I grew up in an environment where anger was not acceptable. The oldest of 3, I was not to get angry at the younger siblings, I should be understanding and lead by example. I shouldn’t get angry at real or perceived injustice, I should extend my empathy and forgiveness for what someone else is going through. I shouldn’t get angry at racist statements or actions, but instead try and understand what that person may have grown up with to make them who they are. I shouldn’t get angry about feeling mistreated, be thankful because someone else has it worse. If you get angry, you’re just as bad as they are. You’re falling for their trap if you allow yourself to feel angry.

So much of my life up till now was full of people older than me trying to force the wisdom of pacifism in all ways on my heart. So many platitudes to reinforce it like how holding a grudge is holding onto a hot coal and hoping the other person gets burned. How not forgiving someone and allowing anger to root only hurts you. They spoke as if letting yourself feel that emotion is one of the most dangerous things you could do and one of the biggest failures you could ever have. A marring of your soul.

They spoke as if permitting anger to gain breath, would be a sign to everyone around you that you were unworthy of any kindness or acceptance or trust. That if you allowed yourself to get angry, and especially if you listened to anger in any way, that it made you unworthy of future forgiveness.

Let me tell you…that takes an awful lot of effort to unlearn! Not gonna lie, gonna blame Catholic fear mongering as a big part of it in the early years. “Oh noes…if you get mad and don’t forgive people, you’ll end up suffering for all eternity!” is a pretty big motivator for a kiddo. But that kind of teaching also paves the way to allow predatory behavior to thrive. It’s one of the many reasons that victims can get caught up in focusing on the positive aspects of a person instead of taking action when necessary.

From a Warning Call to Throwing Hands

Now this isn’t to say to let your anger off the leash completely and let it take the wheel. Anger, like all of our emotions needs to be met with awareness and moderation. If we let joy run the show, many of us would likely be in just as much trouble but for completely different reasons. Same with sadness, love, fear. As much as I would prefer to never mention the big mouse corporation, there’s a recent movie where all the emotions are anthropomorphized into their own being inside the head of the characters. In the plot, joy was causing problems. Not sadness or fear or anger. Joy. Because we need to learn to accept and work with all of them as all of them can complicate our lives. Today, however, I’m focusing on anger.

Anger is important. It lets us know that something is wrong. That something doesn’t feel fair or true. Whether someone else feels the same way can be taken into account, but we all view things differently. To warn us that someone else is in danger. To strike the fire of motivation to change what we feel is wrong. To encourage us to stick up for ourselves and for others. As a quote that gets passed around the internet often says:

“Your anger is the part of you that knows your mistreatment and abuse are unacceptable. Your anger knows you deserve to be treated well, and with kindness. Your anger is a part of you that LOVES you.”

I like to think of mine as a rattlesnake. Coiled. Observing. Waiting. Misunderstood. And no longer willing to be silent.

She gets suspicious, and I get a tightness in my chest. Upset enough to give a warning rattle and I can feel the buzz in my arms. Further antagonization and it becomes difficult not to give a warning bite with venom laced words, not enough to harm but enough to say whatever going on isn’t welcome here. Stop. Back off. Past that point and no matter what act is taken, you’ve past the point where I’m willing to give you grace…at least that’s how it feels in the moment

I’ve learned to love her, and respect her…my little internal rattlesnake. But it took and awfully long time to get to that point. I still catch myself thinking that I should scold her for rattling her warning or bury her in the sand when she starts to tense her coils. Feeling like it’s shameful to have the ability to put venom into my words or actions. And I still have fear that letting her exist will cause unforgivable hurt to people I care about.

But…just like a rattlesnake…you have to learn to work with it. Listening to what is making those coils tense or that hair stand up or that pit in your stomach to form before it gets further. Showing that part of yourself that you do, in fact, hear the warning of alarm bells. Whether the next action is to walk away or to spit venom or to remain still and observe, we can learn to manage the anger and work with it rather than wait till it gets overwhelming and near impossible to control. We need to do this because sometimes….sometimes that warning signal is wrong.

However you envision your anger, it has learned what it needs to react to in order to keep you and others safe. And just like any other living thing, it can learn that some things that are a danger…when there’s more to what they’ve experienced. So we learn to listen without feeling a need to act immediately.

So yeah, you’re allowed to get angry at someone’s tone of voice sounding disrespectful. You’re allowed to get angry for not feeling heard. You’re allowed to get angry for people taking advantage of you. You’re allowed to get angry when people you trust betray you. You are allowed to get angry.

The trick, is learning what to do when you get there. Is the anger for a reason you can fix? Is it going to help motivate you to advocate for yourself? Is it something you feel so strongly about that you need to act? Are you prepared for consequences or are you just allowing that rage to talk you into it? Can you learn to find a talking ground with your anger to help discern real threat from perceived? Can you learn enough to handle it similar to those comfortable with handling a snake or a spider?

I don’t have the answers for what is right or wrong for you. I’m still learning to talk with mine. All I know is that it’s important to not cut off the tail of the rattlesnake and pretend that she’s tame and that anger doesn’t exist. In that way, anger definitely is a poison. The more you pretend it isn’t there…the more it builds resentment. Ignoring it just allows it to grow where it’s out of sight to where it will explode out one day…and probably at the worst possible time.

Let it be uncomfortable. Block those people that get under your skin. Call out that coworker. Get to know your inner truth better. And screw trying to be this perpetually higher than thou never feel the seed of rage ideal.

Make friends with the rattlesnake.

It’s much better than being afraid of it.

Over the years, I have done a lot of work with the trauma I’ve faced. One of the things that I’ve come to rely on is my memory. Now, I’m aware that every human has a flawed memory. But I had the skill of recalling conversations down to body language, tone of voice, and expression. It was a survival technique my brain picked up along the way as gaslighting was something I grew up with. It was also one of the challenges I’ve had, when there were memories I didn’t want to have on instant replay. Whether it was a positive or negative…I still relied on it. It was a point of pride, sometimes even dark humor as well. I still remember events from childhood as if they happened last year. I also knew that the time with one of my ex’s was a time I tried not to remember. I actively pushed those memories down. I was still aware of them, though. I touched on some of it when I wrote THIS ARTICLE here.

