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Megerőszakolták, azóta rendszeresen meztelen képeket oszt meg magáról

  • Szerző:nuus
  • 2018.01.23 | 11:45

Suzie Larsont először gyerekkorában molesztálta egy perverz nagybácsi, majd később újra nemi erőszak áldozata lett. A traumát sajátos módon dolgozza fel a fiatal lány.

Suzie kezdetben senkinek nem beszélt az erőszakról, a történtek után azonban olyannyira gyűlölni kezdte önmagát – saját védtelen, meggyalázott testét és bemocskolt lelkét – , hogy 15 évesen már súlyos étkezési zavarokkal küzdött. Vágyott a halálra, nem látta értelmét élni.

Sokat segített a poszttraumás-stressz legyőzésében férje, Samuel, akivel 2014-ben kötötték össze életüket. Suzie az ő szemén keresztül újra kezdte elfogadni önmagát, míg végül úgy döntött: megmutatja a világnak, hogy esendőségében is szép, értékes, egyedi és megismételhetetlen. Ezért azután rendszeresen posztol ruha nélküli képeket.

Ezek a fotók nem az erotikáról, hanem az önbecsülésről szólnak. Mindez rengeteget jelent számomra

– vallotta be.

No one should ever make you feel bad about your body. In an ideal world, your body would not be mocked, ridiculed, objectified, or harmed in any manner. We do not live in an ideal world. My body has been taken from me and used without my consent since I was a preteen. Sometimes in small ways, like pointed comments meant to hurt me. Sometimes in big ways, like being forced to endure sexual intercourse. I have been raped orally, vaginally, and anally. I am no stranger to the ugliness that lies beneath harmful intentions. I have lived that life. Where I hated my skin. Where I wanted to flay myself daily. Where I’d rather mutilate my own genitals than continue being raped. I asked myself those questions seriously. If sewing up the vagina is possible. I cannot imagine the pain some of those procedures would have had, and I was willing to try them. Because I was angry and I was afraid. My body and I have not been friends for very long. I’ve only recently begun seeing us as part of a whole. Part of the same side. Because I hid from my body for years. Disgusted by it. Now I know I wasn’t disgusted by my body, I was disturbed by the painful abusive acts it(I) was being put through. I was hurting and I blamed my body, thinking only that if I no longer had my body it would stop. But that would mean death … Eventually, once I’d been free long enough. I started to see that there was another way. I could reconcile my relationship with my body, heal the wounds, piece together the brokenness. No, not all at once. But slowly, I am learning not to fear my skin, to love it, to nurture it. And to NEVER BE ASHAMED OF IT. Because our bodies are not shameful. They are beautiful. A woman should be able to appreciate her own body in her own personal space without being attacked. Consent is everything! Which is why rape culture has to be dismantled and the generation after us has to be taught the importance of consent, safe sex, healthy intimacy, and ongoing sexual education. I believe there is hope in healing. My healing comes from accepting all parts of myself. To be able to put my hands on my body lovingly and think to myself “You are safe. You are strong. You are loved.”?

Suzie (@suziethesurvivor) által megosztott bejegyzés,

I’ve always said others are strong, it is easier to see strength when it is outside of myself. I build people up because I know what it means to be broken down. Stripped of your might. Pushed further down into the water, when you already couldn’t breathe. Choking on tears instead of inhaling oxygen. I believe people because I understand the need to be validated. The yearning to have someone look into your soul and agree yes, you are worthy of living, and your story is worth hearing. It can be the thing that crushes you. Trusting someone with the most vulnerable parts of you just to have them crush your very life into powder, or crunch it flat, the equivalent of a recycled can. What happens when you whisper the darkest words you could possibly utter. When you breathe out, the pain you’ve been caused, the abuse you’ve suffered, and the other person refuses to listen, or worse, tells you that your truth is wrong. I thought I might stop breathing but I didn’t. I would be invalidated many, many times. I would doubt my sanity. I would contemplate suicide. And I would … never tell another person, survivor, that they didn’t know their own story. I speak because it heals. But I reach out to others because I know just how cruel this world can be. I see things in others more easily than in myself but I’m realizing that I have my own magic. I have empathy that runs deeper than most people’s bloodstreams. I live in my vulnerability, and it has taken a lot of courage to overcome the fear stemming from that. I am intuitive, creative, and I have learned to adapt well to most situations. My abuse tore at my self-esteem and made me feel hopeless. It did this by feeding me negative messages everyday for years that I then began to repeat on my own. It has taken a long time to pull those messages apart, recognize them as false, and replace them with positive ones. Changing the results of emotional abuse doesn’t happen overnight. But it can happen. If you are patient. If you realize that those messages were planted by people who sought to control you. Professional help can speed the process up. No matter what though, healing your mind, just like healing the body, takes time. ?

