Frequently people will express their shock and sympathy because of abusive acts I’ve had to endure or go through; at what the abuse was. I too feel horrified and shocked, and spend a large proportion of my life lost in thinking about memories and how totally messed up it all was and how sick it was and how I somehow have to live the rest of my life with those memories….somehow.
But the cruellest apart about abuse is more subtle than that. Their priority was in the present, always. Hurt me, either for pleasure or to keep me silent at that specific moment in time so I didn’t speak out at that point. Hurt me because at that point they wanted to see my tears or my fear or feel my body reacting to being in so much pain. Everything was a present moment plan. I don’t suppose they ever properly thought about what the aftermath of it all would be. I don’t suppose for a moment they even expected there would be an aftermath – I would be their’s forever. Simple. Why plan for something they would never expect? They expected me to be their toy always, and for their trauma to keep me silent, and so they could carry on as they were doing.
The shift in the current must be throwing them as much as it is me. I am used to having to live in the moment. I couldn’t plan for a fight, because I didn’t know what the fight would be. I just had to take each horrendous ordeal as it came, and find a way of surviving it…with just a few seconds or minutes to plan, or even just thinking on my feet. This is how my mind is set when it comes to stressful things. This makes living in the normal world seemingly difficult. Things that shouldn’t stress me out, do, and things that should stress me out, don’t…and my planning coincides with that.
Now the world is all more future-based. I squeaked my voice and suddenly it’s running away from me, and I can’t go back to silence anymore.
But, in a funny way, this is the cruellest part of the abuse. Of the whole thing. Yes everything was horrific, and yes it was extreme and traumatic and just evil the things that happened. Yes their ability to control my mind and my life and manipulate everything was cruel. But the cruellest part is the fact that it is I who has to pick up the pieces.
What is that all about? Is it any wonder victims sometimes just prefer to keep it all locked away and not talk about it? The responsibility of the abuse is all the abusers. They did it. They inflicted that pain. But…as a survivor I have to not only make it through the raw recovery process…but also take THEIR responsibility onto MY shoulders to do something about it.
What the FUCK is that about.
They will not take responsibility so I have to carry this huge burden on my shoulders and either let it destroy me, or do something about it (and have that no doubt destroy me instead). The level of responsibility is huge. And terrible. And shouldn’t be mine in the first place. Bits should definitely be mine – I did things wrong too. But the whole picture? The whole burden of every shitty event? That’s not mine to carry. And yet it became mine the moment I started remembering. And now the load is just unbearable.
Why is this. Why is it they can carry on their lives and feel no burden, and I have to carry it all for them? Why is it I can’t just recover and go and live a fluffy life, but rather I have to now do something which terrifies me because the responsibility is suddenly mine, not their’s? How is any of that fair?
I will never have my life. I will never live a life free from memories, from stress, from pain. I cannot just simply recover and move on, because the responsibility has been placed on my shoulders so it is ME that has to do something about it all, even though it was them who fucked up in the first place.
That’s the cruellest part, for me. That I can’t live like any normal student. That I can’t just get on with life, recover and process and move on and just strive forwards. I can’t. Because all of their shit is on my shoulders because I was the only one with enough of a conscience to take the responsibility, which had to go somewhere.
As a child it wasn’t my responsibility. As an adult, it is. It is now all mine. It is crushing me. I’m exhausted and depressed and just want the fucking “out” card now to run and just escape from all of this. Take the responsibility down with me. Just be finished and gone and STOP living in so much ‘effing pain and weariness.
‘But that’d be running away from your responsibility’, I hear you say.
Well. The responsibility of this extent was never mine to carry.
And yet, it fucking is. And now I have to work out what the hell to do with it.
It’s all so unfair and cruel and makes me so sick that even without them right in front of my faces at this moment in time, they are succeeding in destroying me and hurting me…with every single heartbeat I am reminded that I am still here, with this huge weight on my shoulders, and mass pain in my heart, and just sick to death of everything…
Their responsibility which is now my burden is the killer. I wonder if they knew this, really.
Fuck it all. It’s just so cruel. I have no sodding choice but to keep going so I can fix THEIR shit, irrespective of what I actually want to do. thkjwergbwjrnwkrbwkrnbw .