Recently though…I was brought to the sudden realization that there were a whole vault of memories I had subconsciously repressed about that specific time. I had literally had them so tightly locked away that I had no awareness that they were even there in the first place. The funny thing, at least to me, is that it wasn’t trauma that caused them to resurface. It was a string of good things.

I met a new artist friend that did an incredible piece for me. I love it so much, that I already planning a few more pieces and will showcase them in a different article that isn’t tainted by the rest of the subject matter. It is a risqué rendering that features some of the hidden aspects of having Ehlers-Danlos. I had to have someone take photos of my body in order to get this, and it was a bit of a challenge on facing down body images. But let me tell you, this guy was utterly fantastic through the whole process. Encouraging, funny, kind, and supportive of the whole project. It took all the anxiety I had and washed it away. In the end, I got a spectacular work that is proudly hanging in my living room.

Relationships are also great! One of my partners has decided to get a bit more experimental and it’s been fantastic! Even the recent commission plays into that as it helped me get more comfortable with my body the way it is. So he’s been thoroughly enjoying the new turn! The other half is getting a new job and we’ve been cuddling and going for walks. And…I guess this is where I realize that I’ve come out as polyamorous. Because for me, it’s important to the rest of how this plays out so no turning back now. Might as well add that I’m a bi demisexual that is Two-Spirit while I’m at it. There. It’s all out there now. Because I’ve lost the fucks to give on it.

So everything was fine. Everything was great. I’m working on new projects, making new friends, networking with new friends……..and then….

I knew I was stressed for reasons I couldn’t put my finger on. I chalked it up to all the normal stuff. Weather. Pain. You know…normal EDS bullshit. Until the very last straw. My one partner decided he wanted to give oral. We’ve had discussions on how I’m just not comfortable with it, but it was never for a reason. It just…was. I always just kind of disassociated during and felt weird after. But he was SO sweet about everything. And SO cute. It was never set as a hard no, only a soft no, so when he was being coy saying he “wanted to play, but his hands were cold…but he could use something else” I got swept up in the moment. Until I didn’t. It was the strangest feeling of wanting to be there and wanting to run and mentally lock myself down at the same time. Even after, I just felt distressed and uneasy.

It wasn’t until the next day that everything came forward. I remember the ex being sexually abusive and mentally abusive. But somehow…my brain had taken a large collection of some of the worst experiences and hidden them from my conscious mind. I knew it happened. I know of people that have missing memories. My other half has missing memories. I just…didn’t think I went through anything worth it happening to me. I thought what I remembered was bad enough that I would obviously recall the rest of it.

Things came slowly at first. It wasn’t like the world was ripped away from me. It was a brief memory flash that was completely unfamiliar. So I mentally dove after it because I was confused. The deeper I went, the more came flowing towards me. I felt like Pandora opening her box, but instead of everything escaping…I was being pulled in.

The details of what I remembered are not something I will be sharing. It should suffice to say that what he did…was turn sex into an unpredictable and violent act. And it was a number of years before I was able to get free. What I will say, was that it was the positive interactions that I had. It was talking about my own photos and it being a fully positive experience. That during something my body remembered as traumatic, I was relaxed and unafraid and with someone that I know is safe. They were such a complete contrast to everything that came up, it’s the only thing I’ve been able to come up with as to why that was the trigger.

The flood of emotions that I experienced during this…I can’t even properly explain. It was being lost in the middle of a hurricane at the worst of the winds and the waves. I felt betrayed by my own mind. I felt like I had gone leaps and bounds backwards in all my healing because of things I had forgotten. I felt like I couldn’t trust my memory. I felt sick and disgusted. I felt the violation all over again. And before I got lost…I called my zebra sister. She worked with victims before and I knew she was a safe place. My partners…all I could feel was that I had lied to them or betrayed them by not remembering. I felt too dirty and tainted to talk to them. That it wasn’t fair. That I wanted to enjoy things with them. That they shouldn’t have to make accommodations for things I didn’t even remember. That it wasn’t fair to feel the way I do towards people that love me so much. So I called her.

I will repeat the important parts for anyone else that needs to hear them. And I plead, that if you ever face such things yourself, that you remember this. No. It’s not fair. This trauma turned sex into a violent act for my body. It’s not my fault. It’s not their fault. It is the fault of the one that caused the trauma. It isn’t my fault for not remembering. I am not weak for not remembering. I am not flawed for not remembering. I am not broken for not remembering. My brain did exactly what it was supposed to do, and it did such a good job, I didn’t even know it did it.

It kept me going.

20 years away from when I first met that monster…and my personality is completely different. I no longer am the young lady who believed that if anyone showed her attention, it was simply to get sex because she was otherwise worthless. I no longer am the timid thing trying to make everyone happy. I am no longer the person trying to be so small she hopefully goes unnoticed and left alone. I am no longer hiding behind walls of reinforced mental concrete.

Hiding the horrors of what happened…allowed me to get this far. I share raw stories so that others may not feel so alone. I have a rich life of friends from all over the world. I pushed myself to get over debilitating phobias. I express myself with my artwork and am not afraid to challenge when necessary. I’m actually quite proud of how far I’ve come.

That it is coming up now, because I’ve become the kind of person that CAN handle it. That my subconscious felt safe and confident enough that it drug the festering bag of rot so I can get rid of it. That is how I’ve taken to processing it. I got past so much, and now I’m at the point where I can get into the heavy stuff that would have broken me if I looked at it before.

I did manage to talk to both of my people about what I was going through. Why I had been upset and tweaky. Why I didn’t want to be touched. The initial feeling was that all of that progress was lost. I was reminded by my other half, that I was already pretty messed up when he met me. I was doing the best that I could do just to survive what I DID have on my plate. And there was a few times in those early years of meeting him that my body did try to go into an early exit. Nothing intentional on my part, it just…was not okay. Looking back, my body remembered what my mind hid from me. Every time I disassociated during sex, was because it remembered and was doing a kindness in its own way. My partner took the other route and reminded me that I’m still the beautiful woman that he has loved this whole time. For him, nothing has changed when he looks at me. They both hate what I’ve gone through, and I got plenty of love and support. But for them, they never had a glimmer of disgust towards me or hesitation to hold me. Rage at the ex….but nothing but love and support towards me.

All of this just reinforced that it really was time to get rid of the rancid aspects of what had been carried with me this whole time.

