The past few weeks have been rough. I know people talk about triggers so often these days, it's become a joke. On the surface, I haven't had any side effects from all the assault and rape cases covered in the media in such detail. I'm not having flashbacks, and I'm still able to function on a daily basis.
Below the surface is a different story: I've fallen into a mild depression, I am experiencing anxiety, and I am having trouble processing the emotions and thoughts that have manifested. While my abuse hasn't had as large an impact on my romantic relationship as I thought, I assumed I had dealt with it much better than it appears I have. Issues with child abuse and sexual crimes are still sensitive areas and can bring up emotional reactions, even in otherwise calm discussions with my boyfriend.
I'm glad my abuser is dead.
If he were alive today, where would I be? Would I have to decide if I wanted to prosecute him? Would I still be in denial about what happened? Would I be emotionally stunted? Would I have to sit in a courtroom as every decision I made was torn apart and intent decided? Would my memories be questioned? Would I be attacked for daring to suggest that someone with a shiny public reputation could behave in such a way? Would people insinuate that I was complicit in my own abuse despite being a child when it began? Would I be weighed and found wanting?
I'm glad my abuser is dead.
Maybe that makes me a coward. I don't have to go through any public ridicule and judgment, but I also don't get to ask the question most assault survivors want to know: "WHY?" I don't get closure and satisfaction of justice.
As I watch Dr. Ford share her account of the event she partially remembers, I admire her strength and composure, even at the personal cost of such a decision. Being in such a public forum exacerbates any pressure and anxiety a thousandfold, even from the already heightened environment of a private courtroom. Reading the comments from the tens of thousands of strangers that have opinions on experiences they were not part of has been frustrating and deplorable. How do you explain without sounding crazy that someone whom you never met is impacting your life?
I'm glad my abuser is dead.
I don't have to worry about interacting with him, I don't have to worry about people upset that I dare malign his character, and I don't have to worry about reporting him to prevent future abuse on other people. I don't have to worry about the victim shaming, even in questions that are slanted. Even within the abuse and assault community, everyone has speculations about how it should be reported, when it should be reported, and when it's serious enough to be reported. I don't have to worry if people think I'm believed just because I'm a woman or because of personal interests.
I'm glad my abuser is dead.
I can proceed with life as it was. I can keep my personal secrets secret. I can minimize the repercussions of his behavior. I can deal with the impact on a daily basis. I can process through my life within my selected social circle. I don't have to deal with him.
I'm glad my abuser is dead.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Til It Happens to You
You tell me it gets better, it gets better in time
You say I'll pull myself together, pull it together
You'll be fine
Tell me what the hell do you know? What do you know?
Tell me how the hell could you know? How could you know?
Till it happens to you, you don't know how it feels
How it feels
Till it happens to you, you won't know
It won't be real
No, it won't be real
Won't know how it feels
You tell me hold your head up
Hold your head up and be strong
'Cause when you fall, you gotta get up
You gotta get up and move on
Tell me, how the hell could you talk?
How could you talk?
'Cause until you walk where I walk
It's just all talk
Till it happens to you, you don't know how it feels
How it feels
Till it happens to you, you won't know
It won't be real (how could you know?)
No, it won't be real (how could you know?)
Won't know how I feel
Till your world burns and crashes
Till you're at the end, the end of your rope
Till you're standing in my shoes, I don't wanna hear nothing from you
From you, from you, 'cause you don't know
Till it happens to you, you don't know how I feel
How I feel, how I feel
Till it happens to you, you won't know
It won't be real (how could you know?)
No, it won't be real (how could you know?)
Won't know how it feels
Till it happens to you, happens to you, happens to you
Happens to you, happens to you, happens to you (how could you know?)
Till it happens to you, you won't know how I feel
Below the surface is a different story: I've fallen into a mild depression, I am experiencing anxiety, and I am having trouble processing the emotions and thoughts that have manifested. While my abuse hasn't had as large an impact on my romantic relationship as I thought, I assumed I had dealt with it much better than it appears I have. Issues with child abuse and sexual crimes are still sensitive areas and can bring up emotional reactions, even in otherwise calm discussions with my boyfriend.
I'm glad my abuser is dead.
If he were alive today, where would I be? Would I have to decide if I wanted to prosecute him? Would I still be in denial about what happened? Would I be emotionally stunted? Would I have to sit in a courtroom as every decision I made was torn apart and intent decided? Would my memories be questioned? Would I be attacked for daring to suggest that someone with a shiny public reputation could behave in such a way? Would people insinuate that I was complicit in my own abuse despite being a child when it began? Would I be weighed and found wanting?
I'm glad my abuser is dead.
Maybe that makes me a coward. I don't have to go through any public ridicule and judgment, but I also don't get to ask the question most assault survivors want to know: "WHY?" I don't get closure and satisfaction of justice.
As I watch Dr. Ford share her account of the event she partially remembers, I admire her strength and composure, even at the personal cost of such a decision. Being in such a public forum exacerbates any pressure and anxiety a thousandfold, even from the already heightened environment of a private courtroom. Reading the comments from the tens of thousands of strangers that have opinions on experiences they were not part of has been frustrating and deplorable. How do you explain without sounding crazy that someone whom you never met is impacting your life?
I'm glad my abuser is dead.
I don't have to worry about interacting with him, I don't have to worry about people upset that I dare malign his character, and I don't have to worry about reporting him to prevent future abuse on other people. I don't have to worry about the victim shaming, even in questions that are slanted. Even within the abuse and assault community, everyone has speculations about how it should be reported, when it should be reported, and when it's serious enough to be reported. I don't have to worry if people think I'm believed just because I'm a woman or because of personal interests.
I'm glad my abuser is dead.
I can proceed with life as it was. I can keep my personal secrets secret. I can minimize the repercussions of his behavior. I can deal with the impact on a daily basis. I can process through my life within my selected social circle. I don't have to deal with him.
I'm glad my abuser is dead.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Til It Happens to You
You tell me it gets better, it gets better in time
You say I'll pull myself together, pull it together
You'll be fine
Tell me what the hell do you know? What do you know?
Tell me how the hell could you know? How could you know?
Till it happens to you, you don't know how it feels
How it feels
Till it happens to you, you won't know
It won't be real
No, it won't be real
Won't know how it feels
You tell me hold your head up
Hold your head up and be strong
'Cause when you fall, you gotta get up
You gotta get up and move on
Tell me, how the hell could you talk?
How could you talk?
'Cause until you walk where I walk
It's just all talk
Till it happens to you, you don't know how it feels
How it feels
Till it happens to you, you won't know
It won't be real (how could you know?)
No, it won't be real (how could you know?)
Won't know how I feel
Till your world burns and crashes
Till you're at the end, the end of your rope
Till you're standing in my shoes, I don't wanna hear nothing from you
From you, from you, 'cause you don't know
Till it happens to you, you don't know how I feel
How I feel, how I feel
Till it happens to you, you won't know
It won't be real (how could you know?)
No, it won't be real (how could you know?)
Won't know how it feels
Till it happens to you, happens to you, happens to you
Happens to you, happens to you, happens to you (how could you know?)
Till it happens to you, you won't know how I feel
