Dear acquaintance at moderate proximity to my life:
Hi. I've gotten this far without you running away, you're reading this blog. Or maybe (more likely) you're someone who knows me better and is reading this blog because you care about me already. Either way, this letter is addressed to the people who will probably never read it... for catharsis on my part, but for empathy for my everyday situation for you.
In any case, hello you. We might have met in passing or had a quick interaction in one or two social situations. We had a class together in college, or met at church, or we had a common friend and you didn't really talk to me but you were just a witness to the spectacle that is my social interaction. I probably don't talk to you, I probably wouldn't initiate a conversation with you if I saw you somewhere, you may have never really talked to me and I guarantee you don't really know the first thing about me.
Let me address the things you may have heard about me... I can't say that I've heard most of them, but I don't have to hear from the horse's mouth to get the gist. I'm a maneater, I'm one of those girls that you get close to just to realize how insane I am, I'm a homewrecker, a slut, I'm inactive in my church, I'm weird, I'm awkward, I'm unstable, I'm clingy/desparate, I'm just way too much.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. Some of those are more justified than others (I just love how often women resort to certain words and phrases to talk about each other... not). I mean, I have more self awareness than you realize, even if I don't feel the need to prove anyone/everyone wrong. Mostly, I'm an enigma.
On that note, can I tell you what I actually am?
I am brave. I lay it all out on the table, totally vulnerable, to anyone who sincerely asks to know me. It doesn't come quick or without effort, but I do it. That is incredibly brave. It is especially brave because of the circumstances of my life and how traumatic and tender those experiences are.
I have struggled with immense abuse in my life, learned how to set boundaries as an adult for the first time, been the glue that's held a lot of people together that should have been there for me, and continue to aid in many healing processes from this trauma (from a safe distance) while continually being denied acknowledgment that these things did happen for me from the largest majority of those with whom I interact.
Most of my deniers are church-goers, and no, not just my more ignorant peers. I choose to not hold this against them, understanding that they cannot empathize and that my relationship with my Savior is the depth that I need.
I am brave because I reach out to others in need.
I am brave because I speak even though I fear retaliation from my abusers or from people who don't want to believe that they are abusers.
I am brave because I can speak against abuse without withholding forgiveness.
I am brave because even though I hesitate for a very long time multiple times a day to advocate for myself and ask for simple help, I still do it.
I am brave because I insist that people talk about it. If shining a light in a dark corner is too uncomfortable to do, the corner never gets light and you'll never help anyone who's stuck back there.
I am un-assuming. When a difficulty comes up in my life, I generally hide it because I don't want to watch my supporters struggle, either. I am working very hard on letting people be there for me, and knowing that they want to be there for me. But as a rule, I will not feel in any way entitled to help or support. I have never been given things in my life - even things that were really human rights. I wasn't given an opportunity for self-discovery and individuation, for independence or respect for my way of thinking. I decided that I can give those things to myself. If I ever ask for help, I'm pretty far gone on my ability to handle things. I struggle to watch other people make sacrifices for me. Recently, I've experienced the rapid breakdown of my health (an ongoing struggle, but this phase is the worst). It's been very hard to lose my mobility, experience near-constant and excruciating pain, and most of all - help everyone else deal with how they feel about my illness. I don't assume that my needs are more important than anyone's. Perhaps my biggest betrayal is to myself: I will not tell you if I'm standing with you in agonizing pain. You probably won't know that I'm in any pain until I'm panting or vomiting or fainting or begging for the ER. I am learning to do better for myself in this area, but please know that the people that I reach out to are the ones that I trust with this difficult information.
I am un-assuming because I trust that I will have my needs met someday and I try to be patient while they're largely ignored.
I am un-assuming because I don't want recognition, just respect.
I am un-assuming because I don't want to wear a cape or stand on a pedestal, I'm smart enough to know that the spotlight eventually only highlights faults.
I am un-assuming because the best people in my life have led by example of being un-assuming - helping quietly, without admiration and without fanfare.
