I want to help my abusers.

I am unquestionably a different person to how I would have been had my childhood been peaceful, and if the biggest trauma in my life were deadlines. (Near the top of the list, needless to say).  I don’t follow media, or fashion, or politics. Frankly if people want to spend their lives promoting human rights and freedom, and then being at each other’s throats and back-stabbing for the want of power, and doing ridiculous things just to get their photograph taken, then fine. I’ll just let them get on with it, and maybe one day they’ll wake up to the total hypocrisy of the entire system. On what planet can you hope for children to believe you when you say bullying is not tolerated, when all you bloody well do is bully fellow politicians?

I’m going to stick my neck out here and wait for the hate mail. Society is a system of bullies. I spoke a couple of weeks ago and said “so many good people wouldn’t want to believe they support a rapist, or are a bully.” It’s true. But if they took half a second to look at their own behaviour, they may realise what they’re doing, and then stop. If you blame a victim for the trauma she went through, because she was in the ‘wrong clothes’ or in the ‘wrong place’, and if you turn a blind eye because it’d be ‘too much’ to get involved, then think very carefully about who you are supporting. Equally, western society exhausts me. It’s all one big competition. I have spoken many times about not doing a degree at all, to be faced with a wall of protests. Why? Why do I need a degree? I’m doing one, but if something better comes up, or an opportunity for me to reach others then I’ll take it. People are more important than a bit of paper which may or may not allow me to earn more. I am not interested in ‘climbing a ladder’ or earning money. The ladder is non-existent. The ladder is fed to us as an image right from being a child.

Personally, my own ladder is more important than what society says my ladder should be. I have no interest with getting a well-paid job sitting behind a desk and climbing upwards. No, thank you. What good does that do? So I can afford Sky instead of freeview? Wup de doo. Meanwhile children are lost in rings, living on the streets, dying of starvation, and sold for sex. But it’s okay, I’ll climb the ladder and get myself some money, and join society with the closed-eyes ‘each man for himself’ reality. Everyone is judged on their appearance, the media scrutinize every possible role model’s actions. People see something they don’t understand, or don’t like, or just doesn’t ‘fit’, and they close their eyes.


What frightens me is that without the pain I’m currently in, and have been in, I would probably be the same. Another sheep in the herd. I would listen to the news and not question what the media says. I would be more judgemental, even without knowing it. I would just follow the norm. Of course not everyone is close-minded, by any stretch, but the way society runs is all about everyone being in competition with each other. And money. Always the bloody money.  As it is, I wasn’t brought up in this society, so I’m coming into it with fresh eyes. It’s safer, kind of. Happier, in a way. But also much more depressing. I kid you not, I’ve seen children and adults laugh more in torture rings than I see on an average day in the high street. What the f*ck is that about?

People say to me sometimes, ‘don’t you want to do something? To get the [abusers] back?’

Aggression won’t resolve aggression. If I seek revenge by going at them all gun’s blazing, is  that going to teach them anything? There’s the smallest chance that me just being compassionate, and helping others in pain rather than trying to hurt my abusers will actually help the abusers. Sounds mad? After everything they’ve done, why would I want to help them? I’m in such a mess at the moment, barely able to leave the house in one piece, terrified of some unknown situation. I want to die. I desperately want to die. I’m living in a blur. I’m stressed. I want my babies. So much. I want to hold them again. I want the pain to stop. I don’t know if it ever will. I feel the only thing I’m good for is being sold for sex. My body hurts. I’m going to the doctors again tomorrow. PTSD hurts. Physically. Who knew? I have nightmares where I re-live awful memories. Flashbacks too. For fuck’s sake I thought it was normal for people to shove a corkscrew, or lighter, or knife, or rolling pin inside you. I thought everyone knew that pain. How many times have they torn my heart to pieces?

And I want to help them. Because that’s the only way I can cope with this. It’s the only way I can stop the pain from totally destroying me. They took everything away from me. Except compassion – that they actually fuelled. Having seen so many people in so many different levels of pain, and having also been put on the path where they try everything to force me into becoming one of them, I know there are  some lost souls who were never shown compassion. If they had been, I think they would have been able to fight against the blackmail and threats more. They’d have actually believed it was worth it. I can’t have my children back, but I know the pain of losing them. So I’ll speak out in the hope that another girl or woman finds the courage to escape before she feels this kind of heartbreak. I’ll speak out in the hope someone who might be lost and falling down the wrong path, realise they aren’t actually abusers and in fact deserve/need help. I’ll speak out in the hope that it makes my abusers finally feel the shame they burdened me with, and the fear. The fear that despite their best efforts, I did not turn into a monster. I did not turn aggressive. I did not stay with them. I did not become an abuser to block out my pain. I did not give them my voice. Despite their best efforts, I am still able to quietly speak out, and just gently nudge people if they start to stray, and in turn they nudge me. I’ll speak out in the hope that survivors see it’s possible to recover, and in the hope that victims see it’s possible to escape.

I do not judge the people who hurt me. God knows what horrific circumstances led so many of them to lose their hearts. I do not hate them. I pity them, and resent them for the pain I’m in. I want to help them. I want to help them find themselves before they hurt others, and lose themselves even more. If I see a situation I don’t like, or don’t understand, I don’t turn a blind eye. I ask. I try to learn. To understand if I can help at all.

I’m in so much pain. So much. But I just want to keep talking, in the hope that I can reach people with my pain, and lead them to safety. And meanwhile, wake society up. I have seen a lot of people recently wake up, like they’ve come out of some mad hibernation, and see the darker side of the world for what it is. And you know what? Those people who are willing to see, willing to hear, willing to help…their hearts are truly beautiful and powerful.

And we all innately have that. We are not born knowing what hate is. We are not born looking for revenge for whatever situation we are born into. We are not born instinctively stereotypical and judgemental. We are born simply able to love. Remember that.



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