You're Not A Bunch of Drama

 By Jeanette R. Harrison, MPH

Content Warning: Domestic Violence. This post discusses domestic violence and abuse. Some of the topics may be difficult or triggering for survivors. Please read only if you feel comfortable doing so.

Some days, some weeks, some months, some years are just hard. You know those times when even as you are going through it, you think to yourself, "How am I going to survive this? How am I going to get out of this situation? What am I going to do?" And you pray every night, every chance you get, "God, please help me!" So much to the point that you wonder if there is even a God. You wonder, where is God in all of this? Yet, you are told to keep your chin up, have faith, or endure to the end. None of it touches you because the pain is so deep, and that is all that seems real.

I kept my pain hidden because it wasn't allowed. I wasn't allowed to say that I was being abused, that I was mistreated. I wasn't allowed to talk about it or to be a real human being with feelings, pain, and vulnerabilities. I definitely wasn't allowed to be a vulnerable person. Instead, I was told that if I cried about what happened to me, I was "throwing myself a pity party," that I was "exaggerating," that I was "just trying to get attention," that I must have misunderstood, or that I loved them, so it was okay, and that I was just a "bunch of drama."

Even worse, I was told that it was my fault for acting upset, that I was just ungrateful, and everything was swept under the rug. I'm 55 years old now. This week, just this week, I realized that people knew how they were treating me was wrong. They knew, but they did it anyway. They were intentionally cruel and used the fact that I was abused against me. That's known as secondary abuse, by the way.

I am in kindergarten in this picture, and I was in my second foster home that I could remember. 

I watched video after video defending Amy Acton. Saying how brave she is. How she is a survivor. How she stood up to her abuser. Even former President Barack Obama stood up and praised her for how she overcame such hardships in life. Others criticized her opponents for wielding an abuser as a weapon against her. The thing that kept going through my head was, "What!?! People knew all along that the way they treated me was wrong!?!" As the day progressed, it changed to "People knew all along that the way they treated me was wrong." I listened to people say how brave Amy Acton was, and she is indeed brave and courageous. It takes a tremendous amount of courage and bravery as a child to stand up to your abuser and report them, because I did it myself.

As a child, I was physically abused by my bio-mother. I was hit with a belt to the point that I would have welts on my body. There were more times than I can remember when my mother wasn't there because she was too drunk or high to be there. There were always her men. I don't remember them all. I was locked in a bedroom, so many bedrooms. I couldn't come out until she decided. I know all the songs that were popular back then because I played records over and over again while I was locked up in those rooms. I was starved to the point that I threw up. I didn't have clothes to wear to birthday parties. I didn't have much in the way of toys. I had nothing. I was locked in a cold, dark basement and chained like a dog. No, I'm not remembering it wrong. Finally, our bio-mother left us one day and never came back. We were home alone for two weeks before anyone found us. I was taken from that family at age 7, and I didn't see them again until I was in my early 20s, and they were not welcoming. It was my fault because I told. Because I "caused a bunch of drama."

I had to be a grown-up as a child. Moving into houses with complete strangers was horrific, to say the least. But no one ever acknowledged that. Never. Not once, ever. No one ever said that must have been hard. No one ever realized that a child who lives with adult strangers is 1000% at their mercy. I wasn't welcomed. I was treated like I was some "problem child" and taken to therapist after therapist because "there had to be something wrong" with me. The fact that I was abused as a child was a weapon wielded over me. Whenever I talked about it, I was told I was just "trying to get attention" or treated like I was tainted. I was "just a bunch of drama." A phrase I still hear people I attended college with say to this day. But they knew better. That's the part that baffles me. They knew better but didn't do better. I wasn't treated as someone who was vulnerable.

As an adult, I also was in an abusive relationship. People who are abused often go through life being abused. One of the reasons that happens is that they are conditioned to abusebeing part of their lives. They are taught to endure. But for me, it was about making it to the next day. It's like when I am walking miles or doing anything challenging. I think about what is making me weary or tired, and I think, "It's just one more day. I can make it one more day. One more step." Even if I just counted the steps. Even when I felt like lying down on the ground. Even as I stood and cried in the shower.