I am tender. Visiting teaching has taught me something that does not get said enough. Dating and sexual abuse within the LDS church is common. I am a private person. Sharing these raw experiences (and this whole letter, for that matter) is excruciating for me. I don't like to do it. But when the spirit calls upon me to tell someone who's suffering about the experiences I've had (sexual abuse or otherwise), I do it. It's awful, and it's awful for her... but here's the thing. Some of the things in this life that we experience at the hands of others are so awful that we can't just go take the sacrament and feel better. We have to sort through some awful feelings before we can get there. Think of it like recovering from a serious sin. When you recover from a serious sin, there is a process. It doesn't go away instantaneously. You may backslide a little in your recovery and have to pick yourself up from there. Rape does this to you, too. Acquaintance, this is an uncomfortable topic for you, I know it. Please don't shy away from it. When you freeze up because you don't know what to say to me and you don't want to say something wrong, it's worse than when you say something stupid or even when you get defensive because you didn't do it. Don't just ignore me because I've had dark experiences. It has taken me many years to reach down inside the deepest portion of my soul and find a way to help people with this (and other) experiences. And I do. You wouldn't believe how long I've been a rallying point for outcasts, for the wounded and the broken. They need me and I would not desert them, so long as I have the resources for my own safety and well-being (and I would contend that even when I take time to myself, I am not deserting them). Here's the thing most remarkable about my tenderness: I forgive. It is a powerful thing, forgiveness. It is not a one time act, it's an ongoing attitude of humility and love. So I am a healer in the process of my abuser's repentance, whether they choose to (some do) or not.
I am tender because I try to (and often do) help people that others don't want to get involved with because the topics of their pain are too messy.
I am tender because I know the feeling of immense physical and emotional and mental pain and not a bit of me is vindictive.
I am tender because I have a spiritual gift for understanding and empathy.
I am tender because I have feminine grace and potential for motherhood.
I am tender because I love deeply and fully and without abandon.
I am hard-working and resilient. Sometimes it's just too much, especially in the times where I was a cohort in denying my own sense of self. I explode from time to time, and not on the people who are at the root of the flood of hurt, but usually on someone in proximity. I don't realize that I'm playing a blame game with the wrong party, I generally am beyond rational thought and reason at that point. This has cost me immensely and I regret it deeply. In my process of healing, I've come to understand that distance from those that emotionally manipulate me is the difference between me being sane and me having psychotic breaks. It takes a lot of work to re-wire your understanding of the world, and I have to go back to the times with my Dad, before he died, before the trouble started. I've had to re-work my world from age 11. After that time, bad things happened (which I won't detail more than has already been alluded to... I'm not here to blame or call out or incriminate anyone, I simply must speak my truth). After that time, I didn't have the chance to be an adolescent or do any of the things a kid needs to do during that time. So I've had a lot of work to do when I started my healing process about a year and a half ago. I've come this far in this amount of time, and I am honestly grateful to be alive and honestly grateful for my experiences. There are even some times where I can muster gratitude for the times I had with people who wronged me, because I like who I am today. The reality is, what you've seen and known of me has been the reflection of immense amounts of pain, and I'm getting better everyday.
I am hard-working and resilient because I can't stand to sit by while others do work.
I am hard-working and resilient because contributing something meaningful has been a balm to my wounded self-esteem while I was yet in the process of healing.
I am hard-working and resilient because I don't believe that gifts just jump out of nowhere, you have to invest in them and show that you really care to have them.
I am hard-working and resilient because it makes not sense to not be.
I am hard-working and resilient because joy is in my nature, because I have a childlike sense of wonder and I know that happiness is a choice, not conditional upon happy circumstance.
I have the ability to accept others exactly as they are. This is a learned trait as the result of my experiences. I don't think of others as 'in progress' or a project, I simply support them. Even in the times where I take space from others, I do my very best not to judge or think less of them. I am able to keep this attitude because I know that I wouldn't want every behavior of mine to be reflected back as a character flaw. At any given moment, I want to see myself and others through the lens that my Heavenly Father knows - total and utter understanding and empathy for all the things that led up to that moment in time and who they are in that moment at their deepest depth, and where they're going after that moment. If I thought that the things that had gone wrong for me were punishments of some kind, I would feel terrible about who I am as a person. Hell, I used to. I used to listen when others implied that I was in some way responsible. I don't anymore. No one, no one anywhere, deserves, earns or is responsible for being abused. Emotional, verbal, physical and sexual abuse are all real and all damaging in equal portions, if in different ways. If you have experienced them, do not listen to anyone who tells you otherwise. You are a treasured child of God. Go do some research. Be careful of who you talk to at first, because you are sensitive and there is little understanding, especially in cases of verbal and emotional abuse. You are entitled to help. I am going on the record here and now to say I will be a resource to you if you need it, even if only to validate that your experience entitles you to recovery.
