The Perpetual Victimization of Victims — Reflecting on Trauma & Suicide

Victims — the ones down on their luck, the ones who need help from others, the ones suffering from things like abuse, trauma, or addiction — they are the ones cast aside. They are judged for being down, for being at their low. “It’s their fault for putting themselves in this situation.” “If they would only do this.” “If only they didn’t make that decision.” Your judgment reads that people, human being breathing people, don’t deserve help or comfort during dark times. That they don’t get to have a claim on the basic human needs.
For some reason when Chris Cornell died it didn’t affect me as hard as the death today of Chester Bennington on Chris Cornell’s 53rd birthday. This has broken me wide open.
It serves as an unavoidable reminder of my own pain, my own feeling of abandonment from those I counted on most. It reminds me that my life is still not in a good place after a year of deep upheaval and loss. It reminds me that I actually may never get my life back no matter how much hope I hold in my heart. It reminds me that I’ve been without my own home since July of last year. It reminds me that I’ve been in my “predicament” for an entire torturous year. It forces me to look at myself deeply and remember that I never thought I would ever be in a situation like this, let alone it lasting for this long. It reminds me that I still don’t see an out.
It reminds me that my narcissistic, manipulative, alcoholic, financially & emotionally abusive ex-husband continues to win at his life goal of punishing me for divorcing him. It reminds me that those I held closest turned their backs on me in my most desperate time of need. It reminds me that my kids still do not live with me because I cannot afford to care for them. It reminds me that I rarely see them due to a shitty financial rock bottom, lack of housing, schooling (mine and theirs), and logistics. It reminds me that I had to surrender them to the devil solely because of finances. It reminds me that no child should have to live away from their present and loving mother because she is enduring a financial hardship. It reminds me that anytime I do spend with my children, we are wiping away tears at the goodbye and the hugs last for minutes not seconds. It reminds me what it felt like to have my soul ripped out of my body when I finally realized I could not care for them any longer. It reminds me of the primal scream that would not stop upheaving from depths I didn’t know existed.
It reminds me of the infinite darkness I’ve seen. How those who have suffered a trauma so deep are never at an even point in life; they are constantly treading water. They are never at zero, they are continually in the negative scraping and clawing their way to find zero. This is called survival mode. Survival mode does not allow you to be in control of your circumstance. It keeps you at the mercy of other people’s help. It’s the perpetual victimization of victims.
Another death reminds me that losing an influential and well-known person due to suicide brings out the bullshit Facebook statuses of how people will leave the teapot on for you. That their door is always open for whatever you need; bullshit, bullshit, bullshit. It reminds me of how rejected I feel by most of my former “best” friends. It reminds me that when you’re down, people will take the chance to kick you down further because you remind them of their own deep seeded fear. They kick you with judgments about your situation, with the rejection of help, with unreturned texts and phone calls, and no check-ins to see how you faired through your latest life blow. I have been left out in the cold by so many. Completely alone.
As a mother, the thought of ever losing my children is the worst thing that could ever happen to me. And it happened. When I needed a place to stay for a night, a week, or a month I was told things like, you can stay but there’s not enough room for your kids. There is nowhere to go for a mother and two children that is affordable and/or large enough unless it’s a women’s shelter. I have managed to stay out of a shelter, barely. I have spent an afternoon in the Volunteers of America office while my advocate called around to shelters to check availability. (BTW — there was no immediate availability and I was advised that my best bet was to wait for someone to fail out due to substance abuse.) If you ever wondered how people end up living in their cars or parked RVs on the side of the road, this is how. I am the example.
I am where I am today only because a very few earth angels appeared on my path and showed empathy and true willingness to help with zero judgments. It’s those very few interactions during a year of heartbreak and disappointments that keep my heart barely beating. And music. Music keeps my heart beating. So when my musically creative brothers take their life due to deep, deep despair, it completely wrecks me. I could be them, I should be them. But for some reason, I’m not. I’m still here and I do not have that thing in my head that contemplates suicide. I have the thing in my head that wants to use my experience to help others. To be an example of what life looks like when it goes sideways. To be the glimmer of hope when life looks dark. I know that I have been that person for some people very recently. Even through my own struggles, I am that person. I have been given a gift and a mission on this go around on earth. It is to honestly speak my truth, as ugly as it is, so that I may help others flailing through the storm. I’ve seen small miracles happen in my life despite the conspiracy against my success. It’s the glimmers that keep me going.
Please know that anyone going through a desperately dark time will most likely not reach out, they can’t see beyond the demons that have shacked up in their head. Will you be their glimmer of hope? Will you offer your help even though it makes you uncomfortable or disrupts your routine or family dynamic? Will you actually be there for someone when they need you? Because when the wheel turns, as it does, and your number is up to face the darkness you will clamor for people to be there for you and I hope they will be.
National Suicide Prevention Lifeline Call 1–800–273–8255
