Choice and Blame

You've probably seen it: "that exam totally raped me," "this monster in (video game) is raping me," ad nauseum. Such careless use of rape as a metaphor for something unpleasant is absolutely acceptable; throwing around the word so blithely demeans survivors of a terrible crime and desensitizes people to an issue already commonly misunderstood or ignored.

I just read this article on how Kristin Stewart, star of that terrible movie Twilight, compared the intrusive nature of the paparazzi to being raped. I of course still think that metaphor is unacceptable, for many reasons, but the article brings up an interesting point. One argument commonly made is that celebrities choose to seek out publicity, so therefore they have a choice, while rape is a violation in which the victim has no choice. However, the end of the article states:

"There are choices when it comes to being an actor, yes, but much less choice when it comes to celebrity, and making that distinction comes really frakking close to blaming rape victims because of what they wear or how they behave."

(Then the article goes on to say that Kristen Stewart took on an "indie movie" and is simply "living up to her contract and suffering through the consequences of a film's publicity, not her own," which I think is a bit of a ridiculous statement, but let's ignore that and return to the original debate about the nature of choice.)

What do you think? Does the above quote make sense? I have to admit that I am still unsure of my own opinion, so I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Song: "Nightminds" -- Missy Higgins

A touching song about supporting someone through dark times.



Just lay it all down
Put your face into my neck and let it fall out
I know, I know, I know
I knew before you got home
This world you're in now
It doesn't have to be alone
I'll get there somehow, 'cause
I know, I know, I know
When even springtime feels cold

But I will learn to breathe this ugliness you see
So we can both be there
And we can both share the dark
And in our honesty, together we will rise
Out of our nightminds, and into the light
At the end of the fight
...
And in our honesty, together we will rise
Out of our nightminds
And into the light at the end of the fight 

Site: National Center for PTSD

http://www.ptsd.va.gov/

The National Center for Posttraumatic Stress Disorder (NCPTSD) is sponsored by the United States Department of Veteran Affairs, but its work (as well as its website) is a good resource for all trauma survivors, not just military veterans. On the website you can find fact sheets about PTSD and its various causes as well as links to other good resources and information on how to find a mental health care provider for yourself, a family member, or a friend. 

What I think stands out about the NCPTSD's work is the PILOTS database-- Published International Literature On Traumatic Stress. The goal of the project is to index every academic work published on PTSD, no matter what language or journal it is published in. If you might benefit from reading academic studies on trauma, this is definitely a great resource.

Also, this summer I will actually be working on PILOTS with Dr. Fred Lerner and his team. Best volunteer job ever! I am thrilled to have this opportunity. :D

Anniversary

The two-year anniversary of my rape was last weekend. I couldn't find the words to write a blog post. I cried the moment I realized the weekend's significance, and sunk into a depression until my D* held me and helped me out of it. Then I spent that Weekend with him and was mostly fine. On Saturday night, when my mind was filled with intrusive memories and fear and misery, he held me and the storm eventually passed.

But now I am back to being alone, and the thoughts have settled in again. This morning I could not bring myself to get out of bed. I do not remember having bad dreams last night, but I woke up feeling numb, miserable, afraid, closed-down. I passed the morning under the covers with my laptop, doing everything I could just to pass the time. Finally I willed myself to eat something, and my numbness loosened up just enough for me to accept that the memories and emotions are back.

I have been reading survivor stories and allowing myself to cry. Some of the stories echo my sentiments and sometimes even my very own words. I cry because of the reminders; I cry because some wounds are still fresh; I cry because to this day I still grasp for validation even though the pain is there right before my very eyes. Even though I saw my symptoms, I still feel inferior, ashamed, to call myself a rape victim when so many others have experienced trauma worse than mine.

Right after it happened it was too easy to convince people-- no one argued with me, and everyone just accepted that it happened, because he was a jerk and he was gone, never to return anyway, so it required little effort to throw support behind some words. Words, but few actions. Words drift away. Words fade away. Two years later, all I know is that I feel alone because I do not, cannot, tell my friends when it hurts. I tell D* sometimes, but then I feel awful because it just becomes another weight for him to bear. I tell my therapist when I see her, but somehow nothing really helps these moments-- they have to come and go on their own.

It is lonely. My covers are warm and my laptop is a decent connection to the outside world, but I am lonely. Perhaps I will return to Pandora's Aquarium again, to seek out a group of people who might understand. Still, though, the pain, the exhaustion, the tears-- they are mine to bear. I don't know how to reach out to people when most everyone thinks, or wants to think, I am healed. I don't know what anyone can do to help me. Somewhere in my mind I know that I have a good future and that my life is not solely made up of the Event, but right now it is a distant thought shrouded by the fog. I have at least been able to stay safe and not harm myself-- that is one relief. But how do I escape this fog? And more importantly, can I let myself, or will my ability to move on deny me the validation I still yearn for?

