On Being Vulnerable: The Ugly Truth

I wrote my fairy tale with the intention of focusing on the wolf. And what he did to me. I minimized my experience by calling him a wolf, and calling myself a little girl who cried.I should have called him a man. A man who forged ahead even if I said no. A man who forged ahead even if I said please, or stop. A man who ignored my silent fear, and desperation. A man who thankgod is no longer in my life since that fateful night.

I minimized my experience because my blog is far too public to be blunt about some stuff. I minimized my experience because no matter how hard I try, I still feel shame. No matter how hard I try, I still feel entirely responsible for what happened. I blame myself. I’m ashamed of what happened, and yet, yes I really do blame myself.

Out of shame I waited two days before contacting the police. Out of shame I did not go see them in person. Out of shame I called. From a pay-phone. After telling the purpose of my call, they handed the phone to a male police officer.

He made it very clear, after I explained my story, that it was my fault.

I blame myself.

I didn’t want to put it out there. I didn’t want to bear the victim label. I refuse to wear that label. I choose happiness. I choose it out of a sense of responsibility for myself. And for my mother. She did not make me to waste my life away.

I still blame myself.

But I honor my mother by loving myself, and being happy. It’s mother’s day this weekend. How do you honor the woman who made you?