Trained Victim

I found this piece that I wrote back in 2009. This was before I had a blog or really told anyone that I was abused outside of my close friends and family. I was having a difficult time. Writing has always helped to get my feelings out when I would allow myself. This writing is an example of how I used to view myself. I hated myself and was disgusted with me most of the time despite how others viewed me or saw my life.

Trigger warning: Contents of this may be triggering for survivors or painful for supporters to read. Please take care of yourself and skip this post if you think it will be too difficult for you. You can come back to it later or not read it at all.

Trained Victim: 02/16/09

I was trained to let it happen lest my entire family get hurt. Once my mom was beaten because I did not cooperate. I learned to just let it happen, even if it hurt, even if part of me died a little each time. Even if I bled. It wasn’t about me anyway. It was all about them and if I let it happen then they would be happy and leave me alone for awhile. I would have peace for a time. I never knew how short of a time but there was a little bit of that numbing silence after they fell asleep, went to work or whatever.

This trained response to let it happen was found by others and taken advantage of to my own disadvantage.

I am ashamed of what I do for acceptance, for love, for friendship, and never for myself. I let them all use me. Its like what I am here for. Not to have my own but to always give. To break when they need me to break for their own wants and needs. I don’t matter. My pain doesn’t matter. All that matters is them.

I should remain alone. I have not conquered this awful trait that I have. I am useless if not being used. It is my life. If not for my family I would have killed myself long ago. I have thought about it nearly every day for the last 24 years. My death would just cause more pain. I can handle the pain. I know it well. Sometimes I can push it away to have a good day and smile. To hide behind the face that I put on. But the thoughts are always there no matter what. Taunting me, telling me how worthless I am, what a failure I am, how I should just accept that I am a doormat. A trained victim.

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