don't touch me.

as someone with a lot of trauma in my childhood i have spent so long and so much grief wishing i could go back and time and save that little kid, because that kid so desperately needed saving, but i’ve always thought it’s too late, bc it all already happened, and no one saved her, so she’ll never be saved and she’ll never be okay,

and i’ve spent the second half of my life mourning the first half.

but my therapist recently made me realize, that little kid is still inside me. i was her, and in a lot of ways i still am her, because i still carry her pain. it’s not too late. she needed an adult to listen to her, and i am that adult. i’m listening. i can tell her that none of it was her fault, and she can believe me, and i can believe me.

So if you know a survivor, and you tell them that they “can’t” or “shouldn’t” be angry, that will almost certainly be triggering, and it’s really cruel. 

Telling survivors that they need to “get past” their anger or to “be the bigger person” or “holding onto anger is like holding onto a hot coal” or “anger is like drinking poison and expecting someone else to die” or that “healing is only possible with forgiveness” or that “forgiveness will set you free,” or that “being angry means the abuser still has control,” or that experiencing anger makes the survivor as bad as the abuser, or whatever else– that’s culturally imposed abuse apologism and if you want to be an ally, you need to unlearn resorting to those platitudes when trying to comfort survivors. 

daughter: hey this thing you do bothers me very much and i wish you wouldn’t do it

mom: fine. you’re right and i’m wrong and i’m a horrible person. there. are you happy now?

see also