I have the ability to accept others because I battle every day for a sense of self-worth and self-acceptance.
I have the ability to accept others because I pray to see them how Heavenly Father does.
I have the ability to accept others because of my spiritual gift of empathy.
I have the ability to accept others because I've never met anyone I didn't attempt to see something good in and invest in and compliment that quality.
I have the ability to accept others because I don't have to find reasons to mistrust them. I let everyone have equal tries, and if they betray my trust I enact boundaries, not judgement.
I am a disciple of my living Savior, Jesus Christ. This is the beginning and end of all the traits that I've listed, that I possess, or that I hope to gain. If it weren't for my road with my Savior (albeit rocky at times), I wouldn't have been able to get to this point. He is the hope that I have for the future.
The qualities of the Savior that speak to me at this junction in my life are:
Gratitude
Humility
Charity
Grace
Intelligence
Wisdom
Loyalty
Solidarity
Willingness to weep
Trust
Honor
Respect
I find myself in those qualities more and more everyday. And that is where I glean self-worth from what seems, in simple and quick description, the dregs of broken circumstance in my life. I don't need to go around saying it all the time, because people who claim to represent Christ... well, they don't always do such a bang up job of it, because they're not him (and we need to forgive them, too). However, I do sometimes make a statement about it because it is deeply important and the ruling ethos behind the way that I perceive and interact with the world.
So, stranger, that got quite deep. Maybe you're not a stranger anymore... or maybe you didn't realize I don't really think of anyone as strangers, just someone I haven't had the privilege of exchanging stories with just yet. Hopefully I'm less of an enigma. To you and even to the friends who knew me well.
If you take issue with or offense from anything I've written here, I hope you will have the grace to address it to me and not personalize anything that was non-specific. If you have questions regarding this information, you may ask me, but I also ask that you respect my right to refuse you information and trust that I wouldn't do so without good reason.
With love and admiration,
Shareeta
In any case, hello you. We might have met in passing or had a quick interaction in one or two social situations. We had a class together in college, or met at church, or we had a common friend and you didn't really talk to me but you were just a witness to the spectacle that is my social interaction. I probably don't talk to you, I probably wouldn't initiate a conversation with you if I saw you somewhere, you may have never really talked to me and I guarantee you don't really know the first thing about me.
Let me address the things you may have heard about me... I can't say that I've heard most of them, but I don't have to hear from the horse's mouth to get the gist. I'm a maneater, I'm one of those girls that you get close to just to realize how insane I am, I'm a homewrecker, a slut, I'm inactive in my church, I'm weird, I'm awkward, I'm unstable, I'm clingy/desparate, I'm just way too much.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. Some of those are more justified than others (I just love how often women resort to certain words and phrases to talk about each other... not). I mean, I have more self awareness than you realize, even if I don't feel the need to prove anyone/everyone wrong. Mostly, I'm an enigma.
On that note, can I tell you what I actually am?
I am brave. I lay it all out on the table, totally vulnerable, to anyone who sincerely asks to know me. It doesn't come quick or without effort, but I do it. That is incredibly brave. It is especially brave because of the circumstances of my life and how traumatic and tender those experiences are.
I have struggled with immense abuse in my life, learned how to set boundaries as an adult for the first time, been the glue that's held a lot of people together that should have been there for me, and continue to aid in many healing processes from this trauma (from a safe distance) while continually being denied acknowledgment that these things did happen for me from the largest majority of those with whom I interact.
Most of my deniers are church-goers, and no, not just my more ignorant peers. I choose to not hold this against them, understanding that they cannot empathize and that my relationship with my Savior is the depth that I need.
I am brave because I reach out to others in need.
I am brave because I speak even though I fear retaliation from my abusers or from people who don't want to believe that they are abusers.
I am brave because I can speak against abuse without withholding forgiveness.
I am brave because even though I hesitate for a very long time multiple times a day to advocate for myself and ask for simple help, I still do it.
