#latergram strawberry rhubarb birthday pie #dirtythirty #workgrind #happylatebirthdaytome (at Concetta)

TRIGGER WARNING: My therapist taught me something really important tonight about being a rape victim.

For months she and I have been talking about how we’re not gonna talk about The Thing and instead just talk about how I don’t want to talk about The Thing and how talking about The Thing might help me start to heal from The Thing and actually get some sleep. 

 Anyway, tonight, I was finally able to describe to her what happened to me on that night last October. It’s not the only time I’ve been hurt sexually but it’s the most recent and the most vivid and the one that I can still feel and hear and taste and see. 

 After I finished telling her she goes: “I’m sorry that happened to you.” And then she paused, shook her head, looked me in the eye and goes: “No. Fuck that. I’m sorry he did that to you.“ 

 And that’s how I realized that we always do this to rape victims. When we do recognize what happened to them - if we recognize what happened to them - we treat their pain and their trauma and the attack(s) they’ve endured like these things are separate from other people. Like the only one involved was the victim. Like there is no other party at play, no other party at fault. We say: I’m sorry that happened to you and I’m sorry you went through that and I’m sorry you experienced that like these things happen in a vacuum or an abyss or a fucking hole. 

But you know what? Fuck that. Rape doesn’t happen in a vacuum. Rape involves an attacker. Rape involves another person. Rape involves someone who is violating and hurting and wronging the victim. 

This didn’t happen to me. It didn’t happen in an abyss. It didn’t happen by itself or on its own. He did this to me. He made a choice and he did this to me. 

 And it wasn’t my fault.   It. Wasn’t. My. Fault.

TRIGGER WARNING: My therapist taught me something really important tonight about being a rape victim.

For months she and I have been talking about how we’re not gonna talk about The Thing and instead just talk about how I don’t want to talk about The Thing and how talking about The Thing might help me start to heal from The Thing and actually get some sleep. 

 Anyway, tonight, I was finally able to describe to her what happened to me on that night last October. It’s not the only time I’ve been hurt sexually but it’s the most recent and the most vivid and the one that I can still feel and hear and taste and see. 

 After I finished telling her she goes: “I’m sorry that happened to you.” And then she paused, shook her head, looked me in the eye and goes: “No. Fuck that. I’m sorry he did that to you.“ 

 And that’s how I realized that we always do this to rape victims. When we do recognize what happened to them - if we recognize what happened to them - we treat their pain and their trauma and the attack(s) they’ve endured like these things are separate from other people. Like the only one involved was the victim. Like there is no other party at play, no other party at fault. We say: I’m sorry that happened to you and I’m sorry you went through that and I’m sorry you experienced that like these things happen in a vacuum or an abyss or a fucking hole. 

But you know what? Fuck that. Rape doesn’t happen in a vacuum. Rape involves an attacker. Rape involves another person. Rape involves someone who is violating and hurting and wronging the victim. 

This didn’t happen to me. It didn’t happen in an abyss. It didn’t happen by itself or on its own. He did this to me. He made a choice and he did this to me. 

 And it wasn’t my fault.   It. Wasn’t. My. Fault.

let's take it back to the concrete streets. . .

stay calm

(Transparent)

thoughtful cat

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I am extraordinary, if you'd ever get to know me I am extraordinary, I am just your ordinary Average every day sane psycho, Supergoddess Average every day sane psycho -Liz Phair

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