a lot happened last week. i’m still in the middle of processing it. i wrote a post on wednesday about this sheepdog and his owner. and yes, it did make me feel better.
shall i do this?
last week i was sure that by the end of the week i would have committed suicide. i had a half-baked plan in my head about visiting my old building and jumping off the second floor. what i was wondering about when i saw the doctors on Wednesday morning was whether i would leave a suicide note or not and whether jumping from two floors down would be enough to kill me.
the doctor told me to go to the a&e. the psychiatrists at the a&e thought it would be best for me to be hospitalised. i said ok. i spent only one night there before another doctor saw me and had me discharged. i’m currently having a nurse come in every day to check up on me because although the intense feeling of suicide has left me i don’t know if it’s gone forever and i’m scared it might come back.
yesterday it was my brother’s birthday. a social worker came and she was lovely. she said we were a beautiful family. she told me that i’m wanted and that my parents love me and that my friends love me and that what happened to me was horrible but in no way was i to blame and she said don’t you dare blame yourself.
i am a survivor of child sexual abuse. i was seven years old and for years i was scared and felt like i was so fucked up.
i want to be brutally honest here. i’m reading shoot the damn dog by sally brampton, and it’s a memoir of depression, and she said “lacerating honesty” and that’s what i want. but it is a risk. last sunday my parents were worried about me and who i was hanging out with me. they lashed out in panic and it domino-effected me all the way to wednesday, the night at the hospital, thursday, and today.
the social worker said that when im ready i should use my voice to unite young people together against sexual abuse. the therapist i saw on monday also said something similar. we talked about how women in my community (British Bengali) have it so tough, tougher than most. how as women and girls we are taught to keep our lips sealed and the secrets all shut up because it affects the honour of the men (and families) who look after us.
we are not our own people.
and there is no good timing for this. she also said that if i want to take more time off uni than i would be able to. she’s going to send an email to my personal advisor so that i don’t get deregistered from my course.
but i have already missed two assignments.
and the therapist on monday said “don’t let him win”. and that’s the new thing going around my head now. i won’t let him win. i’m taking back ownership of my body and my mind and my soul. i’m not letting myself go and i’m not giving up anymore.
i’m back. and this time i’m ready to stay because i won’t let him win.
i am a victim of misogyny. what happened to me was horrible and it has repercussions to this day. i’m still figuring out how to live with this. but one thing for sure, i am sick and tired of keeping my lips sealed shut for someone else’s honour. lest my future husband’s family figure out that i stayed a night at a mental hospital ward, lest my future husband’s family find out that i’m not a pure girl. in my culture the blame lies on the girl too, too much. i am soiled and dirty and damaged, according to them.
and i know this is a risk that i’m taking. i couldn’t take it when my dad, out of love and panic, said “oh what, one wasn’t enough for you, was it?”. he was scared out of his mind that he wouldn’t be able to prevent something like that happen to me again. and my therapist is right, he needs to learn to trust me more. and my parents say they trust me they just don’t trust this world. and my parents say that i’m their baby and how on earth are they ever going to cope with knowing that this happened to me when i was under their care and that i am now depressed and sometimes intensely suicidal.
this is a tragedy.
but we won’t let him win.
my dad told the social worker that the only thing that eased his worries a little bit was knowing that i was getting treated. suga, from bts, published a mixtape ages back in which he talks about his anxiety and depression. in his song, the last, he also reassures his loved ones: i am getting better. i’d like to do the same. i am getting treated for my depression through medication and through seeing a nurse every day. i have written a list of things i can do to make myself feel better and a list of places/people i can turn to when it gets too much. after i am discharged from the nurses i will also consider other organisations to go to for talking treatment and for the csa i am on referral to psychology.
if you are a loved one reading this, if you are concerned beyond belief, let this at least reassure you. i love myself too. and i have many friends in this world who are going through or have gone through or who know someone who has gone through what i have gone through.
you are not alone.
i can’t be your therapist. i can’t even take care of myself. but i can inform you about what it was like for me to seek help and who i went to and what i did and how i felt and how i feel now. i can love you, too.
i have a lot of love to give.
i want to become a book editor. i’m not sure what all the steps are, but i know that i need to rack up a lot of experience in the publishing world and smash my degree. i want to raise awareness about what it’s like being a british bengali women and having to balance all the tough culture clashes.
suffice to say all this “lacerating honesty” in this (public) blog post is smashing the balance to pieces.
i wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.