One of the hardest parts of being an adult who has been assaulted repeatedly is that I have no voice anymore. I can’t discuss my feelings or my opinions without seeing others listening. My opinion is just one voice in a sea of voices. I can’t say anything about the idea of race or gender or socioeconomic status because it doesn’t seem to matter. I can empathize and put myself in the positions of others because I have the capacity to understand that completely. If I can put myself in the position of a cop after resisting the idea of authority for so long, than I am a true empath. If I can continue to speak about things that I did not personally experience, it is only because I know that by being a white girl I automatically get privilege. Because I have personal connections, I have been able to survive years of my adult life without being afraid of being abandoned.
Corey abandoned me the day he left in May. He didn’t want anything to do with me because he saw me as a victim instead of a survivor. I talked to him once about why it is that I choose to make the decisions that no one will follow. I stepped foot into that police station knowing that my life would be changed forever if I reported a crime and experienced first hand what it’s like to be interviewed by a police officer. It was traumatizing to say the least. It is not the detective’s fault that I felt this traumatized by the fact that I felt harassed for being judged for the way I looked. Each time I see a man choosing to see the physical aspects of me before the emotional or psychological aspects, I walk away without thinking anything of it because I would rather walk away from a person because all they see are the attributes that don’t matter to me.
I have never cared about what I looked like or how much I weigh. I hate the fact that I have to continue to keep track of things that are no one’s business. I don’t like questions about my own personal sanity because it drives me more insane when others choose to diagnose me and put a label on me as a person. I have had people asking me questions about being schizophrenic or that I am prediabetic for not being able to eat because I’m depressed and traumatized.
When others choose to label me as crazy before believing that I am a supergenius, it can drive anyone crazy. I hate when being intelligent and not caring about socializing is seen as something like a psychotic disorder or physical exhaustion. I hate when others label me as stalkers when I am just giving others acts of service and kindness without expecting anything in return. I don’t enjoy having others assume things about my personality when there is nothing to assume except that I just don’t care what you think of me. I don’t care what a man or woman thinks of me, I don’t care if someone labels me as psychotic or anorexic. If others want to label me as something other than what I am, I choose to counter argue the point by choosing the different path. I am an eccentric and I hate everyone because of it. Why is it that somehow others don’t want to be around me because I don’t want to mislabelled. Why do I need a label in the first place? Why does the legal system need proof or confirmation that I am not going crazy. Maybe I just went crazy to prove a point, that honestly I could give zero fucks about what anyone thinks, including the government.