I find writing cathartic and recently I’ve been wanting to write but I’ve felt too afraid to let my fingers find the keys. After getting a lot of upsetting comments about my words I suppose I reverted back to holding my thoughts, emotions, and experiences inside. Sharing my experiences makes me vulnerable and I didn’t quite appreciate just how vulnerable I am until I had several negative remarks. Words can be used to empower someone but also they are strong enough to tear someone down with one move; similar to a game of Jenga. I suppose over the last few days I’ve remained on the ground, unable to find enough courage to build myself up again. Until now. Don’t get me wrong, I am terrified of a similar backlash from this article however this isn’t about specific people who are no longer choosing to be a part of my life; it’s about myself and my journey. I just choose to bring people alongside me to attempt to help them in their own.
Growing up you develop this form of identity and a reputation of sorts. This can change over time due to people’s opinions or the versions of yourself you show to others. Who you are is a personal journey and I’m finally grasping that allowing other people, especially people who judge and don’t know you, define you is a fatal mistake. How can you have an identity that someone has simply handed to you? It's you who chooses who you are. Yes your genetics can’t be altered, but you as a person can’t be a set of DNA. Humans are far more beautifully complex than a bunch of cells provided by two people. Too many years I have spent letting other people call me names and define the person I am. Fat, ugly, the other twin, too shy, too clumsy, geek, too thin, disgusting, beautiful, sexy, horrible, insane, mad, crazy, etc. I could go on. But these are merely words because mad for instance doesn’t sum up an identity. It gives you a reputation of being different and ‘insane’. I mean surely all mental health patients are mad, right? But doesn't that mean we all are? Because I don’t know about you but everyone I’ve met seems to have a varying degree of mental health struggles.
People write things about me all the time and their chatter remains inside my head for many years after. According to many I’m ungrateful and I have made horrendous accusations about someone who’s only fault was loving and supporting me. It makes me sound incredibly disrespectful and dare I say it a horrible person. But then just because someone says you are something, it doesn’t make it fact. A personal view doesn’t mean you are that view and even your own view is ultimately opinion and up for debate. Nothing about reputation or identity is set in stone or factual. It's fluid and changeable. When it comes to allegations of sexual abuse there comes a time when people choose sides; be that a conscious or unconscious decision. I never asked people to side with me (or him for that matter) but just because I didn’t ask them to it doesn’t mean people won’t make a choice. I can’t control what people do or don’t do. That’s just how life is. Leaving the family home prior to reporting my father to the police was not the easy decision many make it out to be. It wasn’t about being selfish or wanting to seek revenge upon anyone. I did it to protect other people and gain some perspective on the situation. I still feel overwhelming guilt around leaving my family and that’s something that will remain. In the taxi to the refuge I was crying my eyes out because the magnitude of leaving was hard to accept. It wasn’t an impulsive choice but I hadn’t exactly realised the impact such a decision could have not only upon myself but to the rest of my family too. This was my final goodbye to the majority of my family and unpacking a tiny suitcase felt like climbing the highest mountain in the world. I broke down several times that night and I reached for my phone to call them over and over. I told a white lie; I said to my mother I’d gone to a homeless shelter. Close enough I suppose.
