I am the black sheep.
In a world full of the most angelic, white and fluffy critters.
I have, and always will be the black sheep.
We don’t talk about the way that abuse changes us. We don’t talk about it because we don’t like to think about nor acknowledge that it even exists.
Instead we talk about the trial, the accusations, the witnesses and the jail time.
What we fail to do acknowledge is the impact that the abuse and/or assault has on both their every day lives and their future.
I personally believe that a lot of people feel uncomfortable talking about the subject,
because the thought of it happening to us, to your mother, your children, your friend or your sibling is unsettling.
But do you have any idea of how unsettling it is for us?
Even after being in counselling for over four years and being on medication for three I wake up every day and hope that it’s not one of the “bad” days.
The days where getting out of bed seems next to impossible.
The days where I literally feel nothing.
The days when I don’t eat until 9PM because I sometimes feel like I don’t deserve to.
We don’t talk about the way that the depression and anxiety lasts so long that it has literally outdated all of my friends.
It doesn’t just go away, and we pretend like it does and it is not healthy. We set up counselling services for victims of assault and we publish that they’re being supported (which is amazing, in no way am I saying that it isn’t) but we pretend like that’s the end of the road.
And it’s not even the beginning.
We don’t talk about the un painted line of segregation between yourself and others that distance themselves from you because they no longer know how to interact with you after finding out what has happened to you. As if you’re a completely different person than the one that they so “formerly” knew.
We don’t talk about the most pitiful looks that you start to get from strangers like you’re a bird with two broken wings.
We don’t talk about the restless nights in bed, unable to sleep because I felt you watching me through your sick eyes.
We don’t talk about the early mornings that I woke up in full fledged panic for I had dreamt that you had pinned me down on the couch, duct taped my mouth and raped me.
We don’t talk about the fact that I woke up nearly screaming crying because I couldn’t let even a whisper out from my mouth in the dream.
I fear that we live in a world where these things get swept under the carpet so often that they will remain there until we decide to pull them out again.
And far too often we choose not to.
Don’t get me wrong, we have gotten better as a society but we still need to work together in supporting our survivors and encouraging them to heal by listening and showing compassion towards them.
Something that I think stops a lot of people from engaging with survivors about their abuse is the fear of triggering them, and while it’s very considerate to think that,
A lot of us just want someone to listen.
To not run away when things get ugly.
To not walk out on us.
My abuse has made me feel extremely isolated from my friends, my family and relationships because I process things differently.
But please, don’t be afraid to ask me how I’m doing, it genuinely means the world to me to know that you care about my wellbeing.
Ask us if we are okay, (here’s the important parts) and be there for us if we aren’t.
Be there for us when we are.
Recovery is not a one way street, there will be ups and there will be downs. Don’t be afraid to tag along for the ride, because we are some of the most dynamic, compassionate and deeply loving people that exist.
For that and many other reasons listed above and in other said posts, we are different.
I am different, and I am proud of it.
We are the black sheep, and we are not alone, but we are ready to be heard.
All my love,