So I took a full two days, and let the memories come as they would. I let them go. I screamed, and cried, and wailed, and threw things, and slept, and did the same thing the next day. I faced all of them. Every horrific memory that swept through my mind. I faced every last one. I didn’t go looking for more, but I faced what came up.

And the strangest thing happened…

I realized that I wasn’t feeling scared of my ex. I was livid. I wasn’t angry and upset with myself for going through it or not escaping sooner. I was raging at him. I wasn’t disappointed in myself. I was full of disgust for those that instilled those feelings of worthlessness of the self before I met him. In those moments, I realized just how much truth the words of my zebra sister and my partners rang true. That I was a completely different person that who I was 20 years ago. That as terrible as this experience was, and horrible as those memories were to face…it was the fact that I could face them. They still hurt and they still were something I’d not volunteer to go through again by any stretch. But I could. And my brain, as much as we argue, somehow knew it was the right time.

I don’t know if there’s any others back there. I don’t want to go looking. This is one time, where I can say that I trust my subconscious to know when it’s time to let me know if there’s anything else. But as I’m writing this, I’m no longer overwhelmed with emotions. I’m not breaking into uncontrolled sobs just because someone texted me if I’m okay because they’ve not heard back from me in a few hours and that’s unusual. I’ve been back to work and getting back to all my classwork that I missed during this little meltdown.

I’m grateful that I had all of these positive things that came together, even if it triggered something unpleasant. I’m even more appreciative that I’ve gotten to be the person that is able to see all the fantastic things I’ve got going on and celebrate despite the negative. Even though there’s more to go…repressing the memories wasn’t something that was bad to do. It wasn’t a fault or a flaw. It was actually something pretty impressive. So I’m even grateful for my brain’s ability to do that.

So if you end up with memories that come back. Or you have holes in your past. Take a moment to thank your brain for looking out for you. You don’t have to like it or being excited about it. But just try to be grateful that you’ve got such a cool survival mechanism. Call a trusted love one, call a trauma therapist, call whoever you need to be safe, absolutely and always. But you got this far and I’m proud of you!

And just for one final…something that gave all that emotional energy a place to channel…this is one of the songs I used. Hope you enjoy it as much as I needed it

Someone I care about shared a quote. My knee-jerk reaction to this was to think that it’s absolutely beautiful and brought me quite a bit of joy. The quote was from the book Beautiful Lies, by Lisa Unger and said, “When you start to know someone, all their physical characteristics start to disappear. You begin to dwell in their energy, recognize the scent of their skin. You see only the essence of the person, not the shell. That’s why you can’t fall in love with beauty. You can lust after it, be infatuated by it, want to own it. You can love it with your eyes and your body but not your heart. And that’s why when you really connect with a person’s inner self, any physical imperfections disappear, become irrelevant.”

And still…I find this to be a beautiful statement. It’s something that a partner of mine discussed on multiple occasions, the most significant of which was when I was first facing ankle surgery and the diagnosis of Ehlers-Danlos was becoming horrifyingly inescapable. I was scared. Scared that I would be a burden to those I loved. That all they would see is my inability to do things with them. My hurdles. My splints. My crutches. My pain. That’s all I would become, a reminder of ugly things in life and they’d stop wanting to be around me because of it. He was very gentle as he spoke to me and asked me to elaborate. He listened patiently. Though my sobs and my long-winded rambling. Then, with a smirk, he nodded and said, “Ah. I see. So, what you’re saying, is that if I fall off a roof and get hurt that you’ll stop loving me?” I was appalled that he would say such a thing and told him so! He then put on a very confused expression and pointed out that was exactly what I expected everyone else to do, “Are you saying your better than me?”, and the smirk returned. The conversation took turn and we discussed that I need to maybe accept that I’m loved in the same way I love others. That’s it’s more than looks, or what they can do for me. It’s who they are as a whole.

So when a friend posted this quote to her social media…those memories came up and filled me with a love that is all encompassing and rooted deep in the soul. A reminder that what love means, isn’t your productivity or whether or not you’re sick. You intelligence and your skill doesn’t make you less or more worthy of love. Nor does having a degenerative disease make you less deserving of love. Because being human and sharing love is MUCH bigger than any of that.

But then…the thoughts took a turn…

I’ve written about difficult times growing up. How I put myself in therapy and had to digest the fact that I had treatment for cPTSD and not just depression. But all the acknowledgement and processing for all those years, and sometimes it still pops up out of nowhere. Memories strong enough that I can still see the whole scene play out and hear it play in my head word for word. Having your mother tell you that your bra size was too big, which means you were fat and needed to watch what you eat…I was still in Jr. High and wasn’t even over 100lbs. I just have a big chest. Or having her pinch your belly skin when she walks by and reminding you that if you were fit, she wouldn’t be able to do that. Nitpicking about how my hair was cut. What clothes I liked. How I sat. It was all superficial nonsense.

Which, some of this can be normal. Parents are supposed to help teach their kids how to be functional adults. So no, your parents telling you that you’re not going to a family holiday dinner dressed like you’re going to a GWAR concert isn’t them being abusive. But it’s also supposed to come with praise and acknowledgement of good things. An encouragement of passions. If all they do is nitpick on your outward appearance and superficial traits while ignoring all of the beautiful, unique, and incredibly important traits about you that make you the fantastic person that you are? This is probably something you need to tear apart and inspect a bit. Parents are human too, and sometimes personalities just clash. But sometimes, unfortunately, they’re just not capable of providing actual love. Maybe they’re hurting, maybe they need therapy, maybe they’re just mentally unstable. What matters there is you take a healthy look at whether they’ve been supportive and maybe it just looks different than you’d prefer…or…whether they’re honestly not and you need to reach out to get yourself the help and support that you deserve. No matter how old you are or whether you parents are even alive or not.

The quote then hurt. It was a reminder of people that were supposed to be showing me that love as a child and what I didn’t get behind closed doors. Feelings of jealousy for people who grew up in families that loved their kiddos. People with kids who share how proud they are of them and you can tell by the interaction that they mean it honestly, and not just something they are sharing to get praise for what a good parent they must be.

Then…the thoughts got darker

Because the quote can also be used as a tool of manipulation. This is even more common if you grew up without experiencing an environment to grow up with in which you experienced love. If you don’t know what real love looks like? It’s awfully hard to recognize it from toxic relationships.