Suzie (@suziethesurvivor) által megosztott bejegyzés,

I’ve stripped my own flesh away, revealing a bloody wound, just so I could watch myself bleed. It used to be a habit of mine. To inflict pain on my body. To expose my nerve endings over and over again. Sometimes I’d do it daily. Sometimes multiple times a day. Sometimes multiple times in the same hour. I’ve been addicted to self-harming. To being in control over my own pain. It was a warped way of coping with abuse. They could hurt me. I was being hurt outside of my control. But with my own self-harm, I became the abuser, and there was a certain power in it. A power I was *never* granted. So I gave that small token to myself. It felt good. It helped. I leaned into it. However, that abuse ended, and my little habit stayed. Deeply rooted at this point and firmly behind closed doors. Once I began recovery from my ED, and I began therapy, I found out the name for making yourself bleed: self-harm. It was a faulty coping mechanism. Something that would prevent rather than present happiness. So I’ve slowly walked the road of recovery. Getting clean from an addiction, even if it just cutting, is hard. I failed many, many times. Relapsing. Giving up. Getting angry. Now I still struggle in moments of vulnerability, or when I feel my control of a situation slipping. I have the urge to bleed. But I know there are better ways for me to handle my anxiety. I know I deserve better than to harm my body. I remind myself I’m not where I used to be. That I can dig into support if I need it. That I can ask for help if I’m feeling unsteady. The openness with which I strive to live is the opposite of my cutting days. I’m not ashamed of the me who did those things because I know she did her best. I just know I don’t have to be that girl anymore. If you are in recovery from any kind of addiction, please reach out to those who are supportive and whom you can trust, during the beginning of this new year, especially if you are feeling particularly vulnerable. If you have a history of alcoholism, try sparkling cider or grape juice at midnight as a safe alternative (it is what I do.) Remember you don’t have to have wild plans just because it is New Year’s Eve. Just focus on YOU.??

Suzie (@suziethesurvivor) által megosztott bejegyzés,

I am tender with my body because it allows me to ground myself in the present. It forces me to recognize that I am my own being, not someone else’s. During the past few days, over the Christmas holiday, I found out about something very triggering to me. Someone who had sexually assaulted me had been caught sexually assaulting someone else. Both were people I knew, and it tore my heart out to think of her being alone and defenseless, with nowhere to go. Trapped out there with him. They were on an isolated trip together, like so many of my assaults occurred, and I just shivered, and felt completely claustrophobic, like I couldn’t breathe. She did what I couldn’t. She went to someone. Right away and the authorities were contacted. I was just awash with horror, having to face down my own years of memories. Ugly and black. I couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t be in the same room with him. Not again. Not this time. It was too soon. I was utterly disgusted as I convulsed at the thought of all the young girls he’d done this to. He’s a sex offender now. He’s so close to prison and I don’t know how to feel. I don’t know how to have compassion or empathy or forgiveness towards someone who preys on children, who preys on their own family. I only hope it doesn’t traumatize her. That she is constantly supported and reminded of how strong and worthy she is. As for me, I’m trying my best. I’ve been a ball of nerves. As I recently came out to his parents about his sexual deviancy and my own abuse. He destroyed my ability to care for myself and my own body. He caused me to think I was tainted and that I was spiritually sinful and shameful. He was the root of my depression from a young age, prior to my sexual assault in the workplace. Now I can only tell myself what I know of her. We were victims. We didn’t ask for what was put on us. We are not dirty and I am not incapable of divinity. We were and are vibrant young women who belong to ourselves, who create magic with our fingertips, and have the potential to live fully, wholly, and love without reserve. We deserve respect. We always have. We deserve better than sexual violence and toxic masculinity. I will always advocate for that.

Suzie (@suziethesurvivor) által megosztott bejegyzés,

Amidst all the eating of the holiday season. All the parties. All the loved ones saying you look “healthier,” “have you gained weight?” and so on and so forth. I will shake my head when the negative thoughts come pouring into my brain, and the obsessive-compulsive need to restrict rises. I will embrace my jiggle, my curves, my cellulite, my body hair, and all of the bumps and bends in my body. I will not turn on myself. Because sometimes yourself is all you’ve got. And this body? She has fought HARD to get where she is. I didn’t get through all of the utter hell that is re-feeding and recovery from all of the mental terrors that my ED wrought on me, just to have it stripped away by a few weeks of fancy food and old people telling me I look fatter! Hell yes, I’m fatter. I’m fatter, because I was previously too thin. I was previously sick. I was previously anorectic. I’m proud of where I am. I’m proud of the steps I’ve taken. The journey I’ve made. And I am NOT going backwards despite what all these holiday dieting advertisements would have me to believe is “true.” I. Am. Beautiful. And. More. Importantly. Whole. Just. The. Way. I. Am. At this point in my recovery. With this knowledge. I am present, I am grateful, and I am obstinate as a mule, so if you plan on dismantling my recovery, you better watch yourself. I don’t just bark. I bite. #anotetodietculture #fuckdietculture #recovery #edrecovery #anarecovery #edfam #theholidays #theholidaysarestressful #dietculturedropout #recoveryispossible #recoverywarrior #recoveryisworthit #realrecovery #bodyimageissues #bodydysmorphia #lovemybody #selflove #yourbodyisbeautiful #trustyourgut #believeinyourself

Suzie (@suziethesurvivor) által megosztott bejegyzés,


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