A perfect victim
My experiences with domestic and sexual violence seem to have merged together. The truth is, I was a perfect victim.
I was compliant. I didn't tell. I didn't scream, I didn't yell. I didn't complain, I didn't do anything, really.
What I did do was find a space in my head. It was quiet, I could hide, I could be safe. That space in my head became the space that damaged me so much.
The space became filled. It seeped out of the cracks, into the rest of my life. In that space, there was the shame.
The shame. The fear that I had caused it. My abuser told me he couldn't help himself. I must have made him do it.
Was it my fault? I don't know. Did I make him do it? I don't know. I tell myself that I didn't, but how do I know?
Finding your site has helped me to realise that I don't carry the shame alone.
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