lost. Healing wasn’t linear, but it was possible.

What Recovery Looks Like for Me

Recovery did not mean erasing what happened—it meant learning how to live with it. It meant forgiving myself for the ways I coped, embracing my resilience, and finding tools to navigate my triggers. It also meant leaning on resources like the Oshawa-Durham Rape Crisis Centre and Women’s College Hospital’s trauma therapy programs.

The Bigger Picture: Empowering Survivors

We Deserve Better

As survivors, we are often told to “move on” or “let it go,” but healing doesn’t work that way. It takes time, effort, and support. And it requires a society willing to confront the roots of Gender-based violence (GBV) and the stigma surrounding mental illness.

Advocacy has become a part of my recovery. By sharing my story, I hope to challenge the systems that failed me and to create safer spaces for other survivors. Whether it’s through supporting local crisis centres, pushing for policy changes, or simply listening to survivors without judgment, we all have a role to play.

Final Thoughts

 A Message to Fellow Survivors

To anyone reading this who feels trapped by their trauma, I see you. I am you. And I want you to know that healing is possible. It’s not easy, and it won’t erase the pain, but it can help you find peace.

You didn’t ask for this. What happened to you is not your fault. But your healing? That’s yours to claim. You are worthy of recovery, of love, and of a life free from the shadows of your past.

Recovery and healing from trauma is not going to be easy. You will have days you regret starting the journey and you want to walk away from revisiting some of the most painful memories of your life. But I ask you to keep trying, keep working toward the goal of healing and keep fighting for yourself and your future happiness. Do not let your past dictate your future and do not let your perpetrator steal your joy. 

Let’s break the silence together. Let’s fight for a world where survivors are heard, believed, and empowered to heal. You are not alone. There is light at the end of this very dark tunnel and there is definitely sunshine after the rain.