How an IUD After Trauma Gave Me Back Control of My Body

When we talk about sexual assault, especially with those who haven't experienced it, the conversation often goes off track: "Did you really resist?", "Why did you go?", "Why didn't you report it?". Sound familiar? To me, yes. Such questions don't help. They take away even more strength and only reinforce the feeling that you are to blame for everything. But there is another path — to reclaim power over your body. And sometimes it looks completely different from what you expect.

I didn't expect it to be an IUD

After being assaulted by my boyfriend, I stopped trusting my body. What used to be neutral became frightening. Even taking a shower turned into an ordeal: I either asked a friend to sit nearby on the mat, or washed in the dark to avoid seeing myself in the mirror. My body ceased to be a home. I wanted only one thing — to protect it at any cost. And the most reliable protection seemed to me to be an intrauterine device.

The irony is that the procedure that was supposed to bring peace required exactly what I feared most: to lie down, spread my legs, and let a stranger do with you what they see fit. I almost refused.

What changed everything

I found a doctor who works with people who have experienced trauma. Before the procedure, she explained every step. She offered pain relief options. But I declined the laughing gas — it seemed to me that any alteration of consciousness would deprive me of control. Instead, I took a painkiller and a vaginal tablet to soften the cervix. Inserting it at home, in the dorm, was disgusting and awkward, but my roommate supported me, and that helped.

During the procedure, the doctor constantly asked if everything was okay, and I knew: if I said "stop," everything would immediately cease. A playlist made for me by a loved one was playing. It was painful and unpleasant, but it was finite, predictable pain, and I was in control of the situation. When it was over, I cried — but from pride, not from pain. My body had experienced something intimate, but it was not violated. That feeling became a revelation for me.

It's not a panacea, but for me it's a step

The IUD didn't make sex simple or erase fear from my nervous system. Healing is a long and winding thing. My body still confuses danger and discomfort. But I gained a new, lasting sense of control. Even when memories flood in, I know: I have the right to choose what to do with my body.

I'm telling this not to make everyone run out and get an IUD. It was my choice, suitable specifically for me here and now. If tomorrow I want to have it removed — I know who to call. The choice based on trauma is different for everyone. The main thing is that it is yours.

What's important to remember

If you have experienced violence, you don't have to conform to someone else's ideas of how to "correctly" cope. Some go to a psychologist, some do sports, some decide on a medical procedure. All these paths are about reclaiming control. And it's very important to have doctors nearby who understand: consent is not a checkmark on a form, but an ongoing dialogue. Ask your gynecologist if they are ready to work with people with traumatic experiences, whether the procedure can be interrupted, what pain relief options are available. If you feel you are not being heard, look for another specialist. You have the right to a gentle approach.

It took me time to stop being ashamed of my story and my decisions. Trauma influenced my choice, but it was autonomy that made it mine.