Every relationship has hard times. No matter how much love is involved, everyone gets stressed. Everyone has a breaking point. Everyone has a line in the sand. And everyone is entitled to their limits and taking steps to ensure their own mental and physical health. But abusive situations often contain a lot of guilt trips and passive aggressive statements surrounding the idea behind this quote.

If you REALLY loved me, you’d understand. If you REALLY loved me, you’d give me another chance. If you REALLY loved me……

I lived in a relationship like that for too long.

Yes, love means that you absolutely love the person despite their physical state, despite their mental illness, despite their trauma, despite their hurdles. Because the person is so much bigger and so much more than that alone. HOWEVER!!! Love doesn’t mean that you have to put up with being abused because they’re not putting in the work with their own issues to not hurt you. You can love them, and still walk away because you are important enough to not be a verbal or literal punching bag. Love isn’t being expected to fix their problems by constantly modifying your behavior so they don’t have to. Love isn’t being expected to constantly allow your boundaries to be crossed and disrespected.

Have open and honest discussions about any problems. Walk away when you feel you want to scream at each other. Find compromises when you can and work together on other options when you can’t. But do not bully the other person for having boundaries and do not allow yourself to be made to feel less human because you are sticking to yours.

I’m keenly aware that this is a difficult subject amongst the zebras. There’s so many in the discussion groups that I see where their partners up and leave because it just got too much for them. I’m not in their relationships, so I’m in no spot to even speculate on what happened or if there were other things that could have been done. I empathize with them because that’s an incredible pain, even if it happens to be mutual. I illustrated that fear in the very beginning of this post.

And I wanted to be angry about the quote. To make corrections and say that’s not always the case and how that can be a bad thing too. To warn people not to post things like that.

And the more positive turn that I promised…

Despite all of this, and some of the darker more intimate aspects of this thought process that I refrained from the elaboration of…I came back to that initial feeling I had about this whole quote.

I sat with all of these thoughts for a few days. I let all of the memories pass through, gave them their space, and “talked” to them. At risk of sounding like I’m anthropomorphizing them, the two sides kind of argued in my head. One was screaming that the post was dangerous and full of misinformation, while the other just kind of sat and softly smiled…with love. Simply existed, full of the love I’ve experienced thus far.

One of the things my therapist and I have worked on over our time together, was that if you didn’t have the love growing up? Give it to yourself. Be that source of love for yourself. Get help if you are incapable of doing that, because all of you are worthy of feeling that love. Doesn’t matter if you’re healthy or a zebra that’s a constant medical train wreck.

You are worthy of love.

You deserve love.

You can experience love.

Love doesn’t have to be happiness all the time. It doesn’t mean there will never be arguments. It doesn’t mean there will never be pain. It doesn’t mean hurt will be less in bad times. It doesn’t mean personal limits are negligible. But it means that you’re seen and appreciated for all that you are. That you can have the more painful discussions cushioned in that love you have for each other.

I didn’t have the “bad feeling” reaction to the quote because there’s actually something wrong with it. I had that reaction because the trauma part of my brain was trying to give me a warning to protect me. To remind me not to trust blindly just because *I* feel love towards someone. To remember that love is much bigger and much more significant than people who abuse the concept for their own purposes. To remember not to bleed my trauma over beautiful things, and instead sit and “talk” with it and divide the trauma response from the reality of the situation.

It’s also served as a personal reminder to how far I’ve come over the years. To remember that trauma isn’t ever fully gone, and that’s okay. It’s not a personal failing when it comes back, it’s an opportunity to reevaluate your beliefs and adjust or take action if necessary. To appreciate the love that I have in my life. And be grateful for the reminder that for as bad as things were…it’s learning to give that love to myself that opened up the ability to accept it from others. Though it can still be touch and go sometimes because brain chemicals are a pain in the ass, and it certainly doesn’t fix everything, it makes the world so much better to live in. Give the love you need to yourself, and it makes it easier to express it in healthy ways to others.

Because real life and human nature will always have boundaries. But love? Love doesn’t see the little things. It sees the most important things about ourselves and embraces the light that our soul creates. And feeling that, even if it’s just from yourself, is worth facing every hardship and every hurdle.

I wish all the love to each and every one of you.

I liken trauma to dropping a glass. Depends on the height from which you drop the glass, how badly it shatters. If it just slips from you hand and falls to the floor, the load is not too great, it may just have a couple larger broken pieces that can be more easily repaired. However, if you dropped that glass from a six-foot ladder, the fall to the floor will cause it to shatter into countless pieces. Pieces that must be picked up shard by shard to avoid further injury from its incalculable number of jagged edges.

Much like collecting each tiny glass shard from the shattered glass, picking up the pieces and mending layered trauma can be precarious, taking time and diligence. With the right help and tools in your arsenal, it often takes rewriting old scripts within the walls of our inner world and re-envisioning a different outcome in our corporeal world that has cut our feet far too many times. Healing is messy and the hardest part is that science and faith both agree that one cannot heal from trauma in isolation. It takes a leaning-in and reflective vulnerability to heal from our deepest cuts … when our most primitive reflex is screaming at us to dawn our protective ‘armor,’ and run. Sometimes even from those we know are our ‘safe’ people. No one said trauma made sense because it does not.

Every now and then, we have a chance to re-write an old traumatic even through a different lens when a similar set of circumstances arise, reminiscent of the inciting event(s). I have been doing intensive trauma work, both holistically and allopathically, for a couple of years now. I am blessed with some amazing practitioners who saw an opportunity for me to rewrite some of my ending through several upcoming, typically triggering (and often avoidant) situations that bring to the surface a heavy and familiar hypervigilance. My glass fell from a rather high ladder long ago, it shattered, and there is much to be re-written. In this instance, the combination of gender and role seem to represent five hundred of my thousand old, layered cuts in a billion little ways. In a nutshell, I have numerous chronic health challenges, significant medical trauma, trust issues with males (from a young age) and have had significant traumatic events with certain types of male healthcare providers (i.e., neurosurgeons, therapists, et al).

As fate would have it, I have a rather unexpected upcoming neurosurgery. Ironically, with a male neurosurgeon and I am working through the layers of PTSD that surround it, with a male therapist. They both seem to be wonderful humans and more importantly, safe. I think the universe is telling me this is my chance to right some wrongs and heal my soul, but, the choice to do the hard work is ultimately mine. What if facing my pain and fear through a different lens IS my chance to write a different ending this time? My chance to slay the dragons that relentlessly echo in my head and block my path forward toward a whole-hearted life? To quiet those, “Little Earthquakes” a bit more?

