Victim

You know, I actually hate that term. I work in domestic and sexual violence. So that probably has something to do with it. I hate the term, because it leaves open the question of whether there is a perpetrator. In domestic and sexual violence there clearly is a perpetrator, but people are often described as victims of domestic/sexual violence, as if somehow the violence was what had injured them. And the idea of being a victim of one's circumstances. Clearly, there is rarely a perpetrator in these situations, but it sounds like there could be.

I have been seen as a victim, and at one point, I saw myself that way. I am a survivor, and to edge into the corny semantics of the English language, I generally consider myself a thriver. I live my life. It is not the same life I would have lived, but it is a life that I embrace.

So you are probably wondering what I'm talking about at this point. Well, two things. Two things that are so entwined in my life that I no longer have the ability to separate them out. The first, and the cause of the second, is that I am a survivor of domestic violence. I hate that even my saying that, I am hiding the existence of my abuser. I hate that I live with the consequences of that, while he has no idea of the damage he caused.

Many people try to tell me to just get over it. This ignores the very real issues of living daily with the results of the worst moments of your life. I have PTSD, or rather, I did, I no longer meet the definition, though I still have some of the symptoms. I hate having to explain what a flashback is, and having people get angry when I can't simply will them away. It doesn't work like that. It isn't just a memory that I can dismiss, it's a reliving of absolute hell. In that way, I'm still a victim. And I'm still fighting for control of my life.

And as for the second, I am a survivor, and still a victim, of using a chair. The pain that necessitates the chair results from the abuse I faced. You can probably see why that would complicate things. I had to deal with abuse, and deal with becoming disabled all at the same time. In many ways, they are still horribly complicated.

I think that's why it's so hard for me to handle it when I face discrimination because of my disability. Because it winds everything up and makes me absolutely miserable. And then it makes me angry. Because I refuse to be put in the position of being victimized again. I refuse to put up with someone trying to control me, even if only by telling me that I can't go into a building, or use a bathroom. It may seem like a tenuous connection, but for me, the link is real, and located well below my brain. It's a gut reaction, that ten years has not eased.

So there's my ramble for the evening.