Games

DISCLAIMER: This post is relatively harmless, but abuse and survivor's rights are mentioned.

Whenever I go somewhere with a group of people, there is a game that is always played. I privately call this game ' memory lane'. What are the rules? You recollect for the audience a certain memory. Sometimes it's your funniest, or most painful, or something to that nature. Most people reading this will think this is no big deal. After all, if you've had a 'normal' childhood, you can play this game with the best of them. If you have had a normal childhood, you would never notice how often this game is even played.

Sometimes I feel that the people I'm with sense that there's something I'm not 'allowed' to share, so they feel as if they need to bring it up. You know, to ensure I feel left out. I know that isn't necessarily so, but that doesn't change how I feel about it.

There's a strange phenomenon about abuse. Whenever it's spoken about, it's a subject of deepest shame. Sexual abuse especially is one of the few crimes where the victim is more frowned upon than the actual person who did the crime.

I need to talk about this because nobody lets me talk about it.

Imagine, not being able to share a large portion of your life with anybody. Not your parents, your best friend, or your spouse. You can't tell a soul. A person is a sum of many things- one of which is his upbringing. Most of you, if you are lucky, have had a good childhood. I hope you recognize how incredibly lucky you are. Even if you were neglected- when I was alone, I was better off.

If you had a good childhood, you're really not going to understand how lonely not being able to talk is. How strange and deformed you feel. How ugly and worthless. Most people dress up, wanting to look goth or whatever so they can complain about how people look at them. People want to be different from each other.

I've always been jealous of normality. How I've always wanted to play the childhood memory game! After the first person has shared ("My most painful memory was when I was building a tree house and I hit my hand with the hammer") I panic. I can't breathe anymore. I look around the classroom or whatever, thinking that everyone must know, somehow. My first thought is, 'I need to make something up before it's my turn'. I'm terrible with making up good child memories.

So instead, I choose a memory that I see as harmless, or even funny. This is where it's really, painfully obvious that I'm different. The room goes quiet. People stare, and there might be a nervous cough. I'm the only person laughing.

I find it insensitive. I'm sharing my most 'innocent' memories, and they're still not good enough! I have this desire to tell people to suck it up- if I can laugh about it, the least you can do is laugh with me! I hate having to hide who I am all the time. It's tiring and degrading. It reminds me of what a monster I feel like I am.

I want to be who I am- completely and truely- with someone. Preferably more than one someone. Christians go to church, comic fans go to conventions, gay people have villages and a flag and a parade. I want that. I want a place that people like me can go to and feel, for once in our lives, like we're not being judged. I want to be able to share my darkest, most terrible memories. I want to feel normal.

We deserve a flag. If you're reading this, you or someone you know has been through this.

We deserve conventions. 1 in 3 women are sexually abused before we're eighteen, and that's only the people who actually came out about it. Know what that means?

We deserve parades. We make up at least a third of the population, after all. Most of the people who read my blog are my friends, and I can guarantee that I'm not the only one you know who it's happened to.