To change our respective stories, we first must do what feels like the impossible … we must show up and be seen. No matter how messy, bruised, battered, afraid, and tear-stained we are; no matter how hard it is. We MUST lean in and show up to move through it. That is not easy stuff.

Throughout this upcoming surgery and its subsequent recovery; I will choose to show up and be seen, knowing it will be uncomfortable and require a much higher level of awareness, vulnerability, and the ability to challenge old feelings of abject shame while quieting the internal raucous of past abandonment issues. This upcoming journey feels tenuous and daunting, but I think it is supposed to. If we stay comfortable in our fear and do not try to courageously peel back the layers and rewrite the stories that caused so many of the tiny cuts, we will never be able to change our ending nor help others change theirs by proxy.

My point being, take the chance to heal some of your cuts if the opportunity presents itself. The jacket will feel too tight at first and but when you see a chance to re-write a previously painful ending and you are in the right place and space to do so … seize it.

Hurt. Heal. Grow. Share. Repeat.

-S. Merek Southwick, PhD

As with a post I’ve done previously, I probably don’t have it in me to edit for eloquence as much as I would prefer. Do not consider my statements legal or medical recommendations of action for your particular situation. Anything I talk about, is my own experience and I urge you to do what you feel necessary to stay safe and healthy.

One last note before we begin, while the #MeToo movement was generally centered around women that told their stories, I want to stress that sexual assault does not have a preference as to who will be a predator or a victim. Absolutely nobody is, by default, incapable of being in either category simply by being a particular gender, sexual orientation, or life circumstance. A straight cis man can be a victim, despite that the majority of predators fall into that category. A lesbian AMAB woman can be a predator, despite that they’re more likely to be victims. There is a dangerous undercurrent in many group conversations that has been suggesting that certain groups of people should ALWAYS be believed over another. I want to make it very clear that I don’t feel there is, nor should be, any group of person that should be considered protected above others…despite that it may not be a very popular opinion on things.

I’m aware this is not a comfortable statement. But we must not face trauma with our own fears of not being believed. Predators come in all genders, in all sexual orientations, and all levels of physical ability, ect… There’s even victims that instead of healing their own trauma, turn into predators themselves. If your situation doesn’t fit the typical “strong cis male forces himself on weaker unsuspecting female” story that we’ve come accustomed to…this had no impact on the validity of your experience.

After a lot of work, both with people that love me and a therapist that has an amazing skill with trauma, I came to truly accept some things. These are things that I would have told, and HAVE told friends that have been victims. But…when it happens to you, it’s harder to believe it yourself. I’m sure I’ll repeat it later here and that’s only because I want to be very upfront; none of it was easy, but all of it was worth it. Having ones that I trust remind me of these things, gave me permission to believe it too. Dear reader, you may, or may not, know me, but sometimes a stranger’s permission to accept can be a great help. So…for anyone that needs to hear it….

It is not your fault.

There’s a lot of blame that happens in our culture when a victim comes forward. I don’t care what you were wearing, or if you started it, or if they misunderstood something as a pass, or if you were drunk, or if you were drugged. It’s not your fault. The fault falls 100% to that of the person that assaulted you. Unless you were literally asking someone to do this to you as a BDSM scene and you negotiated a safe word (which is a completely different circumstance) then it’s not your fault. I understand it isn’t easy. I was on some high pain meds after a surgery, and yet I still wasted time trying to talk myself into ways that that I could have been responsible. Think about that for a moment. Drugged up person, less than 48 hours after significant surgery to my ankle, was trying to figure out how it could have been my fault. The person that needed someone to give them meds and was so discombobulated they needed physical assistance in going to the bathroom. Was trying figure out how it could possibly be their fault.

Now that some time has passed, I understand why I tried to take that approach. It was someone I considered a friend. It was exceptionally difficult to think this individual would do this without a reasonable explanation, because friends don’t do things like that. It was easier to lie to myself about the truth of the situation by trying to take responsibility despite being drugged…than it was to accept that this person took full advantage of knowing I was greatly impaired on a medicine that would make memory incomplete.

This is something that is hard to accept for just about anyone. Not only do we have to come to the realization that the friendship was a lie as a whole, but it often creates feelings of suspicions on other topics. If one could make such a grave error in judgement in this situation, they may start to question if any of their friendships are real. And to come out of the darkness the situation brings, you’ve got to face those concerns (preferably with a good therapist as a neutral party rather than a friend that, by the nature of trauma, you may question the motives of later). It can slowly spiral into everything that’s beautiful and healthy. And I know that it can be painful and scary and terrifying, but you are worth the effort to give that gift to yourself. To be able to truly accept the reality of it not being your fault.

I certainly wasn’t excited about that particular part of the journey toward recovery, but, it’s also not a part of my nature to even entertain a lie to myself for very long. A terrible truth is more useful than a pleasant lie in my world. Facing temporary discomfort, no matter how intense, is better in the long term. Try and remember that on your journey as well. Whether your skirt was short, you got in the car, you asked them to help when vulnerable, you were drunk, you were too scared to say no. It. Isn’t. Your. Fault. If the person that assaulted you wasn’t a predator…would what you have done mattered as much?

It can happen to anyone

You are not weak or dumb or asking for it more than anyone else that it’s happened to. All you can do is protect yourself the best ways you know how. Just because sometimes it can still happen, it says more about the one that assaulted you than it does you. I know that, again, it’s not easy. We want to believe that there’s always a way to prevent it. That if we just do the right thing, that will keep us safe. It’s incredibly jarring to have to face that we ALL have times when we’re vulnerable. We can’t be hyper-vigilant 100% of the time and still lead normal lives. Or healthy ones for that matter. Though, our minds may try to tell us that this needs to be our new normal as it may become hyperfocused on trying to prevent this from ever occuring again.

