Survivor Stories: "Thoughts from my Desk, 2"
“The most common way people give up their power is by thinking they don’t have any.” — Alice Walker
THOUGHTS FROM MY DESK
Charlotte
Empowered. Or, powerless? A constant debate. I'm still completely unsure which adjective correctly describes me.
In today's excerpt of "Thoughts from my Desk," I hope to discuss the feeling of being powerless after your experience. It is very commonly felt as people reflection their particular instance. Someone had a firearm, someone did not. A complete power imbalance.
As I mentioned in my "beginnings" story, I had an extremely hard time talking about my experience after it happened. By this, I mean an extremely hard time. I was only fourteen years old when a gun was held to my head and I was told I'd be killed if I didn't stop screaming. Although it's only been a few years since this time, I do feel as though I've matured a lot since then.
When people used to ask me about the instance, I would lash out. Often upset and afraid that people would look at me with pity, I would become angry. "I'm fine!" was a phrase that was heard very frequently by my inner circle. I hated being pitied. I just wanted to remain the same girl that I was before my encounter. Reflecting on my response now, I completely understand why I was so quick to dismiss what had happened to me.
I was terrified to experience that same feeling of being powerless.
When I become a victim of gun violence, my life flipped upside down. I was so lucky to be met with endless support and understanding from my family and friends. However, some people began to only see me for one thing: what happened to me. Consequently, there it was again. Just like last time, someone else was deciding my fate for me. People deciding whether or not they'd view me with pity just reminded me of that man deciding whether or not he would kill me.
Although it's certainly not a picture perfect metaphor, and it may not make much sense to others, this reflection has helped me gain a greater sense of not to deal with my experiences. By pushing my feelings down, I only gave greater power to the people who had harmed me. As badly as I wanted to remain the girl I was before, I had to come to a halting realization: things had changed.
Despite the fact that this experience will always be a part of me (an important one) I've learned that it does not define me. Although this man made me feel powerless, my story is what makes me powerful.
Your power is not what happened to you.
It is what you do with it.
Empowered. Or, powerless? A constant debate. I'm still completely unsure which adjective correctly describes me.
In today's excerpt of "Thoughts from my Desk," I hope to discuss the feeling of being powerless after your experience. It is very commonly felt as people reflection their particular instance. Someone had a firearm, someone did not. A complete power imbalance.
As I mentioned in my "beginnings" story, I had an extremely hard time talking about my experience after it happened. By this, I mean an extremely hard time. I was only fourteen years old when a gun was held to my head and I was told I'd be killed if I didn't stop screaming. Although it's only been a few years since this time, I do feel as though I've matured a lot since then.
When people used to ask me about the instance, I would lash out. Often upset and afraid that people would look at me with pity, I would become angry. "I'm fine!" was a phrase that was heard very frequently by my inner circle. I hated being pitied. I just wanted to remain the same girl that I was before my encounter. Reflecting on my response now, I completely understand why I was so quick to dismiss what had happened to me.
I was terrified to experience that same feeling of being powerless.
When I become a victim of gun violence, my life flipped upside down. I was so lucky to be met with endless support and understanding from my family and friends. However, some people began to only see me for one thing: what happened to me. Consequently, there it was again. Just like last time, someone else was deciding my fate for me. People deciding whether or not they'd view me with pity just reminded me of that man deciding whether or not he would kill me.
Although it's certainly not a picture perfect metaphor, and it may not make much sense to others, this reflection has helped me gain a greater sense of not to deal with my experiences. By pushing my feelings down, I only gave greater power to the people who had harmed me. As badly as I wanted to remain the girl I was before, I had to come to a halting realization: things had changed.
Despite the fact that this experience will always be a part of me (an important one) I've learned that it does not define me. Although this man made me feel powerless, my story is what makes me powerful.
Your power is not what happened to you.
It is what you do with it.