On Strength. And Warnings.
Jun. 29th, 2009 09:17 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
litoteaseMy stepdad used to say "God takes turns kicking everybody. Sometimes, it's just your turn to get kicked."
Those of you who've been on my flist for awhile probably won't be surprised to hear that I have a vested interest in the "warnings" discussion. I'm actually not triggered by most of the major triggers; I love non-con, and dub-con, have only lovely associations with anything BDSM related, and I hang out in Supernatural. so clearly incest in general isn't a problem for me. But there are certain other themes that most people do warn for that I will avoid (I have only been sideswiped three times in ten years of reading).
I will never, ever read a fic from an author I don't know when it's marked "Choose not to warn" unless it has been vetted in some way (I ♥ my del.icio.us network). But please understand that I am very, very grateful for that note.
None of this is why I'm posting.
I'm posting because I am furious at the number of (people I thought were) decent, caring folks who are referring to survivors of abuse and assault as "fragile, delicate, mentally ill." It brings out the Mother Bear in me.
We are some of the strongest people you know.
Some of the "please give me tools" crowd are struggling with mental illness -- and my heart goes out to you all; my mother was mentally ill and I know, I know. But most of the posters aren't coming from a place of illness, they are coming from a place of injury.
For a survivor, the "illness" model can be a comfort (I wept the first time someone said "PTSD," "dysthymia" and "dissociative disorder" -- I'm not crazy, I'm not alone, there's a name for this). But "illness" is not accurate -- anymore than having blood in your urine because someone held you down and kicked you in the kidneys is due to an "illness." While there are illnesses that can cause the same symptoms, THAT'S NOT WHAT HAPPENED TO ME. To most of us who are speaking now.
I have had two therapists, 20 years apart, tell me the exact same thing (both of them with tears in their eyes -- Hah! I've made two therapists cry, FTW!). Statistically, I should be an addict, an abuser, or a suicide. That I am none of those things (I have come perilously close to all three) is a testament to how well the coping strategies I developed as a kid -- the ones people are calling me "ill" for having -- have worked. Yes, I have the emotional equivalent of a limp, my emotional balance is at times precarious, but I'm still fucking standing.
There is nothing "delicate" about me, or anyone who is still standing.
For me, for many of us, it's a matter of pride (something I was punished for having). If I kill myself, the motherfuckers win. If I lose hope, the motherfuckers win. If I'm too isolated or afraid to ask for help when I need it, the motherfuckers win. I WILL NOT LET THE MOTHERFUCKERS WIN. (So there, ptffft!)
So I am appalled at the number of people who have suggested in this discussion "Well, if you're so fragile that you have to ask for help, maybe this isn't the place for you." Asking for help is an act of courage for some of us, and if you can't see that, well. Kiss. My. Ass. I'll survive you, too.
I have trust issues; this is not a surprise. I have intimacy issues; this is not a surprise. Every time I reach out to one of you -- slowly, carefully, because I know better than many that people are not always as they first appear, or as they appear from the outside -- it is a victory for me. I plan on winning.
Everyone who told their stories in this discussion, who exposed themselves to potential humiliation and vitriol to try and explain, has my heart. And, as with every round of wank, I have a better idea than I did before of who I want to hang around with in this crazy place, and who I want to avoid (though I am saddened by some of the additions to the "avoid" list), and that's never a bad thing.
And if you find yourself friended or subscribed to in the next little while, that's me. Being strong. Standing. Winning.
ETA: a title to this puppy. Which is probably the real reason I don't write; I'd have to come up with titles
Those of you who've been on my flist for awhile probably won't be surprised to hear that I have a vested interest in the "warnings" discussion. I'm actually not triggered by most of the major triggers; I love non-con, and dub-con, have only lovely associations with anything BDSM related, and I hang out in Supernatural. so clearly incest in general isn't a problem for me. But there are certain other themes that most people do warn for that I will avoid (I have only been sideswiped three times in ten years of reading).
I will never, ever read a fic from an author I don't know when it's marked "Choose not to warn" unless it has been vetted in some way (I ♥ my del.icio.us network). But please understand that I am very, very grateful for that note.
None of this is why I'm posting.
I'm posting because I am furious at the number of (people I thought were) decent, caring folks who are referring to survivors of abuse and assault as "fragile, delicate, mentally ill." It brings out the Mother Bear in me.
We are some of the strongest people you know.
Some of the "please give me tools" crowd are struggling with mental illness -- and my heart goes out to you all; my mother was mentally ill and I know, I know. But most of the posters aren't coming from a place of illness, they are coming from a place of injury.