This is a natural part of trauma for many people. Our brains try to take what happened and create a new set of rules in order to prevent it from ever happening again. So many people come up with tips and tricks like walking with keys between your fingers in a fist or a nail polish to dip in your bar drink to detect an added drug. But all the precautions in the world, doesn’t mean we’ll be perfectly safe. If military personnel can be sexually assaulted despite all their training and knowledge, then it can certainly happen to you too. While that can be fear inducing, try to use it to reflect back on how it’s not your fault. If it can happen to some of the best, then you are not less or flawed or broken or weak because it happened to you. As previously stated, it says more about the predator than it does about you.

Part of the reason I sought help for myself is because I know I couldn’t accept that truth on my own. But with another surgery coming up shortly after it happened, I couldn’t afford a scared and wounded heart going into it. I was not going to give myself the best chance of healing if I was still consumed by the trauma. Considering refusing pain meds so you stay fully aware, is not good for your healing. Considering trying to force your partner to stay conscious for 72 hours so you don’t have to even think about the chance it could happen with anyone, is not healthy. I refused to let it poison my chances of healing. Taking healthy precautions is great and knowing it could happen to anyone shouldn’t prevent you from doing so. But the take away here should be not to beat yourself up if the worst does occur.

It’s okay to feel however you feel about it

I know as much as we can understand things from a logical point of view, it doesn’t mean that emotions will be kind enough to follow suit. They’re going to do whatever they’re going to do. Anger, guilt, betrayal, fear, disgust, grief, hatred…no matter what feeling it is…it’s okay and normal. The important thing is to just acknowledge them, embrace them for what they are, and refrain from acting solely on just those emotions. Don’t focus on whether the emotions are okay to have. Sexual assault is a trauma, and as a dear friend reminded me, there’s no such thing as a minor sexual assault trauma, and trauma brings a mix of volatile emotions. So whatever your feeling is valid.

It is also valid to grieve the loss of what you thought was friendship (or whatever relationship it may have been) and still feel like you never want to see the person again. You can miss the person that assaulted you, the person you thought you knew. Just never allow them the chance to come back and do it again because of that feeling of loss. There is nothing wrong with you if you miss the relationship you thought was real. Those memories are valid. There’s nothing wrong with you if you don’t need to grieve right now too. You don’t have to have the same response as someone seeks to be valid. Contrary to what some will tell you, there’s no right or wrong way to feel after a trauma. The only right or wrong is action taken solely because of the emotions that come about.

Reach out to loved ones, but only for your sake, not for spite

Nobody should have to handle such a burden by themselves. So reach out to those that you trust and you know love you. Don’t do it because you just want to ruin the life of the one that assaulted you. Do it because you are a person that deserves love and support when dealing with a trauma.

When I reached out to the first few loved ones, it wasn’t to convince people to take sides or ask them to help me plot revenge. It certainly wasn’t a cry for attention so I could whinge about poor little me. My whole intention was that I refused to let someone not worth my attention have an impact on my life without taking healthy action about it. I was going to talk to those that I trusted the most to prove to myself that I could do it. Whatever the people I told did, was up to them. I owed it to myself to reach out, despite any fear of rejection.

Some of them were livid, some were full of sympathy, and some simply let me talk, but the important part is that I have been blessed so far that the vast majority have been full of love and support. And really…that was all I wanted at the time. A reminder that just because one person played a good game of pretending to be a decent human being, didn’t negate the fact that others were honest in their relationship. Prove that to yourself too. It isn’t about them, it is about you giving yourself the best chance at overcoming it in healthy ways. Confirm the bonds that you love and trust. Don’t let the trauma ooze onto the good things that you deserve to have in your life.

Predators will lie about what happened. It’s about them…not about you

As if the assault wasn’t enough, it’s not uncommon for someone that assaults you to lie to others about it in an attempt to invalidate your experience and your story. If they paint themselves as a victim, their hope is that the lie is believable enough for others to ignore your truth. Document everything as much as you can. Write down what you remembered happening as clear as you can. Screen shot texts. Think of any outside person that can disprove the lies being said. For my personal story, having someone else that was close by and the only one that administered my aforementioned pain meds with a surgeon that could speak to my state and past history with similar surgeries?

And though it may be tempting in the face of someone accusing you of something you know to be untrue…DO NOT LIE IN RETALIATION. Do not fabricate part of your story in an attempt to quiet the lies. Do not attack back in spite. Do not encourage, or allow without counter, others to lie about their involvement or awareness of your circumstances. There’s also a great benefit to living one’s life in the pursuit of truth. There’s no lies to uncover. No conspiracy to unravel. I know all too well how it feels when you hear lies about the event. Lies about who you are. But no matter how that feels…stick to truths.

No matter the reason they did it, no matter the reason they’re lying about the truth of reality. They are doing it because they don’t want others to know they screwed up. Their victim just happens to be the easiest whipping post because they’re typically scared and wounded from digesting what happened to them days, weeks, even months later. Not because the victim is weak, but because that is how trauma impacts the brain. I know it can be scary, facing a mess like that. But be honest to yourself, and don’t let the fact that they’re trying to get everyone’s who’s listening. Try to have faith that those worth your presence will not fall prey. And if they do? You’ve just outgrown them.

Never let your aggressor convince you that you need to talk one on one to work things out. Or that you poor thing, you’re so confused, if only you could have talked it out. Or that you’re the one throwing the friendship away. Or that you’re ruining their relationship with people. Or feel obligated to answer their questions. Hell…don’t feel obligated to even answer interrogatory questions from supposed loved ones if you aren’t okay with it right now. Don’t flay yourself in order to prove anything unless it is your choosing. Listen to those you trust if they’re worried about your well being as you heal during this time. But you owe your story to nobody.

Healing will take time and can show up in very unexpected ways

As I’m writing this particular section, it has been months since the incident. I went through two different rounds of some pretty heavy therapy. In my mind, I thought I had gotten over it and recovered because it wasn’t impacting my life………..that I noticed.

Unfortunately, part of the problem was I wasn’t noticing. I was blissfully unaware until very recently to be perfectly honest. Someone I have been quite close to for about 5 years now, asked if they could spend some time overnight with me. I was in a complete panic about it. You’d think that would be panic over Covid exposure? Nope. I don’t have any concerns there because he pretty much stays away from people too. No no. I was completely obsessed with things that were kinda nonsense. Want an idea? Take a took over at this previous post for an example of what my sentient ball of bacon jelly that calls itself a brain decides to go a bit crazy.

