A Survivor’s Story. Part Two
It’s difficult to trust when you have been a victim for a long time. It’s easy to become a “professional victim” — suspicious, hesitant to build relationships, even toxic.
And when you find your voice finally, and begin to speak up, the words don’t always come out right. And you find yourself apologizing. And deciding if you are over apologetic, or not apologetic enough. You second guess yourself. And third guess and fourth guess. And you freeze again. Waiting. Like a deer caught in headlights (a cliche, I know).
I would like to apologize to those who feel like they were mowed over, over looked, helpless. People who didn’t see, because they couldn’t see.
Release yourself from the guilt, the shame. Don’t be defensive, because I am not attacking you.
We want to find someone to blame. Someone to shame. We point fingers. “You should have done this. You should have done that. It’s your fault.”
And recollections for an opportunity to have conversation, and learn, and move forward, are clouded by emotion, and “the game”.
Eventually, someone cries uncle, says “enough”, and people part ways, most likely to never follow up. And so, the cycle perpetuates. Each in their own corner. The divisiveness grows. The chasm widens. Until someone brave enough tries to be the bridge, the gap filler, the mediator.
And the cycle begins again, and the martyr falls, and the fingers point, the sneers echo.
But again, another rises. “Suspend disbelief” it says. “Let it go” it says. “It’s not your fault” it says.
And so you take a breath. Lift your head from the ground where you tried to hide, tried to bury yourself, and you Emerge. Butterfly kisses. Fly. Fly away.