…one of these words I don’t like at all. I can’t stand people who enjoy their victimhood, and, above all, I don’t want to be reffered to as a victim. This human being who touched me against my will again and again, I cannot call him persecutor, because if he was, and I wasn’t the rescuer, then only the victim is left. And I cannot bear that. My therapist often asked me why I am so much harder on myself than on others and why I can’t see that I was helpless and small. I have no answer to that, just doubt and shame and insecurity. Victim – the word sounds like pity to me, one more thing I don’t need.
After all, what happened wasn’t that bad. Other people go through things that are much worse.
And then, one day, my therapist said a sentence that I can still hear today. “As long as you cut yourself, you are the victim, just be aware of that.”
That changed something for me. This short and simple sentence is what kept me from cutting most often. Sometimes I actually get angry because she knew how much I hate victimhood – with this sentence she took away my blood red way out. I am not a victim, I don’t want to be a victim and if that means not to cut, this is one of the toughest challenges I ever got in therapy. I wasn’t prepared for it, just for skills and self-care and attentiveness. Not for my own pride being used against me and make me float mid-air!
I change the sentence, tell myself that he isn’t worth cutting, that the memory of his breath will never again inflict physical wounds on me. As tough as this topic is, I haven’t cut because of it in a long while. Because, if we can trust my therapist (and after all, that’s the whole point of the project) I am just a victim until I don’t fully realize this:
Nobody in the world is worth destroying myself.