It took just venting to a trusted friend before I realized…the last time I fell asleep next to someone that wasn’t my primary partner…was the person that was supposed to be keeping me safe while recovering from surgery. Months later, my sentient bacon jelly still felt a need to keep me safe from anyone that wasn’t my primary partner. Despite the fact I’ve been close to this other person for five years and he’s one of the ones that helped me recover in the first place. Despite the fact that he’s seen me at some of my worst and still supports me in ways I don’t even always have words for. I was still experiencing remnants of trauma over the idea of falling asleep with them even close by.

But you know what? That’s okay. While it does bring up quite a bit of rage that I thought had completely cooled down towards my aggressor, I’m more furious at how trauma impacts things rather than upset over “Oh woe is me, poor me and my situation.” Because as soon as I realized it? It gave me the chance to work with it. I’ve spent the day messaging him about where my head is at, and it allowed a healthy conversation about how to move forward in safe ways.

Is it a shitty set of circumstances that lead to issues that can be intimidating to have conversations about? Yep. But having those conversations was the only way to face it. Refusing to let it get in between me and those I’ve gotten to share wonderful bonds with. Even though it was unexpected and months after the fact. Don’t let the trauma of the event dictate your life. You’re not failing if it comes back. You haven’t failed if you look back and realize that some of your new behaviors are trauma based. You haven’t failed if you have a flashback even years later. You’re only failing if you give in and stay there.

One of the most important things, is to get the professional help you need

Every location is different. Where I’m at, we have a FANTASTIC advocacy group that is very easy to talk to. Many areas have women’s shelters that will have a list of recommended therapists that handle sexual trauma specifically. There are also a number of lawyers that will provide a free consult to help you understand the proper measures to take in order to protect yourself and your rights as a victim. Some victims feel comfortable going to the police, while others do not. Though I encourage speaking up, I also have to acknowledge that everyone’s circumstances is different.

The first thing I did was I discussed my concerns with my surgeon during one of the post-op appointments to get an unbiased take on what the chances were it was a freak medication reaction. Making sure that there was no chance that my fragmented memory was, in fact, unprecedented hallucinations. When that was shot out of the water pretty concretely? I didn’t see any other option but to go to therapy. But that is my path and how I chose to walk down it.

You know your situation better than anyone else. Whether you quietly find a therapist or you go for the metaphorical throat of those that have wronged you. What matters above all else, is that you’re safe and taking steps to protect your own well being.

The faster one can take a trauma and process it in healthy ways, the faster we can also move on and live happy lives despite it. It has come up with several different therapists now. The longer you wait for help, the longer it will take to recover. It’s never too late, but if you get to it sooner, you remove more opportunities for it to ooze over more positive things in you life. So please…get professional help. Despite the stigma about it. Despite what those around you may think. Get help from someone trained in trauma specific therapy.

Because you are worth it.

You deserve to be happy.

You are not the trauma that happened to you.

And those that insist on using something out of your control to shame you or make you feel less worthy of having a life worth living…leave them behind with their choices. Because you deserve those that will support you in trying to make your life better.

I’m blessed to have a support network. And I’ve got a stubborn bitch of a personality. I may not always know the right thing to do or the best way to handle it. But I do know it’s always better to keep putting one foot in front of the other. Because I’m worth it. I’m worth all that effort and pain and fear and heartbreak it took to recover this far.

And if I’m worth it?

So are you, you magical fucking zebra, you.

When I would ask these questions, I would often get answers that circled around how forgiveness is about being the bigger person. This, to me, always seemed a way to be passively prideful and arrogant about one’s ability to be above others who “are so lowly they allow themselves to be angry”. In short, a way of victim blaming those who are angry about abuses they’ve suffered. Or how it’s about healing the self, which, if taken in my previously understood context…I didn’t understand how forgiving others had anything to do with healing myself. It always sounded like moral high ground nonsense to me. A continued way to lord over people how enlightened you are more than anything dealing with truly healing.

This concept of forgiveness, always felt dangerous to me. Like letting a wound close on the surface while ignoring what is festering beneath it. Or trying to accept that deep cuts are just something that should be as serious as a papercut. Gently wash and let it close. It’ll all be fiiiiiiiiine. Even the very concept talking to an abuse victim about forgiveness felt blasphemous.

I have suffered a very deep betrayal recently, that I don’t feel a need to discuss in detail, simply to illustrate why this topic has come up in depth recently. And someone I care for, had suggested that I work on the forgiveness of this person, to be able to honestly wish the best for them. And I struggled very much with this. Because I can’t. Nor do I want to. I have no desire to wish them well or happiness or anything of the like. Was I a bad person? Was this something I needed to work on?

It was this specific that I brought to my therapist, that I went back to seeing because of this particular trauma. While I had my own strongly held beliefs on it (which I will go into), I was going to her to help heal myself. If I brought this to her, and she could explain this to me in a way I could maybe finally understand, I was absolutely willing to put the work into changing my world view.

To start, she told me a story about a woman who’s son was shot and killed by another teenager. The woman, visited this boy in prison, chose to buy him things he needed, and care for him. Even invited him to live with her when his time was up. He asked her why she did these things, for the guy that took her son from her. Her response was about enough hate and pain being in the world, she wanted to bring healing to someone that actually needed it.

As I sat there listening, I was torn between two feelings. One, was that the ability for someone to make a change from a grave mistake and to be seen as a person was a beautiful gift. The other, was this kind of thing was exactly the kind of thing I had a problem with, expecting other victims to do this kind of thing. In the spirit of being honest in therapy, I expressed this, and I was shocked to hear that it was for that exact reason is why she shared that story. Even more so to hear that my therapist, the one I expected to explain why this sacrificial idea of forgiveness was something worth striving for…said there’s no way she could do such a thing.

The rest of the discussion, we went into different types of forgiveness. How she saw my personal approach to a lot of my trauma as reflecting of forgiveness where I had never seen it. Her experiences with forgiveness. How forgiveness is just a word that means nothing on its own. What it means to heal one’s self after trauma. The validity of emotions. It was a really fantastic experience that I found myself feeling a sense of great relief after. It’s what brings me to why I’m writing this.

So often, we’ve been hurt. Family members, doctors, lovers, bosses, strangers, partners, law enforcement…… And we’ve been hurt in so many ways. Lies, manipulations, sexual assault, gaslighting, physical abuse, murder, racism…. And then we’re told by society that we should be the bigger person and show love in spite of all of these grave offenses.

