I'm not ready to write again yet, but want to keep telling my story. This is another portion of a story I started a while back, a fictional version of my story (Waiting to be Heard). I'm afraid it jumps ahead to something I haven't written about yet. But while telling my story it's tough not to jump around a bit. I hope it will make sense when I finally get it all out.
Can you believe that? She feels accountable. How is that possible? Someone else violated her like that and she feels accountable. It seems crazy. But it’s not. It happens over and over again.
You see, she had free will. She had the ability to act. She had the ability to not participate. Or did she?
This is something that is difficult for people to understand. If they have never lived with abuse and been controlled, they don’t get this. Do you get it?
There are people like her all around you, you know? You walk by them. You even talk to them. And you think they talk to you. Guess what. They aren’t really talking to you.
They are filling the air with words as a distraction. They use those words to keep you from finding out that anything is wrong. But they aren’t really talking to you.
How can I say this? Because I do this. Talking means something. What they offer you is just chatter. Those are not the same things.
Do you know why they won’t talk to you? I do. They do not trust you. You are not safe.
And besides, you don’t really want to know. You only want to know until you find out. You want the satisfaction of having won the challenge to get them to talk but you don’t want the responsibility that comes from knowing what they have to say.
How do I know? Because I have done this, too. I have sensed that someone had a story to tell and tried so hard to get them to tell me. Once they’d trusted me and opened their soul to me, my hunger was satiated. I’d gotten what I needed. And I left.
I’m ashamed of that. Are you? Since we are all connected I believe you’ve done this, too.