Monday, January 28, 2019

"At least it's not worse"

"Oh but you're safe here", "it's not like anything could actually happen to you", "at least most people are supportive"; being told others know my reality more than I do is just yet another day-to-day thing. Being told that things that have happened to me, do happen to, that I need to prepare to happen to me every time I go and do anything because of how unsafe the world is, could never happen, is just more of the my story - someone who cannot know what is or is not safe, because Things Are Worse For Others.

"It's not like it's dangerous here, in this place", this place where I've been repeatedly threatened for being disabled, for being queer, for existing. This place where you are telling me of course there's no danger, but where I've had people do whatever they can to purposefully trigger my disabilities, threaten me physically and emotionally, refuse my accommodations and scream in my face that I cannot be, make me fear if I'm alone. It's not dangerous, because you don't see the dangers. It's not dangerous because you want here to be safe. It's not dangerous because I've found a way through.

"Everyone here is supportive", in a room with people who have abused me. Memories washing over me every time it's said. Needing to run, but unable to, because that would be even less safe, with people knowing how other I am, how I am the one who was hurt, I am the one who isn't safe there. But everyone is supportive. I just need to pretend. Because you want your safety, your friendship, your reality without the pain of life.

I just make it up. I'm not really in danger. I've not really been hurt. I don't really have any reason to be afraid. None of the people you care about have done anything to me. Because my experiences shouldn't exist. Your reality of everything is great. Everything is friendly, and awesome here is more important than what has happened and is happening to people like me.

"At least it's not worse." But my experiences aren't real to you. And I know that. I always know that. And the gaslighting continues whenever I interact. And you, you're everyone. Because I'm someone who just is yet another person who doesn't really exist in your reality. I am not important enough. I just exaggerate, I just fake. I just...

I should should be happy to be alive.

Because it's not like I matter to you anyways.

Oh but I'm safe here, in this place, where my experiences aren't believed, where my reality isn't believed, where I'm told I'm not real. I'm safe, because I'm told I am. I'm safe, because you want me to be. I'm safe, because there's no alternative.

Except the reality of knowing who I am.

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