I am brave because I insist that people talk about it. If shining a light in a dark corner is too uncomfortable to do, the corner never gets light and you'll never help anyone who's stuck back there.
I am un-assuming. When a difficulty comes up in my life, I generally hide it because I don't want to watch my supporters struggle, either. I am working very hard on letting people be there for me, and knowing that they want to be there for me. But as a rule, I will not feel in any way entitled to help or support. I have never been given things in my life - even things that were really human rights. I wasn't given an opportunity for self-discovery and individuation, for independence or respect for my way of thinking. I decided that I can give those things to myself. If I ever ask for help, I'm pretty far gone on my ability to handle things. I struggle to watch other people make sacrifices for me. Recently, I've experienced the rapid breakdown of my health (an ongoing struggle, but this phase is the worst). It's been very hard to lose my mobility, experience near-constant and excruciating pain, and most of all - help everyone else deal with how they feel about my illness. I don't assume that my needs are more important than anyone's. Perhaps my biggest betrayal is to myself: I will not tell you if I'm standing with you in agonizing pain. You probably won't know that I'm in any pain until I'm panting or vomiting or fainting or begging for the ER. I am learning to do better for myself in this area, but please know that the people that I reach out to are the ones that I trust with this difficult information.
I am un-assuming because I trust that I will have my needs met someday and I try to be patient while they're largely ignored.
I am un-assuming because I don't want recognition, just respect.
I am un-assuming because I don't want to wear a cape or stand on a pedestal, I'm smart enough to know that the spotlight eventually only highlights faults.
I am un-assuming because the best people in my life have led by example of being un-assuming - helping quietly, without admiration and without fanfare.
I am tender. Visiting teaching has taught me something that does not get said enough. Dating and sexual abuse within the LDS church is common. I am a private person. Sharing these raw experiences (and this whole letter, for that matter) is excruciating for me. I don't like to do it. But when the spirit calls upon me to tell someone who's suffering about the experiences I've had (sexual abuse or otherwise), I do it. It's awful, and it's awful for her... but here's the thing. Some of the things in this life that we experience at the hands of others are so awful that we can't just go take the sacrament and feel better. We have to sort through some awful feelings before we can get there. Think of it like recovering from a serious sin. When you recover from a serious sin, there is a process. It doesn't go away instantaneously. You may backslide a little in your recovery and have to pick yourself up from there. Rape does this to you, too. Acquaintance, this is an uncomfortable topic for you, I know it. Please don't shy away from it. When you freeze up because you don't know what to say to me and you don't want to say something wrong, it's worse than when you say something stupid or even when you get defensive because you didn't do it. Don't just ignore me because I've had dark experiences. It has taken me many years to reach down inside the deepest portion of my soul and find a way to help people with this (and other) experiences. And I do. You wouldn't believe how long I've been a rallying point for outcasts, for the wounded and the broken. They need me and I would not desert them, so long as I have the resources for my own safety and well-being (and I would contend that even when I take time to myself, I am not deserting them). Here's the thing most remarkable about my tenderness: I forgive. It is a powerful thing, forgiveness. It is not a one time act, it's an ongoing attitude of humility and love. So I am a healer in the process of my abuser's repentance, whether they choose to (some do) or not.
I am tender because I try to (and often do) help people that others don't want to get involved with because the topics of their pain are too messy.
I am tender because I know the feeling of immense physical and emotional and mental pain and not a bit of me is vindictive.
I am tender because I have a spiritual gift for understanding and empathy.
I am tender because I have feminine grace and potential for motherhood.
I am tender because I love deeply and fully and without abandon.
I am hard-working and resilient. Sometimes it's just too much, especially in the times where I was a cohort in denying my own sense of self. I explode from time to time, and not on the people who are at the root of the flood of hurt, but usually on someone in proximity. I don't realize that I'm playing a blame game with the wrong party, I generally am beyond rational thought and reason at that point. This has cost me immensely and I regret it deeply. In my process of healing, I've come to understand that distance from those that emotionally manipulate me is the difference between me being sane and me having psychotic breaks. It takes a lot of work to re-wire your understanding of the world, and I have to go back to the times with my Dad, before he died, before the trouble started. I've had to re-work my world from age 11. After that time, bad things happened (which I won't detail more than has already been alluded to... I'm not here to blame or call out or incriminate anyone, I simply must speak my truth). After that time, I didn't have the chance to be an adolescent or do any of the things a kid needs to do during that time. So I've had a lot of work to do when I started my healing process about a year and a half ago. I've come this far in this amount of time, and I am honestly grateful to be alive and honestly grateful for my experiences. There are even some times where I can muster gratitude for the times I had with people who wronged me, because I like who I am today. The reality is, what you've seen and known of me has been the reflection of immense amounts of pain, and I'm getting better everyday.