For a survivor, the "illness" model can be a comfort (I wept the first time someone said "PTSD," "dysthymia" and "dissociative disorder" -- I'm not crazy, I'm not alone, there's a name for this). But "illness" is not accurate -- anymore than having blood in your urine because someone held you down and kicked you in the kidneys is due to an "illness." While there are illnesses that can cause the same symptoms, THAT'S NOT WHAT HAPPENED TO ME. To most of us who are speaking now.
I have had two therapists, 20 years apart, tell me the exact same thing (both of them with tears in their eyes -- Hah! I've made two therapists cry, FTW!). Statistically, I should be an addict, an abuser, or a suicide. That I am none of those things (I have come perilously close to all three) is a testament to how well the coping strategies I developed as a kid -- the ones people are calling me "ill" for having -- have worked. Yes, I have the emotional equivalent of a limp, my emotional balance is at times precarious, but I'm still fucking standing.
There is nothing "delicate" about me, or anyone who is still standing.
For me, for many of us, it's a matter of pride (something I was punished for having). If I kill myself, the motherfuckers win. If I lose hope, the motherfuckers win. If I'm too isolated or afraid to ask for help when I need it, the motherfuckers win. I WILL NOT LET THE MOTHERFUCKERS WIN. (So there, ptffft!)
So I am appalled at the number of people who have suggested in this discussion "Well, if you're so fragile that you have to ask for help, maybe this isn't the place for you." Asking for help is an act of courage for some of us, and if you can't see that, well. Kiss. My. Ass. I'll survive you, too.
I have trust issues; this is not a surprise. I have intimacy issues; this is not a surprise. Every time I reach out to one of you -- slowly, carefully, because I know better than many that people are not always as they first appear, or as they appear from the outside -- it is a victory for me. I plan on winning.
Everyone who told their stories in this discussion, who exposed themselves to potential humiliation and vitriol to try and explain, has my heart. And, as with every round of wank, I have a better idea than I did before of who I want to hang around with in this crazy place, and who I want to avoid (though I am saddened by some of the additions to the "avoid" list), and that's never a bad thing.
And if you find yourself friended or subscribed to in the next little while, that's me. Being strong. Standing. Winning.
ETA: a title to this puppy. Which is probably the real reason I don't write; I'd have to come up with titles
no subject
Date: 2009-07-01 05:37 pm (UTC)I go into paroxysms of rage when people make these comments about other survivors, but I frequently have a very hard time not thinking them about myself--like somehow I should be able to move past it, that admitting, even to myself, that what happened left lasting scars is some sort of failing on my part, despite intellectually knowing how ridiculous that is.
I had to cut myself off from the whole thing, just because it put me in such a bad place, but I'm so glad you made this post and that I had the chance to read it. You made me cry, but it was the first time I've cried in a good way about anything related to this, and that's kind of an amazing feeling.
I'm glad you're still standing. I'm glad we all are.
no subject
Date: 2009-07-02 06:26 am (UTC)that what happened left lasting scars is some sort of failing on my part
I know, and other people feed into that, like one should be able to just get over it -- and that's nuts.
I mean, if we were talking about the predictable, ongoing physical symptoms and ramifications of a physical assault, nobody (including ourselves) would suggest that we were weak for living with them, dealing with them daily; in fact, we'd be seen as brave. But talk about the predictable, ongoing psychological symptoms and ramifications of assault, and we tell ourselves "I'm weak because I'm not over it."
No. No, we're fucking not. We're human. And if we can still get up, and face the world, and have hope, and faith, and risk reaching out to others in spite of it all, we're amazing.
::hugs you again::
(Also, I've had your LJ bookmarked for years, because I was too shy [read "terrified of strangers"] to let you know I was there. DTTE owns my heart. May I friend?)
no subject
Date: 2009-07-02 07:06 pm (UTC)*hugs you so much for this* This just... we never think about it in terms like this, that getting through it and going on with life is sometimes an accomplishment in itself, but it's really true, and it's such a... relief, almost, to frame it that way, not "There's something wrong with me because I still have scars," but "I'm still here, and just the fact that I healed enough to scar is a lot more than some people get." I'm saving this post to read the next time I go into panic or self-blame mode--I'm also very lucky in that it's only happened to me very rarely, but god, it's debilitating when it does.
And yes, please, I would love if you friend me, and hope you don't mind if I do so as well. I have to warn you though... um. I am still deeply in love with Sam and Dean, but I'm pretty in love with the Jonas Brothers now, as well, which is scaring some people. I try to put it all behind cuts!
no subject
Date: 2009-07-02 09:39 pm (UTC)