Sarah Nyhan

Are you familiar with the term “ableism”? 

I have only heard it used in terms of physical disabilities. But lately I’ve been realizing it can also apply to societal expectations of how people are perceived socially.

The reason ableism pisses me off so much is because in regards to trauma, it’s not about actually solving problems for those who have been hurt. Instead is the mega-offensive double hurt of basically shutting someone down who is in pain just so you don’t have to deal with the uncomfortable feelings and work their trauma makes for you.

I feel so angry when people spend more effort trying to shut down the people who have been hurt versus the people who do the hurting. That is so immensely infuriating! 

I cannot even describe the level of betrayal inherent in that behavior – impact regardless of intention. To work overtime to shut down abused people who are trying to work through and survive their pain!? Instead of working overtime to shut down the abusers who caused that pain!? Or at least work overtime to give abused people real healing and support!

We all have had to go through things. I imagine at least the majority of people. So it’s so confusing and also infuriating when the people trying to shut you down for speaking on what’s happened to you are also people who are not strangers to pain. You’re like: “Bro!?! What the fuck? You know what I’m going through! At least somewhat. So why are you trying so hard to shut me down?!”

I think it comes from fear. They know many in society look down on weakness. And at the end of the day their core internal belief, despite their words and certifications and degrees, is that they think you expressing what has happened to you is weakness. So then they must think asking for help to navigate horrible things that have happened to you is a sign of weakness.

I don’t. I think being able to talk about things is immense strength. I think getting help to not let trauma win is a sign of strength. I don’t have a problem talking about that. At all.

But even some of the people in the “mental health” world, even some counselors look down on the people they purport to be helping. Just because they want to talk about what happened to them. Now THAT is fucking crazy! When I thought that was literally your whole job.

Or are you just there to be the behavior police? To get people back in line? Back on the trains? So there isn’t any scene. Anyone actually fighting to change the status quo. Even when it comes to things like child rape. And parents not actually wanting to take care of the children they brought into this world.

Turns out even some mental health folks would rather you shut up so everyone can go back to being unchallenged. Go back to the little comforts that they’ve found to make life not so real. Even as unhealed wounds fester all around them. 

Who am I to judge? 

Except when I feel repeatedly violated by the those that sell themselves as knowing better.

I’m so glad I never risked my story to basically everyone when I was younger. I already wanted to die back then. The responses I’ve received as an adult would have definitely put me over the edge if I had to endure them as a child.

My body knew better than I could comprehend even back then. Give yourself credit: you weren’t crazy – you always knew deep within who was safe and who wasn’t. 

And since y’all love spectrums so much, some people are safe to an extent. Until they’re not.

And I’ve found the line is usually when you being real contradicts with them having to pick whether to risk being accepted socially. They’re more scared of rejection by others than doing the right thing.

They talk a good game when it comes to God, but they don’t act like Jesus is real. They sacrifice children ever day all day just so they don’t have to step up and actually do the hard work.

They ride that forgiveness of God DEEP. As deep as it goes. Fuck all their relationships. Fuck consequences.

That’s why they have to keep putting and pushing people like me away. So they can stay in their circle jerks. Everyone propping up each other’s egos. In the midst of absolute insanity. 

You gotta be able to question yourself. In order to grow. In order to get better. 

I guess I never had the luxury of thinking I was okay. There was no self-love instilled in me. I’ve had to work for every ounce of that. Every crumb.

But the blessing being I don’t feel threatened by considering I could be wrong. I’m 100% okay with being corrected. I value the truth more than I care about people thinking I made a mistake. I’m human, bro – I’m going to not always get it right. Why is that such a scary thing for most people to admit?

You gotta understand that your worth doesn’t come from the acceptance of others. You will never be at peace if your happiness depends on the approval of others. 

I never had that. So it doesn’t kill me to stand on my own.

Does it suck when nobody wants to ride for you as hard as you feel like you ride for others? One-hundred-thousand percent. But it’s not like that’s a new feeling for me. I’m used to being alone.

I’d rather respect myself. I’d rather be able to face myself in the mirror. Sleep well at night without having to medicate myself just to avoid my conscience. Some people day and night. Can’t face themselves.

Take all the pills you want. Shut down all the hurting kids you want. Push everyone away who just by existing, just by living their own lives, brings to light what you fight so hard to constantly avoid. 

But you’re the one missing out most. Not me. 

I’ll be fine. I always am. Because that’s one thing I know, believe, and like about me: I’ll do the work to get to the other side.

Maybe not in a way that makes you be able to pretend like everything is okay. But I know it’s worth it to face the hard stuff. To get my hands dirty in cleaning up whatever messy part of being a human decided to show up in my life. 

It is what it is, bro. You can sit around pretending shit isn’t. Or you can get to it.

This ableism b.s. can kiss my ass. This “power through and please play nice” shit that they peddle as healing is absolutely false.

You want me to look like nothing ever happened to me. For your comfort. Bitch, shit did. Shit did happen to me. And I’m tired of even those in the helping professions making it seem like the goal is to mask so well that nobody can tell. For THEM. Not for the relief of my pain at all.

Every damn day I have to deal all day with the impacts of what people did to me. Especially when I was younger. That doesn’t make me less than. That’s just reality.

And you look down on me because of that!? Because of things other people did to me. That I had no control or choice over at the time!?

I will never be like you. I will never be “normal”.

To define strength only as someone who can act like nothing bad ever happened to them, like they don’t still every day have to deal with shit, is fucking ridiculous. THAT’S crazy. That’s insane. 

NOT me talking about it. Not me admitting what is true.

Not what happened to me making you so uncomfortable that you’d rather shut me down. Than deal correctly with the people who hurt me.

Tired of these pussy pansy ass people. Tired of society making the victims do the work of restoring comfort to everyone. Instead of holding the abusers accountable. Absolute bullshit. Double the trauma. 

And then they have the audacity to wonder why we’re in the state we’re in. As people who cause pain run amuck with zero consequences. Day after day. 

I’m only one person. It’s my job to take care of myself and anyone I bring into this world. I’m not doing your emotional labor anymore.

Deal with it or not. I’m not going to lose sleep anymore over losing the approval, no – the barely being tolerated by those who refuse to step up. 

Hopefully eventually I’ll experience this more than a party of one. But it’s important enough to me, to what happened to me, either way. I’ll die on this hill: if they only want me if I shut up then they can keep all that mess entirely to themselves. 

Don’t just agree with me because I say the things you feel. Actually do differently. Be the change. Instead of perpetuating the pain.