I am hard-working and resilient because I can't stand to sit by while others do work.
I am hard-working and resilient because contributing something meaningful has been a balm to my wounded self-esteem while I was yet in the process of healing.
I am hard-working and resilient because I don't believe that gifts just jump out of nowhere, you have to invest in them and show that you really care to have them.
I am hard-working and resilient because it makes not sense to not be.
I am hard-working and resilient because joy is in my nature, because I have a childlike sense of wonder and I know that happiness is a choice, not conditional upon happy circumstance.
I have the ability to accept others exactly as they are. This is a learned trait as the result of my experiences. I don't think of others as 'in progress' or a project, I simply support them. Even in the times where I take space from others, I do my very best not to judge or think less of them. I am able to keep this attitude because I know that I wouldn't want every behavior of mine to be reflected back as a character flaw. At any given moment, I want to see myself and others through the lens that my Heavenly Father knows - total and utter understanding and empathy for all the things that led up to that moment in time and who they are in that moment at their deepest depth, and where they're going after that moment. If I thought that the things that had gone wrong for me were punishments of some kind, I would feel terrible about who I am as a person. Hell, I used to. I used to listen when others implied that I was in some way responsible. I don't anymore. No one, no one anywhere, deserves, earns or is responsible for being abused. Emotional, verbal, physical and sexual abuse are all real and all damaging in equal portions, if in different ways. If you have experienced them, do not listen to anyone who tells you otherwise. You are a treasured child of God. Go do some research. Be careful of who you talk to at first, because you are sensitive and there is little understanding, especially in cases of verbal and emotional abuse. You are entitled to help. I am going on the record here and now to say I will be a resource to you if you need it, even if only to validate that your experience entitles you to recovery.
I have the ability to accept others because I battle every day for a sense of self-worth and self-acceptance.
I have the ability to accept others because I pray to see them how Heavenly Father does.
I have the ability to accept others because of my spiritual gift of empathy.
I have the ability to accept others because I've never met anyone I didn't attempt to see something good in and invest in and compliment that quality.
I have the ability to accept others because I don't have to find reasons to mistrust them. I let everyone have equal tries, and if they betray my trust I enact boundaries, not judgement.
I am a disciple of my living Savior, Jesus Christ. This is the beginning and end of all the traits that I've listed, that I possess, or that I hope to gain. If it weren't for my road with my Savior (albeit rocky at times), I wouldn't have been able to get to this point. He is the hope that I have for the future.
The qualities of the Savior that speak to me at this junction in my life are:
Gratitude
Humility
Charity
Grace
Intelligence
Wisdom
Loyalty
Solidarity
Willingness to weep
Trust
Honor
Respect
I find myself in those qualities more and more everyday. And that is where I glean self-worth from what seems, in simple and quick description, the dregs of broken circumstance in my life. I don't need to go around saying it all the time, because people who claim to represent Christ... well, they don't always do such a bang up job of it, because they're not him (and we need to forgive them, too). However, I do sometimes make a statement about it because it is deeply important and the ruling ethos behind the way that I perceive and interact with the world.
So, stranger, that got quite deep. Maybe you're not a stranger anymore... or maybe you didn't realize I don't really think of anyone as strangers, just someone I haven't had the privilege of exchanging stories with just yet. Hopefully I'm less of an enigma. To you and even to the friends who knew me well.
If you take issue with or offense from anything I've written here, I hope you will have the grace to address it to me and not personalize anything that was non-specific. If you have questions regarding this information, you may ask me, but I also ask that you respect my right to refuse you information and trust that I wouldn't do so without good reason.
With love and admiration,
Shareeta
Comments
Post a Comment