I don’t prescribe to that. For me, forgiveness was reserved for innocent mistakes that were so minor and/or understandable that they could be ignored in the future of one’s relationship. You forgot to pick up bandages on your way here like I asked, and I really needed them. Okay, not the end of the world, totally forgivable. Mistakes happen. Cause me trauma? Whether intentionally or because they’ve got their own trauma they’ve never taken care of? I’ve never felt a need to extend that kindness. I still don’t. I don’t have any inner need to wish them any kind of joy or happiness. I don’t care. They fall in a “might as well be dead” category. Not because I’m spiteful and full of rage, but because I honestly don’t care about their existence anymore. I grieve the loss of a family member, or friend, or whatever the relationship was to me, and then “snip snip” they’re let go and carry as much emotion as any stranger I’d see in passing. I have two people that were born into the same family, that will never be a sister to me anymore. They’re strangers. And I mean that with all the seriousness I possess. They could tell me that they’ve gone to therapy and have a happy relationship and turned their life around, and while I won’t celebrate the change, I’m not going to be bitter they’ve decided to be a better person. I just care as much as if some stranger in the grocery store told me the same. Uh huh…cool…good for you I guess? Go have your happy life, just do it away from me. We will never have a relationship, even if they take care of their own shit. That fact is absolutely okay with me. My grieving was done years ago.

The other half of this process, was to understand that they are still a person. They are a product of their growing up, their genes, their actions, and the consequences of those actions, and experiences out of their control. This is no way is an approval or an acceptance for what they’ve done. It is merely a logical acceptance of humans are terrible animals with the potential to cause terrible pain and horror for a variety of reasons that brought them to that point. It doesn’t cause an empathizing with them. Rather, it allows me to no longer agonize over the “Why did they do this?” question. Because if I can acknowledge that the reason someone I thought was a friend was just in reality, a toxic person that made poor life choices because they’re simply broken and currently incapable of being otherwise…the details no longer matter to me. It also makes it an easier thing to release them from my life. They’re just a broken person, but they’re not my responsibility. If I hold myself responsible for my own actions, I can refuse others access to my life if they refuse to do so. So when my recent trauma happened, and the person first insisted on talking to me to “work things out”, I was already at the point of detachment. Nothing they could say would make it okay, or change the trauma. They did an unforgivable thing in my eyes, so, there’s no reason to give them the courtesy of my time and energy anymore. They were just a broken person, that made bad choices, made excuses for their bad choices, and I excused myself from being any further part of that. Especially when I had spent so much time on therapy on moving past it…on me and removing the control that trauma had on my state of being.

To me, this act was also something I didn’t think of as forgiveness. This was self preservation. While I’m sure many will disagree, it was explained that my way of approaching things was actually a type of forgiveness. Yes, what I reserved for minor transgressions was a form of forgiveness. But healing to the point where the emotions of the trauma can be released so they’re no longer causing you suffering? That’s the same spirit of forgiveness, even though it doesn’t have many characteristics of the other. If the emotions are no longer hurting, and you’re able to heal….then why try to expose yourself to further trauma for the sake of some imagined moral high ground? What can be gained from that? Isn’t it important enough that the cycle of trauma is broken? It’s a forgiveness of the circumstance rather than the individual.

When we spoke about it in that context, a part of me celebrated that I was being told that it’s not the mark of a terrible person to refuse to offer forgiveness to another. Whether they ask for it or not. Whether they make an effort for change or not. It’s okay to have your own limits as to what you can handle for yourself. It’s okay for someone to be able to go to the killer of their son and offer them forgiveness, but it’s just as okay for another mother to never hold forgiveness for the same kind of person. Neither one is better, as long as whatever they do allows them to heal for themselves.

If going to your abuser and offering them love and kindness they probably need to heal helps you release your own pain and suffering, that is an extraordinary gift and go for it. If you choose to cut off your abuser, mourn the loss of who they are to you, and learn to move forward and find new joys? That is an extraordinary gift that you’re giving to yourself. One is not better or bigger than the other. And if that’s hard to digest…what has more meaning? A crude handmade gift because the person has very limited finances or the gift that was bought with love and consideration? Or maybe, just maybe, they’re both equal of meaning because each is doing what they can with what they have.

In our lives, we have and will continue to have so many experiences in which we will be hurt or will hurt others. Some of them, we will be able to apologize and/or forgive. Some of them, we won’t be given the opportunity no matter how desperately we wish for it. Some of them, we will be unable to out of conscious choice. The important thing, as far as I’m concerned, is that we move forward with awareness and compassion. Whether this compassion needs to be directed to only the victim or the aggressor, or to be shared with both…I’m not about to tell anyone what they need to do or feel. Life is too complex for the answer to be simple as our society would have us believe.

I do believe that it has enriched my life to be able to see those that have visited trauma upon me, as people. Not as people doing their best, or victims of circumstance, or as monster…simply as people. I am comfortable in the fact that is where my compassion for those people ends. I’m also okay with the fact that some see my take on things as encouraging negativity or some such thing. That’s their cross to bare, not mine. I’m content to focus my energy on healing my own trauma so it releases any emotions that aren’t my responsibility to carry. I’m good with sometimes the challenges I face in my life don’t leave me with enough energy to spend on caring for others that have proven to not have my best interests at heart.

If all of that wasn’t enough? Being angry on a constant basis is exhausting. To be angry over what some broken person did all the time? I don’t know about any of you…I don’t have time for that. I have my health to worry about, walks to take, wildlife to meet, and plenty of art to make. I have friends, blood family, and chosen family that deserve much more of my time and attention. More importantly? I deserve that positive interaction.

So whether you call all of that forgiveness, or you have a different vocabulary for it, I hope how you move forward only goes to bring you profound peace for you, and you first and foremost. And in case you need to hear it…You’re allowed to cut off those that have hurt you no matter how they’ve changed or how many times they apologize. Even if you’re married, or they’re your parents, or they’re your best friend. You’re allowed to not feel love for them anymore, just as others are allowed to forgive completely. It’s okay if others haven’t forgiven you, they aren’t required to, so do the important work that it will take to forgive yourself. Do what you can to be the best version of yourself, and screw the idea that your version of forgiveness has to look the same to everyone else to be valid.