After I wrote my last entry I ended up getting quite a bit of feedback from my friends, and one email in particular stuck out to me.
One of my friends wrote me about how she likes reading my blog because she can relate to a lot of it. In my last entry I talked about my own experience with sexual and physical abuse, and she shared some of her own experiences with me, quickly followed up with, “But I’m not saying my experiences were anywhere near as bad as yours…”
I have come across emails very similar to this enough that it’s become a pattern, and I wanted to share my view on something.
I firmly believe that the worst thing that’s ever happened to me is no worse than the worst thing that’s ever happened to anyone else. We all feel the same emotions, and feel them equally as intensely.
The “worst thing that happened to me” may have been psychologically harder to deal with “the worst thing that happened” to another person, but the emotional scars are the same – it’s just that it’s easier to categorize and put away the death of a grandfather than, in my case, an ex-stepfather forcing horrid sexual things on you, especially in a society like ours where “we don’t talk about THAT.”
It seems like there’s a fight to own the “Victim’s Seat” amongst people who have lived hard-knock lives, and I just leave it to them. If I wrote out my biography and submitted it to the “who’s had the worst life” contest I might get an honorable mention, but then again I grew up in the United States of America with vaccines, trash disposal, and shoes, so I think even with the bad stuff I’ve had it fairly good.
For whatever reason, I’ve been marked to walk a different path than many people. My father died sixteen days after I was born, my ex-stepfather chose to treat me like a girlfriend instead of a daughter, I had my deepest, darkest secrets taken by the police and shown to a courtroom full of people, I lived through five years of poverty, helped my mom pay the mortgage at sixteen while working three jobs and slicing up my arms.
And know what? The “worst” thing that’s ever happened to me is still a breakup with a man who broke every bit of my trust. Just a regular relationship. That’s my “worst,” not any of the other stuff most people assume is a burden I still bear.
We get a few basic emotions. We get fear. We get happiness. We get sadness, and we get joy. We get anger, we get love. And that’s all; that’s what we get.
Don’t be afraid to lay emotions out there; feelings are not a competition. No one has the right to tell anyone that their grief is less profound, that their happiness is foolish, that their fears are unfounded. My fear is no more or less important than my friend’s fear. My anger or sadness does not matter more than yours.
And that’s important to say.
Related posts:
2 Responses to “Because it’s important to say”
I found you through Leslee Horner’s blog and just wanted to say you have an amazing attitude and what seems to be an extremely healthy outlook on life. That is incredibly inspiring.
Thank you! Glad to have you reading, I checked out your blog as well; very nice!