Letting go of negative comments is difficult especially when they tap into your core beliefs. It’s harder still when the comments continue long after the case has been dropped. I want to make one thing clear; a case being dropped does not mean someone is not guilty of the crime they were charged with. If people knew that this time I was incredibly resistant to even reporting then maybe they’d understand the love I still hold for not only my father but my wider family too. I was so against it I went months allowing him to break my ribs and leave me black and blue repeatedly. I went months risking my life to refrain from the negative comments that I knew would hit me like a tonne of bricks upon opening my mouth to the police. But even months after his bail was dropped and he was “proved” innocent I still get hurtful remarks thrown my way. I want to scream that they got what they wanted but it’s no use. They will still hold the same grudges created from that day in March 2015 when I made the decision to report him for the first time. I’m told over and over that I’ll get karma for what I’ve done and I stare blankly at the words thinking about how much karma I’m already experiencing. Being on an Acute Psychiatric ward for nearly ten months and suffering the after effects of trauma on top of having barely any family left... Isn’t that enough? Obviously not for someone with my reputation. Because I’m mad and I made it all up, right? A lot of people think that and I have gained a lot of enemies over the years. Funnily enough this started a long time before even reporting. I had to listen to remarks about my "voluntary" Anorexia and putting the family through such a terrible ordeal. I was treated like some sort of alien because I’m different and I can’t fully contain all my emotions. I was told just how ungrateful I was everytime I swallowed handfuls of pills because being suicidal makes you selfish. I’m sorry about that; for them not for me. People like to play on your flaws, paranoia, and insecurities to make themselves feel better. Pushing rage onto the other person feels a hell of a lot better than experiencing it yourself. Denying a horrific truth is easier than acknowledging that an allegation could potentially be accurate. You make it your mission to find evidence from anywhere to guarantee your comfy seat within denial. Luckily for my family I have a mental health diagnosis. It’s a literal get out of jail free card and they feel the need to utilise it over and over again.
I have a bad reputation amongst many and I’m not okay with that but it is how it is. I have discovered that when I openly explain my experiences to professionals all of a sudden my behaviours and thoughts make complete sense. Factually a Trauma Unit wouldn’t accept a patient if the patient wasn’t believed to have experienced trauma. You can’t exactly fake Dissociation and definitely not flashbacks/nightmares. I could be the actress they say I am but in reality I’m absolutely terrible at lying. I can lie about my emotions but when it comes to what actually happened? Lying is impossible and trust me I’ve tried to lie because being honest about abuse is very hard to accept. I’d rather be within the denial of my family but it’s just not possible for me. I’ve found it’s best to try and balance their comments with my own version of events. You have to place their knowledge and emotions into context when understanding their behaviour. I mean you’d be a terrible sister or brother to think that this person abused their own child. No wonder you would fight with immense anger to rectify the situation. Therefore it's understandable when context is explored on a deeper level. That’s why I always try to not argue so much because it only leads to more anger and more attacks. Instead I use my words to grasp where they are in that moment and carefully navigate my way to balance my experience with theirs. It's not easy to do but it is something I’ve worked hard to attain in therapy.
All things considered I am doing better than I ever was in the sense that I am finally accepting the right treatment and not cycling through EDUs and Acute Psychiatric Wards. I know that to truly heal and move forward I need to face up to why I am the way I am and not just my behaviours. Self hatred has driven me to continue upon a path towards hurting myself and accepting comments reaffirming this hatred isn't all that helpful. This is why I’ve decided it’s best to finally metaphorically lock the gates around me. I only allow people inside who build me up rather than crumble me down to the ground. I will continue to hold on tightly to the keys so that if I ever feel like letting them back inside, I can. But I have to accept that in the mean time they have the decision to walk away and that they might not be there when I’m ready for them to be. You lose people you never want to lose in life. But I have learned that they end up losing you too. I need to let people make their own choices and not feel so eager to jump in and change their minds. They can say I made it all up if that helps them to move on. They can believe what they need to believe and see their “side” as fact and I need to be okay with that. I don't need them to believe me to prove what he did; I can trust myself. It’s taken years to admit to myself what he’s done and it will take years to accept it. If I can manage to keep those gates locked whilst I work hard to heal myself, I will put myself in greater stead to manage the trauma. He stole my choices but I know that now I can make my own decisions. This may be terrifying right now but it will ultimately set me free. I’m not a defenceless 10 year old girl anymore; I’m an adult. I don’t need someone creating an identity, reputation, or narrative for me. I define me and I show people the person I truly am. I have the pen and ink to write my own story. And this, I guess, is growth.
