Survivors.
We smell the smoke. It seeps into our clothing and surrounds us like a heavy
fog. Ashes rain down like snowfall, cover us in dust, catch in our eyelashes,
and clump under our fingernails. The flames have long since flickered out. Even
so, the houses of our lives have burned to the ground in the aftermath of the
trauma we have endured. Somehow, we made it through.
We know what it feels like
to sit down in the charred remains, to dig among the rubble, searching for
meaning, something to hold onto or bring us back to the present. We try our
best. Some days, we are lost. Flooded by
memories that feel so real they could be mistaken for right now. Our reality is
skewed. Other days, we manage to feel things as we turn them over and over in
blackened hands, tracing their edges as if they could construct words and speak
to us. These objects are our Braille, and we are blinded and reeling in the
aftereffects of all that has happened.
We
probably look strange from the outside. The reality we walk through each day is
heavy with silence, guilt, and shame. These things press down hard upon us,
like the words we’ve taken in and have running endlessly on repeat just loud
enough to hear, but not loud enough to consciously register them anymore. From
the outside, you can’t see the devastation, the loss, or what it continues to
cost us to survive.
From your vantage point, we look rather like a lost puppy,
or a homeless person begging coins and food on the street corner. The urge to
turn your head and ignore us is strong. This only adds to the cacophony of
silence. For the trauma to have happened, it required silence and tolerance.
Looking the other way. None of that helps us. Instead, it further validates our
abusers and their actions toward us. If you haven’t yet, this is where you’ll
turn away.
We
keep going.
We
walk on hot coals, smoldering beneath our feet, ready to reignite at any moment
a spark falls upon our steps. One memory stacks upon another, increasing the
heat of the flames that relentlessly burn. Fire ebbs and flows. It comes and
goes. At times, it can build until it seems an entire forest is aflame. At
other times, the coalbed, while hot, is banked to the back corner of the
fireplace, barely keeping the chill off. Yet, still we rub our hands
expectantly for warmth.
We are in the aftershock and there aren’t enough
blankets to weigh us down and keep the shivers away. Absentmindedly, our
soot-covered hands work through the ash heap looking for something else that
made it through the flames, perhaps with scorch marks, but intact enough to
recognize. It might as well be a mirror. That’s exactly what a survivor is,
too.
Do you know a survivor? Chances are, you do. One in four women and one in six men, before they turn eighteen, have survived child sexual abuse. The statistics for rape, of both men and women, as well as those from the trans and gender fluid communities, are even worse. All of us are survivors. All of us have endured trauma. We went through the fires. We were likely burned. Many of us are still reeling from the aftereffects. Without support, we might choose a path that includes self-medicating (such as alcohol, drugs, and other substance abuses, addictions such as porn, and self-harm) behaviors.
There is hope. There is a way through the fire. There is life on the other side. Mindfulness may help you get there. Resiliency, too. Recovery is possible. Change is possible.
Most importantly of all: YOU ARE NOT ALONE. Many, many others travel with you.
Check out these pinterest boards for survivor resources:
