The things you learn

We can't escape abuse these days. In every TV show, there will be mention of it in some context at some point. We all know the categories: emotional, sexual, physical... we know domestic abuse, and we know of harrassment and bullying.

 Isn't it sad that we don't listen anymore? I stopped listening, I'm sad to stay. I've been supportive to many people who have been victims of abuse, and helped at a refuge in South Africa (where I previously lived) for victims of sexual and physical abuse who, most of the time as a result of this, had HIV/AIDS. And yet, I stopped listening to the signs and symptoms. I think by now, people can assume what's coming. I admit, it is a rather cliche layout: knowledge, ignorance, and then a jolt back to reality. And so it is - but there's a difference.

I was in hospital two weeks ago. As a result of my three-day emergency stay, I had to have a full psychiatric report compiled on the little information they were able to get out of me in an hour and my little previous history. Based on that, and the background of my previous almost-admission, it was decided that I was to see a psychiatrist for a follow-up session. To cut a long story short, on Thursday I was sitting there, laughing at my own story, when suddenly I was stopped and asked if I thought my stories were abhorrent in any way.

I was taken aback. I thought I'd had a fairly safe childhood. I had a few hazy memories that I wasn't too fond thinking about, and I am a somewhat strange person - and no, I don't mean that I'm the typical "random and so uncool I'm cool" teenager - but I always considered myself lucky to have been able to hold myself together without needing to fall on someone else. I was alone, and proud.

I think I had the wrong portrayal of what abuse did. I expected to see crumbling into ashes and endless streams of tears. I expected to see bruises, and irrational fears, and - I flinch at the word - stereotypical "pictures" of victims.

I expected to see victims. Not survivors.

To cut to the chase - just because you block a thought out of your mind, it doesn't mean that it didn't happen. Just because someone loves you, it doesn't mean that they can't hurt you. I'm now officially down as a victim of emotional and physical abuse. I know that I'm going to have people ask me "how did you not know?", but to be honest, it's quite easy. The parent in question undoubtedly loves me, and because of this, I took in that I was a selfish, filthy, disgusting, worthless, insane, irresponsible, underdeveloped, unworthy, inhumane, troublesome bitch. That's just the way it was. And just because I was young and didn't cry and protest while it happened, it doesn't mean that the family friend didn't do it to me. And suddenly my inability to speak and my fear of... well... just about everything... can be connected to something.

The point of this?

It's true. You never know who is a victim. Being silent and independent hurts you more than speaking out does. But no matter how much it's preached, nobody listens. I know I've been told it my whole life through, and when I wanted to shout out the most, I've been too afraid to. But I didn't need to be. I've learnt that now, after three overdoses, three hours of the same person drilling it repeatedly into my head (yes, there is a hint of exasperation in there), and a three day hospital stay during which I almost died, that yes - getting help isn't a sign of weakness. It's being human.

And haven't I been told that? Yes, but I never paid attention.

So I'm not going to stop listening anymore. All of these awareness programmes that we all complain about all the time are there for a reason, and I think we forget that after we've been ambushed by them for so long. But sometimes we should stop and think about it. This may be an "out-there" example, but even the smaller things... life is beautiful. Every aspect of it should be appreciated, not just the extraordinary moments.

(this is now VERY long and rambly, but I'm sleep-deprived, and just thought people should know that things are out there for a reason. Maybe I should've put this at the end, right? Hmmm...)

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