A Letter to All the Abusers Out There

Self-Care Haven by Shahida Arabi

This post differs greatly from the formats of my other posts on abuse recovery. I was inspired to write a letter to the abusers I’ve encountered and all the ones I know out there in the world who are still hurting others.

Writing can be an incredibly powerful tool for healing and empowerment. It serves as a portal for us to create a reverse discourse to the abuse we may have experienced over the course of our lives from various sources. I hope I can speak on behalf of many victims of abuse in this post. I also invite you to also write your own “Dear Abuser” letter in the comments section below. You can share this post or your own on your social media networks using #SurvivorLetter.

Please note that all letters should omit names of the person/people being addressed. The purpose of this exercise is simply to empower…

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Hello. It’s me.

I want to tell you all that I’m busy again with another set of important exams this time (can you believe it’s been four years since I’ve started this blog?), as important as the one I took four years ago, and much harder. I’ve been on an awful long hiatus and neglecting this blog, but once I’ve sorted everything out I’ll try to get this place up and running again. Please be patient with me, to my followers especially, I hope you’ll wait for me. Love you all.

Prima Donna

Okay so I did think of something cheery to post.

  1. My finals are over
  2. I got the lead role in a short film about a month or so back. We’re actually done filming. I juts didn’t have time to post. The role was pretty relatable, the film being about depression and all.

It’s been a long time.

It’s been a long time and I’ve honestly been through a lot of… stuff ever since the last post. I suppose there’s no denying it now. I am not okay. From the very first post to this one, I have never been okay. And if you noticed, yes, that’s three years of non-okay-ness.

So a quick update on my life.

1. I went for a major competition and made it to the finals, but losing a trip to Britain. I am still sad over it, yes, but I have gone further than anyone in my school ever did considering it’s a really big thing and that I led a team into it. And am I happy about that? Well, I do feel great, but…

2. My teacher was a jerk and didn’t publicize our achievement. She posted a picture of us on Facebook at the finals, but let’s face it, who on earth uses Facebook anymore? There was no announcement made to the school like when other people participated in competitions and make it to the finals, but oho, no, not for us, the underdogs who made it further than anyone would have ever dreamed of.

3. So one day I decided that it was my right to announce our victory, being the captain and all. And I made a sign that said we were finalists, and then flashed it in our school club photo right after I was told off and told not to by said teacher. Just to show I could, and there was no more “HEEL!” for me any longer.

4. If that was a hint that I wasn’t okay enough, then I broke down right after that. Four to five years of non-okay-ness, two and a half of pretending to be fine and really happy and ditzy, it all caught up with me, to see myself pushed to the point of being mean and bad all because I could, to see myself turn into this angry, uncontrollable wreck of a person teetering on the brink, I broke down so bad. Details include just collapsing to my knees on the floor, my face in my hands, gripping my skin with all the hate in the world, and finally the tears came, and all these horrible emotions that I had been carrying with me just overflowed that day. I felt like a freak, I felt like a nobody, I felt lost, worthless, and really sh*tty. It was hellish, to think that you had fixed yourself by pretending, but to realize that by doing so you were actually getting worse than ever inside, like some sort of twisted illness that creeps up on you again when you least expect it.

I was never fixed. At all.

My teacher wanted to have a talk with me, and I didn’t want to because I knew that there was no way she could ever help me, and true enough, she only made it worse, she kept avoiding my questions, said things in a way that wasn’t convincing and later concluded that I was just ‘confused about my feelings’.

Couldn’t she take the hints of one who laughed one moment and broke down the next, then later admitted that the laughter was just a front? That she was really this really non-okay person inside? Confused about my feelings? D*mmit lady, I am DEPRESSED. Does anyone dare to say that aloud? DEPRESSED.

I know many people hate that word, some are even afraid, but will you be afraid of one who needs help? Who is ill? Hate someone hurting? Will you?

And I need help. I don’t want to be this way anymore. I want someone to haul me out of this mire, and make sure I don’t fall back in again. I can’t. I just can’t. I don’t even need to be happy. I just want to be okay.

But on the other hand, I’m not too sure. If I’m this way, maybe it’s better, easier. After all, you can’t break what’s already broken.

And I don’t want to break. Ever again.

