The moment something bad happens to you, you’ll forever have a
choice: do you tell someone or don’t you? And I don’t just mean do you report
abuse to the Police or do you see a Doctor if you’re in a car accident. I mean,
do you tell your parents what happened? Do you tell the teachers at School? Do
you tell your friends?
My reluctance to report the abuse I went through made the choice a
little easier for me; why would I tell anyone with the threats he made and the
worries of judgement I held? He told me that people wouldn’t believe me, that
they’d think I was making it up for attention or as an excuse for my bad behavior
(which was, in fact, a result of the abuse). I also knew that as soon as people
knew what had happened, they’d have a choice to make; his side or mine. I’d
make the ‘allegations’ and he’d make a denial; so, who would they believe? And
even if they thought it was true – even if they were on my side – what if they
thought I’d deserved it? What if they told the Police before I was ready to
tell them – I wouldn’t have a choice! Telling someone opened so many unanswerable
questions that I wouldn’t know the answers to, unless I took the risk and ‘spilled
the beans.’
When I finally spoke about it, and after I reported it to the
Police (which you can read more about here) I faced the choice a lot more head
on. Now that the ‘right’ people (the Police) knew… I had to judge who should
and shouldn’t know from here on out. There was no longer the additional worry
of ‘but what if they report it to the Police?’ I’d faced that one. Now I had
the rest… My decision to tell particular people was mainly based on judgement; what
would they think of me if they knew? What if their opinion changed our entire
relationship? What if they didn’t believe me? How could I tell someone I’d been
abused if there was a risk that I might not even be believed? So, did I only tell
people who I held some confidence in? Who I trusted to take my side?
In the end, my decision to tell people came with different reasons
depending on the person and the situation we were in. If I was with friends or
family who wondered why I was suicidal or self-harming; should they know which
memories were motivating me to do so? If I was being assessed under the Mental
Health Act by complete strangers; should they know why I was behaving the way I
was? If I was talking to my GP after receiving a letter to have a smear, should
I tell them why I’m not comfortable doing so?
I’m relieved to say that I’ve never told someone about the abuse
and had them not believe me (or at least if they haven’t then they’ve lied to
me!). Even the Police – who expressed their frustration at being unable to
prove it. I guess that’s been one motivation for me to continue telling people.
If I’d been disbelieved by someone then perhaps, I would have become more
reluctant to tell others.
The not-so-funny-thing is that when I’d made the choice of whether
to tell someone or not, I was now faced with a new conundrum; how did I want
them to react. It was all well and good being concerned with the reply but once
I’d told them and was believed, what did I want them to do or say? I’d been so
concerned with not being believed that when I was, I hadn’t thought about what
kind of response I expected from them. Or what I wanted. I mean, did I want for
people to say they were sorry to hear that? Would I rather they say that now they
could understand why I’d developed a mental illness? Or what about if they said
that something like that must’ve been really hard on me?
The thing is, I don’t know what my ideal response would actually be;
I just know which ones I’ve appreciated, which have angered me, and which I’ve
found patronizing.
It’s a bit like the difficult balancing act behind my usual reasoning
for telling people about the abuse. The difficulty comes in ensuring that my
decision to tell this person about one of the darkest times in my life doesn’t
come across as using it to make an excuse for my thoughts, feelings, opinions,
responses and behaviors. In fact, my intention is to help that person to
understand and comprehend that there’s a cause of the things I may be
exhibiting/experiencing e.g. hallucinations, agitation, or self-harm etc. And
this doesn’t just focus on the abuse. When I’d gotten into the pattern of
self-harming every few days; I was often labelled an attention seeker by
professionals such as the Police and A&E staff. Their confusion came from
the fact that I’d self-harm and then get help for it and then often run away
from that help. They thought ‘you can’t have really meant it if you’ve gotten
help.’ I had to learn to explain that my hallucinations would tell me to
self-harm and when I did it, they’d go quiet and I didn’t want to be pain or to
die so I’d get help for it. Then often, when I was seeking help, the
hallucinations would come back, and I’d have to go/leave. Once I’d made sense
of it, I could understand why the staff would have made their own assumptions
and found myself forever trying to tell professionals my new realization before
they had a chance to make their judgements. They’d usually – and in a way, sadly
– become respectful, kind and caring. Sometimes I’d be treated with kid gloves –
as though I might break at any second. Patronizing. Other times, they’d
actually become abrupt and rushed as though hallucinations were contagious and
if they spent to long with me, they’d end up experiencing them too!
I guess my point is, there’s no right or wrong response to someone
sharing something traumatic with you. The important thing is, not to pretend
you know how they feel, and not to feel sorry for them. Instead, don’t imagine
you were them in the pain they’ve felt, imagine the response you’d want if you
told someone about your own pain. Or how you’d want a family member treat…
Do unto others as you would have them do to you.