This year has been a year of firsts for me. New experiences and challenges, new realisations. The most striking one just now is that it can be safe to be seen.
I have spent most of my life staying in the shadows and carefully monitoring my voice, checking that no one saw me and being cautious with my words. Living within a world of abuse and exploitation whilst juggling normality taught me, and others, how to stay invisible in order to stay safe.
It’s an expensive and dangerous trade off. It’s only now that I have the freedom and foundations to be seen that I realise what I lost.
Showing up, showing face, using my name instead of a nickname, putting myself out there is something I could never have done without genuinely person centred and trauma informed support. It’s something I could never have imagined myself doing until I found trust and hope, in others, in the wider world and in myself.
It still feels risky, my body still holds the voices and fears that were piled high over years. But day by day it’s become more comfortable. Each time I speak, write, remember in a safe way the danger moves further away, becomes quieter.
I don’t have to hide anymore. My silence helped me to survive in some ways, but it was never suggested in order to protect me. It was designed to shield the perpetrators and my fears were manipulated to convince me that silence and invisibility meant security.
I am finding my voice after a long time of fearing it. I’m learning methods to ease the pain and shame, to settle the nerves and be at ease connecting with others at the same time as connecting with myself.
I physically escaped that web, that world a decade ago. Now I’m escaping its ruins and remnants by allowing myself to be seen and heard in the hope that others are seen earlier. My key now is my voice, words and knowledge I hid for far too long.
There is a way through the maze of silence, a sustainable route based on truth, trust and hope. A path that opens up to and through purpose and safety.