My six-month plan: sponsored by rage
[TW: Discussion of SA survivorship (incident is not described)]
"You need to tell people. You can't expect me to keep your secret all to myself."
If you've ever experienced sexual harassment or assault, you also know this to be true: No matter what, the victim always gets the shit end of it.
Objectively, I have everything I've asked for out of this situation. The perpetrator is no longer in my daily life. They've experienced consequences. I'm protected. I'm believed. It's a great contrast to the first time it ever happened to me a long time ago. I got blamed. Well you didn't say no!
Experiencing the duality of victimhood has been eye-opening. In both scenarios, despite the polar opposite outcomes, I've felt completely and utterly empty. You confide in authority about it and talk about it once, but are expected not to talk about it anymore to anyone. It's legally volatile. I get it. But it doesn't make it hurt less. The victim deals with the trauma forever, and everyone else scrambles to cover the incident up. The perpetrator, though punished, is protected by legal privacy. I am, too, but it feels more like a muzzle than a shield.
People cry about how the charismatic perpetrator isn't around anymore, but have no idea what the person did to me. I can't blame them, how would they know? Neither of us are supposed to say anything. So I just look at the person and wish I could telepathically communicate. That person is dangerous and you deserve to know.
I suppose it's better than it used to be. I pretended nothing happened for the longest time. I had to see the perpetrator daily, but at least things seemed normal. I didn't want to be the reason their life was ruined. Sure, mine was affected permanently, but I could take that. I've done it before. Now that people know, it's a weight off of my back, but only a little. I still have to keep it a secret to protect them. Instead of me telling myself that, it's the law telling me that. You don't want to invoke a lawsuit, do you? No. I'm too tired.
Life really does go on, and it's better that way. It's just hard to function when you feel trapped in a cage of legality. It feels like lying, in a way, when someone asks me why the perpetrator isn't in my daily life anymore and I have to robotically chime, "They've moved on. We wish them the best."
There are times in my life when I feel things come to a natural end. When a friendship isn't working out anymore and it's time to bounce. When the buzz and satisfaction of a hyperfocus goes away. When the daily grind starts to feel like dragging your body monotonously to the grave. I've been unconsciously building a six month plan in my head, inspired by the rubble of daily normalcy... And, well, spite.
The plan isn't to escape my life, but to start a new one. I'm not miserable where I am, but I am settling. I want to live in a place I've always dreamed of. I want to create every single day. I want a slow life. I want to go outside and run around in a creek whenever I want. I want to live near my friends and have a peaceful life with my partner and animals. I want to explore the world and go to a country I've never been. I want to do an art residency in somewhere I've never dared step foot because it was out of my league. I want to write comics and publish them. I want to paint and be in art shows I have no business being in. I want to shoot way higher than where I am. I want to feel peace, but also, do something unexpected. I want to feel the urge to cook a wonderful meal for my friends and family. I want to stream and have energy to do so. I want to go to conventions and meet cool people. I want to dance, learn to sing better, and let creativity be my legacy. I want to put these falling ashes together to sculpt beauty. I want to be happy.
I hope this could resonate with someone. Hugs and feathers always, Chicken