When I am happy, I feel guilty. I feel as though I have lied. Because if my experience really had been that bad, I would still be suffering. The more I suffer, the easier it is to accept that my pain is legitimate and okay and real. But then another voice whispers that it has been two years, and maybe it is finally possible to reconcile those two things, that the event could still be intrinsically and truly awful, yet it is okay to heal.

I still struggle to convince myself that being able to walk away from pain doesn't lessen the severity and true, legitimate horror of the event. For some reason, I cannot simply accept that it is okay to fully heal, or even to want to heal. Instead, I fight my body's desire to seek relief and happiness. Sometimes I seek exposure to triggering media in order to immerse myself in the familiar numbness and pain. I would try to explain that behavior by calling it an attempt at mastery, but that's not it, either-- if I were trying to re-expose myself to traumatic thoughts to prove to myself that I am stronger, I would not be so hesitant to break the spell and return to my happy, carefree self. Instead, I sink. Am I waiting for someone to rescue me? God, I hope not, because I don't know who could, or would. What am I waiting for? Why do I do this? Two years later, I still don't have good answers. The memories of the Event do not burn as brightly as before, but dull pain is not much better than fresh pain. Dull pain brings with it the worry that I will never heal.

It is 6pm and my entire day has been lost in the fog of my mind. The solution is not as simple as taking a bubble bath or treating myself to some soothing tea or music or books. Crawling out of the fog has never been that simple. Do I talk to someone, or do I hide? Do I stare at mindless things on the internet, or do I bury myself under the covers and will everything to go away? Do I ask sleep to overtake me in the chance that all will reset, or do I struggle to stay awake because I am afraid the next day will just be more of the same? What should I do?

I don't know. I just don't know.

Another Hiatus

Dear Blogland,

I am terribly sorry for not having posted as much these past few weeks as I had wanted to. I stressed out a lot over application essays and ate chocolate. All my applications are finally done (huzzah!) as of this afternoon but alas, I will shortly be leaving for Thailand. I have arranged to volunteer and shadow doctors at three hospitals there while I am also visiting family for the first time in almost ten years, so that'll be a blast.

I do not think I will have the time or the capability to write posts while I am there, so unfortunately I will have to put this blog on hiatus until I return to the States at the end of March. Take care of yourselves, and I wish you all the best! See you in five weeks.


Cheers,
Sayrina

Beyond bruises

After being in several abusive relationships, the thing that took the hardest hit was my self-esteem. I don't think my shaky sense of self-worth even has much to do with the sexual assaults-- those events affected certain parts of my self-esteem and identity, but really the damage comes from partners who regularly hurt me and said it was all my fault. What that led to was the serious, deep-down conviction that I am broken or tainted, that I can't do anything right, and that I can't have/don't deserve a healthy relationship. Those feelings have resurfaced several times during the last month with D*; I overreact to something, get upset, cause a fight, and then become convinced that this is evidence that I can't do anything right in a relationship. I've set myself up a self-fulfilling prophecy, and it's a cycle I'm finding it really difficult to break out of. I know it's there, I recognize it for what it is, yet I still can't stop myself from following the path I've laid out.

What an insidious aftereffect. *shakes head* Abusive relationships that lack physical violence often get overlooked or brushed off by outsiders. Some people think, how bad could it actually be? The answer is: bad. In an ironic way, it can be worse without physical violence because that's the only thing society seems to accept as clearly wrong. If you weren't hit or kicked, it's difficult to find validation for your experience. How can I explain to people what it was like to be screamed at everyday? to be constantly made to feel stupid and worthless? How can I explain how quietly, insidiously damaging that is? I've had trouble, honestly. I usually don't identify myself as a survivor of domestic violence because of it, not only because I worry it minimizes what others ("real survivors of DV") have gone through, but also because I feel like no one will believe me.

