Healing has come slowly through grace alone I have found peace, rest and freedom from the fear of my weight. Healing from the Healer, who gave me a husband who respected me and treaded me like I had more worth than just my body. My husband loved all of me, and valued all of me. We waited till we were married and sex was beautiful and continues to be.
Meghan, Canada, 29 years old
On October 7th, 2014 I got on a transit bus in Vancouver. I was heading to a singing lesson at school and immediately as I sat down I noticed a gentlemen starring at me. Within the first few minutes I was on the bus, he got up from his seat and came to sit down beside me. His first words were, “I want to know you.” I began to talk to him and try and answer the questions he had for me. I recognized though that this was not a normal situation and so I did my best to not give him too much personal information but he persisted and didn’t stop asking his questions until I gave him answers that satisfied him. I remember wracking my brain, trying to remember all I had learned in my verbal counsellor training about “boundaries” and trying to utilize those tactics to keep myself safe. But at some point, my fear began to grow and I just tried to do whatever I could to keep him calm. He was very confusing to me – some moments he seemed friendly, other moments he was a little more aggressive and sometimes he even seemed confused. Eventually, the physical boundary was crossed and his hands were on me. Nothing happened that was too intimate, he had his hands on my back and his fingers in my hair. He kept trying to hug me. It could have been a lot worse of course… I think I thought it wasn’t a big deal at the time. I got off the bus and went to my singing lesson but I was pretty shaken up, so after my teacher did some music therapy with me she took me to counselling services, then they told me to call a hotline, then the hotline transferred me to the police and then two officers came to see me on campus to take my statement.
For the first few months after the incident, I tried to pretend like nothing happened. I felt really embarrassed about the situation. I felt like it was my fault and whenever I tried to talk about it with someone, their questions often implied I must have done something wrong to have gotten myself into that situation. I don’t think they meant to imply this, but I have realized this is how we deal with these things as a society.
The victim blaming, shame, guilt, fear, paranoia were all repercussions of this experience and they felt just as bad as the incident itself. I’m not sure what the answer is to this issue. It certainly isn’t to point fingers at anyone and play the “blame game”. I think the first step is to realize that you are not entitled to anyone else and they are not entitled to you. Nobody has the right to touch you if permission has not been granted. Omission of permission should still be treated as a ‘no’.
Anonymous, England, 18 years old
I have a problem with repetitiveness, it triggers me. The thought of everyday staying the same makes me want to run, makes me want to find a way to escape. Sometimes the need to get out becomes so overwhelming that I don't care about the consequences of my actions on my grades, my relationships, and my health. Lots of the time I feel as empty and cold as the land around me. My own head is a trap, a labyrinth that I can't find a way out of. No what turn or twist I take, I can't seem to lose my demons. It's exhausting and I'm exhausted. I barely have the energy to try anymore. Everyday, I'm on auto-pilot. I know that I work far too much and I stay out far too late. To me, it's better than going home to a sleepless night alone in my own head. In a sick sense, it's to the point where I have to be so tired that I'll fall asleep instead of waking up with more scars on my body. A lot of people don't understand depression because they've never had it. No one gets how much self-hatred it takes to do such destructive things to yourself. Depression isn't being sad or having a down day, it's an illness that is constantly with you. You can't escape it or the feelings that follow you. This lack of understanding makes it much worse for us. There are teenagers out there who draw lines across there skin with razors, who starve themselves, who sleep all day, who drink, or take drugs to feel something or to stop feeling everything.
The sick part?
Is not that we do these things but we turn around and tell other depressed teenagers that these things aren't the answer. Then, on our way home we cross the street without looking and later, we'll forget to count how many pills we're taking, washing them down with vodka on a stomach that hasn't eaten in days. Then we'll sit on the bathroom floor in the early hours of the morning with tears streaming down our face, staring at the blade wondering if maybe it is the answer. Wondering if it'll quiet the demons that only we can see and hear. Wondering if it'll take all the pain away.
Depression isn't a phase, it isn't teenagers being lazy or seeking attention. Depression is an illness and all we're looking for is a little understanding.
The Face You See Page 20