A lot of people ask why I moved to Idaho. I would say it was because I was exiled there. I complained about being abused. About someone putting their hands around my throat because I talked in bed at night. All I was doing was talking. They held a pillow over my face and kicked me in the back for the same reason. But everyone acts like it was nothing. I was beaten up when we didn't have tickets for a game and because I said I was "better than" someone else. Even the church I attended started telling me I wasn't better than anyone. They acted like I was lying when I said someone was stalking me. It was always my fault because, to them, and to everyone, it seemed, I was a "bunch of drama."

 I didn't even have a blanket when I moved to Idaho, so I made this one. My dog is actually sitting on a plastic couch I bought at a thrift store. That's one of the few pieces of furniture I had. 

When I moved to Idaho, I started my life over with nothing. I tell this story a lot. A few boxes, two suitcases, and my little dog. I agonized for years, only to have it all taken away from me the night I left, after I fought for years in court against a multimillion-dollar real estate conglomerate. But I was a "bunch of drama." People sat back with their popcorn and their large drinks, chomping away as they watched me like a movie. They went out and laughed afterward. I was not told I was brave, courageous, or strong very often, but I was told I was a bunch of drama. I felt like the reason people helped me was so I would stop complaining, not because they cared. I felt like they helped me stay there so I wouldn't go back to Missouri. I thought Missouri was my home, but it wasn't. Home is where you feel loved and cared for and wanted.

Six years of fighting for my life and my stability wore me down, and I just couldn't take it anymore. Abuse wasn't just hitting me. It was watching me suffer. Watching me be sick, using my accomplishments against me. "You wrote a walking book, so you should be able to walk for miles when you have pneumonia." Or, "You have a master's degree, so you should be able to start your life over with nothing." Or, "You won't act the way we want, you are complaining, so you can just sit there or lie there until you stop." I was made to feel like maybe someone would care about me when I stopped complaining. Then I realized it didn't matter. And I realized who I did matter to. It wasn't a lot of people, just a handful.

Anyway, this pain, this abuse, is a lot for anyone to carry in their life. I started letting it go almost a year ago. After a few months of depression, I came out of it. But there are always repercussions for me if I don't hang on for dear life every minute of every day. That's how I feel. Ultimately, I had to move out of another apartment. I lost everything in that move because no one wanted to help me. It was my fault, my problem; they were too busy. How dare I ask them when I didn't ask them about their time frame? I was a bad person, treated like a child to be chastised. I was just "too much drama." Because they had to examine themselves and how they treated me and others in their lives. My family in Idaho washed their hands of me, acting like I was a bad person,  telling me to "keep their names out of my mouth," and making threats and falsely claiming I was “vilifying” them. Because I was “too much drama” for anyone to take accountability.

The rest of the story for this picture is that I had just lost everything a few weeks before. Everything I owned, all of my furniture, all of my clothes except one suitcase. 

If you are reading this today, and you are experiencing abuse or are a survivor of abuse, I want you to know you are not a bunch of drama. You matter as much as, or more than, everyone else. You shouldn't be ashamed. You should stand up. Anyone who makes you feel guilty for speaking your truth and speaking out is wrong. Anyone making you feel like something is wrong with you because you experienced abuse is wrong. Anyone who uses what happened to you against you is wrong. 

You are brave. You are courageous. You are strong. You are loving. You are caring. You are kind. You are not a bunch of drama. You are a human being who deserves all life has to offer.

DOMESTIC VIOLENCE RESOURCES

If you are experiencing domestic violence, abuse, or feel unsafe in a relationship, help is available. You do not have to wait until things get worse to reach out. You do not have to be physically injured to deserve help.

National Domestic Violence Hotline (24/7)

Call: 1-800-799-SAFE (7233)

Text: START to 88788

Online chat: https://www.thehotline.org

If you are in immediate danger, call 911.

If you are concerned that someone may be monitoring your phone, computer, or internet activity, consider using a trusted person's device or a public computer to seek help. Be aware that internet activity cannot always be completely erased.

You are not alone. You deserve to be safe, heard, respected, and treated with dignity.