in an historical break from tradition, i will not be rambling on here for hours. i have a whole month for rambling. what i will say, however, is that if we survived a shark attack, or survived meningitis, or survived a plane crash, we’d be talking about it. why is it different when we survive abuse? is it because, perhaps, that the stigma is still so great, and the experience so misunderstood by outsiders, that we’ll always run the risk of it looking like ‘our fault’? is it because of how many conversations you’ve either overhead or been a part of, in which someone states that - if it was them - they 'would never put up with that’? is it because women - otherwise rational, compassionate, even feminist - women, will still accuse others of lying because they don’t want to believe their new boyfriend is capable of having done such a thing?
tough shit. i’m a survivor, and i’m talking about it.
see you tomorrow