3.02.2015

dear social media,

i find it funny how "socially aware" you pretend to be. how you pretend to know about all the disabilities & cultures & pain people face, how you get into the worst arguments supposedly on their behalf when someone shares something you find insensitive. sometimes, you are right. there are things worth fighting against: racism, class-ism, mocking the horrendous injustices done to slaves and rape victims and boys who are "not man enough"--all those things should be challenged.
but for all your sensitivity, you're a pretty rough monster for people who have suffered trauma.

nobody "deserved" it. nobody earns abuse or bullying or injustice. there's this thing called human dignity--that's what we all deserve. THAT is the definition of how to treat another human. let me tell you, it is easier to do for others than it is for myself. some of us cannot. or could not change our circumstances-- it doesn't make what happened to us our fault. you might say "well i wasn't talking about you". but see, one survivor recognizes another. we all have different stories. we experienced things we shouldn't have to varying degrees. none of us would say we understand or feel what the other feels...none of us are the same. but there is this sense of...shared burden? between some of us. when you say he "asked for that beating" part of me rises to his defense--wants to scream at you, wants to punch you in the face and then say "your inflammatory words asked for it" only to see how quickly that theory falls apart when you're on the receiving end.

*nothing makes abuse okay*

NOTHING.

i get it, it's hard. it's so much easier to blame the victim, so much easier to personalize the abuser so we don't have to face the ugliness of what they really did. i get that. hell, i still do it constantly. i still feel as if it's my job to not let the past out of its little box. to not make things awkward. to not change how others perceive him, not call to question their trust of him.

but that's not my job. or my responsibility. he made the choices to abuse me emotionally & verbally & psychologically & physically--he has to live with the consequences of those decisions.

as do i. a marred reputation is painful. but a wrecked heart is also painful. part of me feels guilty for being honest when questions come up. i used to lie about them, why be honest now? --but. the other part of me sees so many bruises and cracks in her own heart and so little compassion for herself that she can't spare any more for him.

so when you say "she asked for it" i wonder what her story is. what really happened? were you there? is that part of why you say it--because you were spared, so surely it must have been her fault? or because you got "it" to, and you blame yourself for things you never deserved?
b/c all of us--abuse survivors or not--tell lies so quickly to protect others. or/& to protect ourselves from the rifts & confusion it causes when "good" people do unjust things... we don't usually know the real story ourselves. until someone cares enough to ask.

the most dangerous part about that statement is it undermines all my new thought patterns. part of me wonders...what if it's true? i don't judge her like you do. i can't. it's too personal. and that's my bias, maybe it's wrong of me to take on personally something that has nothing to do with me. but right or wrong, i go there: if it's true about her, than it can be for me too. there are some lies that sink into your heart despite all your best efforts to not believe them. not every behavior or every unhealthy thought is a choice. some of us had our choices made by others. sometimes you fight desperately, with every tooth & nail, shouts & whispers in the darkness, to hold on to the light. and it still seeps away. you can give your all to hold on to what you know is true; but the lies still hit your soul. they still take root in your heart. and you can't stop it.

powerless is sometimes a reality, not just a feeling.

there are some things that we could. not. stop. this is hardest for some victims to believe. hardest to accept that circumstances were outside my control. it's easier to blame myself. easier to think i could have acted and it would have been different. i've been hearing my whole life how it's my fault. how he's the victim. from the screaming words and the loudest of actions. now, it's all i can do to NOT tell myself those things. it's all i can do to believe that i matter as much as the next person, and not put every single human i meet above myself.

nobody can heal themselves.  we can invite the Great Soul Physician to come in to our wounded spaces...but we can't make Him work.

i'll be deleting this for sure, but tonight i feel trapped and angry and suffocated and needed to vent the steam.

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