The other day I found myself faced with a huge myth about domestic violence. A friend of mine said something that I thought was just a tasteless joke, and so I reproached him for it. He said, "Who said it was a joke?" He honestly believed that women who stayed with abusive boyfriends did so because they secretly liked it. I was flat-out flabbergasted. There was so much wrong with that statement that I didn't know where to start. It makes me wonder how many myths about domestic violence exist today in society. I often hear about rape myths, but I think the line between right and wrong about rape is much more clearly marked in society's minds than it is with domestic violence. Society seems to heavily favor looking the other way when a problem arises between two people who are involved in a relationship. All kinds of rationalization occurs to explain the existence of clearly abusive relationships-- for example, the belief that she stays with her abusive boyfriend because she secretly likes it. It doesn't occur to people to think about the other reasons she can't leave, like forced financial dependency, threat to herself or her loved ones, or having nowhere to go. That last one is particularly intricately involved with society's views on domestic violence-- you aren't received and accepted in society as a refugee from something terrible if society doesn't believe your situation was that terrible. Refugees of war-torn countries are more easily accepted here because war and violence in another country are easy to condemn, and therefore sympathy can easily be extended to those refugees. A woman fleeing from an abusive partner may not find such sympathy in her peers.

Perhaps accepting that domestic violence exists and is a terrible and painful thing is too much for society to handle because it strikes too close to home. I guess it's the same reason that women are often the harshest critics and least sympathetic peers of rape survivors-- if they accept the reality of rape or domestic violence, then it could happen to them. Better to deny it than accept that frightening reality. Ignorance is bliss? I don't know.

Returning to the original point of this post-- self-esteem. That's been my hardest struggle, believing that my abusive relationships are over and that my new relationship with D* doesn't have to be like them. I have so many insecurities to work through, so much fear to have to wade through, with just blind faith to guide me to the other side. I have to believe that things can work with D*. I have to believe that the abuse and assault has not left me broken or tainted. I have to believe that I have healed a great deal and can and will continue to heal further. I have to believe, and belief is terrifying. However, many brave survivors of sexual and domestic violence have been able to cultivate healthy, loving relationships, and therefore so can I.

The Pros and Cautions of Volunteering

My volunteer work with WISE has finally gotten underway. WISE (Women's Information Service) is the local crisis center here that deals with sexual assault, domestic violence, and stalking. It is a wonderful place with wonderful people, and I couldn't be happier about volunteering here. The building is warm and homey, and the best thing about it is that there are dogs! I love dogs. They're big, lovely, friendly dogs, and they definitely add a touch of comforting personality to what could otherwise be an intimidating place. Unless you don't like dogs, I suppose. :-(

It looks like I won't be able to do actual crisis work (i.e. staffing the 24-hour hotline) because I am leaving the States just a few days before the February training session and then the next session is so late in the spring that I will pretty much be leaving Hanover right after it is done. The project I'm currently working on does feel very rewarding, though. I am reorganizing, editing, and updating the volunteer advocate resource manual. So far I have reorganized some chapters and moved around bits of information that seemed out-of-place, and now I am going through each organization listing one by one and verifying the organization name, address, phone number(s), and website. There are definitely things that are out-of-date, so I feel useful, not just like some glorified copy-editor.

Last night, while I was going through the list of local crisis centers and particularly their 24-hour hotlines, I was struck by an overwhelming sense of gratitude to the volunteers who keep them running. It was so touching and humbling to realize exactly how many organizations there are just in the New Hampshire/Vermont area, how many crisis lines there are, and therefore how many people are needed to staff them so they can be open 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Dear volunteers, you're the best.

Even though my work is superbly rewarding, I am starting to realize that overexposure is possible. Last night I was reading a movie summary for Precious (having known nothing about its plot) to see if I wanted to go see it, and I discovered that rape/incest play a pretty big part in the movie. Then I found out that Slumdog Millionaire also involves rape. I went a little numb in that way I always do when rape gets brought up, and so I couldn't work on my applications. Instead I decided to do some more work with the resource manual. That basically involved looking up websites for crisis center after crisis center, and therefore thinking about sexual assault and domestic violence for two hours. I didn't think much of it, and in fact felt pretty good about doing something useful, but then I couldn't sleep last night. I got a few hours of very restless sleep towards the morning, but anxiety is still fluttering in my stomach and I don't quite feel right. I think it is from overexposure to issues surrounding rape the last few days (since quite a few of my application essays talk about my experiences as well).

I am learning to set boundaries, though. A year ago I probably would have followed the compulsion to continue steeping myself in these issues until someone rescued me. However, I am trying to set healthy boundaries now. As worried as I am about time and trying to get my applications done before I leave for Thailand, I am giving myself a break today. I simply don't think I could get anything done in this anxious and wonky mood I'm in. D* is coming up this evening, and I am very much looking forward to getting to see him. Hopefully the weekend will reset things and I can start seriously working again on Monday.

Aww, D* just called me on his lunch break, just because. :)  Yay for much-needed smiles.

Anyway, I think I am off to go do mindless productive things today. Cheerio!