One in Four: Preparing for What We Hope Never Happens.

One statistic has stayed with me: one in four.

It is a difficult number to sit with. It is even more difficult when you stop thinking about it as a statistic and start thinking about the people behind it. Someone's daughter. Someone's mother. Someone's friend. Someone's partner. Someone's child. Maybe someone you know. Maybe you.

I am a survivor, so this isn't a subject I can approach from a distance. I am also a woman in my sixties, a mother, a daughter, a partner, a business owner who's been building a business for more than 35 years, and someone in recovery for 40 years. I've lived enough life to know that we don't get to control everything that happens to us. I've also learned that sometimes the things we wish we had known sooner are the things that can make the biggest difference later.

That is why I want to talk about preparedness. I don't claim to be able to teach someone how to prevent sexual assault. I don't believe any of us can make that promise. We can teach consent. We can teach respect. We can teach boundaries and healthy relationships. We can teach young people to recognize behavior that isn't right. All of that is important, but none of it gives us control over another person's choices. If someone decides to hurt another person, that decision belongs to them.

What we can do is prepare ourselves. For me, that preparation begins with understanding the body. Most of us know very little about what happens inside us when we are afraid. We know that our heart beats faster and that we might sweat or shake, but we don't necessarily understand why our thinking can suddenly become so different. The brain has systems designed to recognize danger and respond quickly. The amygdala is part of that system. When the brain perceives a threat, the body can begin preparing for action before we have consciously processed what is happening. That can mean a racing heart, rapid or shallow breathing, tense muscles, and narrowed attention. We may feel an overwhelming need to fight or get away. But sometimes the response is completely different. Sometimes we freeze.

We need to talk about freezing much more than we do.

We grow up with this idea that if something terrible happens, we will know exactly what to do. We imagine ourselves fighting, screaming, running, or somehow taking control. But the human nervous system doesn't always give us that choice. When fear overwhelms a person, the body can go still. A person may not be able to speak. They may not be able to move. They may comply with what is happening because, in that moment, their nervous system has decided that this is the best way to survive.

Years later, a survivor may look back and ask, "Why didn't I fight?"

That question can carry tremendous pain. But what if we understood the body's response before we ever needed that understanding? What if we knew that freezing is a possible response to overwhelming danger? What if we understood that the body can react automatically, and that our response in those moments doesn't determine whether we wanted what happened?

It doesn't.

A survival response is not consent.

This is one reason preparedness matters.

I'm not talking about learning how to become fearless. Fear is not something we should be ashamed of or try to eliminate. Fear is an alarm. It tells us to pay attention. The problem is that when the alarm becomes overwhelming, it can become difficult to separate what our body is experiencing from what is actually happening around us.

That is a skill I want people to understand.

Can we learn to notice the alarm without becoming completely consumed by it?

Can we notice that our heart is racing and recognize that our body is frightened without immediately assuming that we have lost the ability to think?

Can we learn to take a breath, look around, and ask ourselves what is actually happening?

That doesn't mean pretending that the danger isn't real. It doesn't mean leaving your body or disconnecting from reality. It means learning to observe yourself while you are experiencing something difficult. There is a difference between saying, "I am terrified," and noticing, "I am experiencing intense fear right now." The fear is still there, but there is a little more space around it.

That space is what interests me.

It may give us a moment to think. It could help us recognize an opportunity to leave. It could help us find someone who can help. It may not change the outcome at all. We have to be honest about that. No technique can guarantee safety when another person has decided to cause harm.

That's why preparedness can never become another form of victim blaming.

I don't want anyone to read this and think that if they had just been calmer, more aware, more careful, or more prepared, they could have guaranteed that an assault wouldn't happen. That isn't true. A survivor is not responsible for someone else's decision to assault them.

Preparedness is about something else entirely. It is about knowing ourselves well enough that, when something frightening happens, we aren't completely unfamiliar with our own response.

We can practice when we are safe. We can learn what fear feels like in our bodies. We can learn how to slow our breathing when we are overwhelmed. We can learn how to bring our attention back to the room we are standing in. We can learn to recognize when our thinking is becoming narrow. None of these things are magic, and none of them should be presented as a guarantee. They are simply ways of becoming more familiar with ourselves.

If you want something concrete to try, here are a few simple exercises:

One grounding practice is the "5-4-3-2-1" exercise. Take a slow breath and quietly notice five things you can see, four things you can touch, three things you can hear, two things you can smell, and one thing you can taste. This helps bring your attention back to the present moment and what is around you.

For breathing, place a hand on your chest or belly and take a slow, even breath in for four counts, then gently breathe out for six counts. Repeating this a few times can help calm your body and settle your mind.

You may also find it useful to reflect in writing. Journaling prompts like "When I feel afraid, what happens in my body?" or "What small signals tell me I am starting to feel overwhelmed?" can help you become more attuned to your own reactions. The goal is not to judge yourself, but simply to notice and practice awareness.

That familiarity matters.

I've spent 40 years in recovery, and one of the things recovery has taught me is the value of awareness. You begin to notice things that you didn't notice before. You learn to recognize patterns. You learn that feelings can be intense without dictating every decision. You learn that sometimes the first step is simply becoming aware of what is happening inside you.

That experience has shaped the way I think about preparedness.

I don't believe we can control everything that happens to us. I don't believe we should live our lives trying to anticipate every possible danger. That isn't living.

But we can become better acquainted with ourselves.

We can understand that the brain has an alarm system. We can understand that our bodies may react before our conscious minds catch up. We can understand that freezing is a possible survival response and not a moral failure. We can learn that intense fear can change our perception and our ability to think. And we can practice creating enough space to observe what is happening rather than immediately judging ourselves for how we are responding.

That may be what preparedness really is.

Not control.

Not fear.

Awareness.

So when I think about one in four, I don't want the number to become something that frightens people into changing the way they live. I don't want women to believe they are responsible for preventing sexual assault. I don't want men who experience it to feel invisible. I don't want people of any gender, background, or identity to feel left out of this conversation. Survivors come from every walk of life, and each experience is valid. I don't want young people growing up believing that the world is something they should constantly fear.

I want us to become more educated about something we don't talk about enough.

I want us to understand the brain and the body. I want us to understand what happens when the alarm goes off. I want us to stop judging survivors for the way their bodies responded to overwhelming circumstances. And I want people to have enough knowledge that, if they ever find themselves in a situation they never imagined, they have something to draw upon.

If you or someone you know has experienced sexual assault, you are not alone. For support, information, and resources, please visit the Resources page or call the National Sexual Assault Hotline at 1-800-656-4673. Reaching out is an act of strength.

Because we cannot control another person's choices.

We cannot promise that nothing bad will ever happen.

But we can prepare.

The most important part of preparation is not learning how to control the outside world. It is learning how to understand what is happening inside ourselves.

That is the conversation I want to start.

One in four is a hard number.

But maybe it can also be the number that makes us finally willing to talk about preparedness—not because we expect the worst, but because we care enough about one another not to leave people completely unprepared if the worst does happen.