Societal Rants ((And yes Oh Sweet Oz I’m back))

So I have been thinking… About all those schoolgirl series ((yes the plural of series is, well… series)) Enid Blyton writes… isn’t it fairly deep because isn’t it how society is? All the prejudice, the judgement, the silent bullying – yeah, that’s our world. If I were there, this is what I would do… I may get expelled for it but who cares… I’ve already gotten into detention twice… so moving on… this is what I would do about 1. The racial prejudice, for if Americans and French are frequently portrayed as jerks, what more people of Asian or African descent?: I would paint the walls in various colours and blindfold myself with a multi-coloured scarf, with a sign on my back saying COLOUR IS BEAUTIFUL. Oh, and like, pin every single flag on myself. ((whispers: Hetalia has taught me a lot – that everyone is flawed, yet beautiful, regardless of country. All along I had always acknowledged only either the flawed or beautiful part, but now… I see both and it’s marvellous.)) 2. The bullying of plus-sized girls: I am so wearing a leotard the whole week. Or more until I freeze to death. Nobody should be made to feel ashamed of their bodies. 3. The underestimating of fun-sized people: being around five feet myself, I’m just taping a sign to my back: LIFE’S TOO SHORT, I’M NOT* and write 5″0 on the front of my shirt. I would even paste a measuring tape from my head down if I weren’t such an idiot to keep tripping over things. Heck, Napoleon conquered and ruled more than many tall people ever could, thanks. Okay, so I’ve heard he wasn’t that short but around 5″6, 5″7, I think? Which still isn’t very tall for a guy still?? Or so I think?? But my history teacher kind of told us that Hitler was short, and whilst I have no idea, I trust him ((my teacher not Hitler)) so yeah. Yay. 4. If there were any cases of LGBT there, which there always would be, everywhere, seriously, there would be so, so much hate. I am going to duct tape my lips and carry a rainbow flag. And blindfold myself with the earlier mentioned rainbow scarf. Honestly I neither support or scorn this, I am neutral, but knowing how being an outcast feels, nobody should be despised because of their orientation. Nobody deserves to be despised, for the matter. It doesn’t matter if they’re straight or not – if you’re straight and hate and spurn and bully, then I’m telling you, you have no love as compared to someone who isn’t straight but fights for good causes, stands up for the oppressed, etcetera. 5. Gender stereotypes: Does it really matter what gender we are? Both males and females can accomplish the same things. The only thing that females can’t do that males can is use the gents, and the only thing guys can’t do that females can is use the ladies. Does it really matter what gender we are? Everyone’s human – flawed, limited, but ultimately beautiful. Unless you are a jerk like Enid Blyton. Still, there’s no way one is all good or all bad… I’d probably crossdress if that were the case. And blindfold myself with a lavender, white and green scarf. I mean, really. Stereotypes have ruined lives for forever, and is there a REAL distinguishing factor between males and females in terms of values and flaws? Really people, I don’t get it. I’m totally for this one because reasons but I’m not going to entertain any speculations, though of course, everyone has rights, so you cam speculate if you all like. But nope, not entertaining any of that. And for the last time, yes, I am straight.

Discrimination, stereotypes, prejudice and inequality. I don’t get ANY of it and I don’t see how people do. *Ties blindfold*.

Well, I’ve got spare blindfolds here. Who’d be strong and stand with me? Because everyone can blindfold themselves – metaphorically, if not literally. I actually wouldn’t mind if you do it literally and that’d be really cool but please promise me you wouldn’t crash into something because I understand how easy crashing into things is already WITHOUT literal blindfolds, but to those of us who aren’t talented in that area of not crashing into things, let’s put on our metaphorical blindfolds so that the world can see.

The Rant.

And here it is.

Camp was essentially better than I thought it would be for a while. It wasn’t as run-down as imagined, and I certainly thought that maybe, just maybe it would be fine. I was going to survive. Even without my sketchbook or phone or whatever I need.

And then they started blasting music from several speakers in the hall, and I don’t know if you know this, but honestly, unlike most schoolgirls, I do prefer Andrew Llyod Webber to, I don’t know,say Nicki Minaj. And they would just blast a whole bunch of that stuff nonstop on several speakers.

I’m sorry I can’t.

Sweet Oz can I just give the full report another day because I have other things to post that are on my mind right now.