The following relates to me being sexually abused as a child. If you have been harmed now, or in the past, please seek support if you need it, and report if you can - you're worth it.
Hi guys,
Well, it’s been
three weeks. Yes, no more fortnight blogging, just to be fair to myself. Also being
fair to myself, adding a bunch of Trek to my movie collection (I watched Into
Cheapness last night. Derivative as hell, I’ll keep my Wrath of Khaaaaaaaaan!).
Not being fair to myself, skipping recovery meetings. I’ll crawl back Sunday.
Life is a bit
mixed for me. #Bipolar. #MessedUp. #Hurt. There’s pains there I wouldn’t wish
on anybody, and while there are people worse off than me, it’s hurt more than
you can imagine. Somehow, I’ve scraped through it all. #Survival. This week,
some of those pains were resolved.
I’m a child sex
abuse survivor. And last year, I made the decision to apply for the redress
scheme here in Australia. I’d already gone through EMDR therapy for the
flashbacks. I’d latched onto forgiveness for my abuser. But it was a huge step to apply, because I didn’t feel worth it; it took a lot of self-convincing,
and it was a couple of months before I actually did it.
But, at last, I had
the statutory declaration signed, scanned, attached, and pressed the magic
apply button. And in the moment that followed, I decided to go forward to
Police, and make a report. I’d gone one step, why not the next?
A week later, I
spent an awful three hours with the detective. I was scared to go in, my GF at
the time said I looked brave, but I felt like S. H. I. T. After a long crawl
detailing the incidents (yes, plural), I was free to go, and home I went. Harrowed
to say the least, the worst of it was my mother’s “help” (with a comment that
broke my heart). I’ll spare the details, but yeah, not how you help your son
out. And the wait began.
Tuesday, I got a
call on a private number, Human Services; after the identifying bit, the
National Redress Scheme. My application was successful, all I had to do was
select if I wanted a compensation payment, therapy, and a personal apology.
Success, “Thanks,” and, “Goodbye.” And the world went dark.
You’d think
relief at the success. No, I went to deep meh. But knew I had to go through it,
whether I understood it or not. Good old time to pray, “I don’t know what I
need, show me what I need.” Evidently an outreach call, never mind there’s a GF
saying I can speak to them whatever, but I really needed that other voice.
Another day, more dark, and I held on; and that night, the feelings – I’m being
vengeful, I’m not worth it.
That
understanding, the call advice, “Feelings aren’t forever,” and a good night’s
sleep, boosted me Thursday. My resolve was to sign the paperwork and send it
back as soon as I got it, no matter that vengeance/unworth. I got it Friday,
signed, and sent it on its way – compensation and therapy, please, hold the
apology (I think it’d ring hollow).
Then got another
call from a private number, the detectives. They’d charged my abuser, and the
next step is the wait for court. Based on what I know of previous cases, and
what I was told by the detective, justice be done.
I’m not
celebratory. It’s not right, not when others might not get redress (or have
it stretched out unnecessarily), not when others may not even see charges
laid (it’s only one out of my three abusers), not when others are scared
to report (I said in tears when the abuses were found out back in 1994, “Nothing
happened,” and lied to the detective on the phone).
Okay, I’ll stop
pretending it’s about me, because these are the people I’m thinking of. Justice
might be there, but it’s not always done, or sought, and sometimes gets thrown
out, for various reasons. My outcome is a drop in a big ocean I wish wasn’t
there, and I wish I could throw floaty rings in as needed.
It’s my hope
that, in this current world of reporting, of news of reporting, even despite
losses, that those afraid will find strength – and support – to report. Can it
be your hope, too? And something you can speak for?
I’ll leave it
there, and skip the usual good one – it’s heavy, and there are those who won’t
see good come.
Take care,
T.M.
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