Friday, 6 September 2013
If one more person calls me a “High functioning survivor “ I will bloody scream!
It seems we are damned if we do, damned if we don’t!
If I continue to cry all over the place, hang my head in a “Diana like” pose, constantly talk about my “suffering” ,ask for unending sympathy, for allowances to be made for me, then I will always be seen as a “victim” and ripe for further abuses, either by being patronised or exploited, or by succumbing to mental illness, going back into active addiction, or suffering one of the many other unpleasant fates of people such as I.
And of course, I have been there, there was a time when I could hardly string a sentence together.
If however, I fight like a tiger, try and transform all that shit into manure, In order to make some sense out of something that cannot be changed,and use some of that manure in the support others, then I am a “high functioning survivor” who, it is further implied has “got over” what happened to her!
Well heres the THING!
These wounds NEVER heal, they may sometimes be on the surface, they may at other times be hidden, but wounds there are and they hurt like fuck!
It is bad enough that when ever I am asked questions they tend to be about the physical details of sexual abuse, rather than the severity of the damage caused, without my then having to wear it on my face all the time in order to be acknowledged , or receive compassion.
The facts are that childhood clergy abuse is FOR EVER.
It damages our brains, our metabolic and immune systems and shortens our life expectancy. It is passed on ,and further affects the next generation, and the next.
I myself have NINE life threatening ,or life limiting conditions, as a direct result of that damage, and that does not include any of the addictions or mental and emotional effects. But if I prefer to get on with what remains of my life rather than moan publicly all the time about what could have been, it appears that I don’t any longer warrant concern???
Those people with their opinions do not see me crying at seemingly unrelated things, they are not privy to my nightmares, they don’t feel my isolation or self loathing. They do not appreciate my need for constant vigilance to avert my descent back into addiction, they do not hear what my children may have to say about growing up with a damaged mother.They don’t witness my paranoia or fear.
It feels as if they would prefer us to stay in the problem, rather than to find some sort of solution.
Well to hell with that!
“High functioning Survivor “ should read “Survivor- Prize fighter”
which is a whole lot better than the alternative, which for me, I am quite sure, would be insanity or death.