IT! The feeling of loneliness, emptiness, despair, anger, relief, and it seems like everything else all balled into one. Why children who have been abused still love their abusers? Why molestation survivors blame themselves? How one person becomes the focus of support and caring? Why one loss can make a difference so powerful that it changes the course of one’s life.
People who have not been through shit, and there are many types, just do not get what it is like to have been abused, molested, put down, ridiculed, and treated like a mistake by the people who were supposed to care and make you feel safe. Sometimes, it is hard to believe that there are those out there who had a good child and good memories. Whose parents loved and encouraged them. Who had a two-parent household.
IT, is why I have a passion for going into the field of social work. Understanding the experience plus having the knowledge of the process enables me to be able to make a difference. I do not know exactly what that is yet. I know that I will have to choose one area, yet I do not know where I want to focus. Personally, I have been through many categories of topics that could turn into research and change. Right now, I am trying to decide where to focus. Recognition and signs of abuse and neglect, prevention of child maltreatment, family therapy for those who have been affected by violence, domestic violence, parenting skills, a woman’s right to choose…. Yes, those are all going through my head at any one time.
Being passionate is advantageous when studying and researching. It is also a hinderance in that I want to do more than I can. I want to make the most impact in whatever path I choose to go down. I want to know IT. That subject or area that only I lived through. I want to become an expert on the researchers, laws and policies. I want to become involved and informed. Most of all I want to help in whatever way I can. I do not just want to sit back and talk about changes, I want to make them. One small step at a time. I know that I will get there because others have that have come before me.
Apparently, I better get used to frustrating and overwhelming night classes. I hate the dark. I did not want to take an evening class, yet I do not want to take a professor that will stress me out either. Toss a coin at that point I guess.
I already know that class is going to suck tonight!!! We are talking about child welfare policy. I am taking two other classes this semester on the same subject. It is good to know the information, yet sometimes it is just to much. Why can’t anyone talk of change? Why do we continue with the same disheveled system? Being the end of the semester and the fact that I reached my limit weeks ago, I would rather just go home and work on a paper.
It does not help that I feel that the professor and I are in two different schools. I want to see the future as being one that can be changed to make laws and policies more realistic and effective. I feel like sometimes it is just go with the flow. Why? In order for things to get better sometimes they need to change. Hell sometimes, the entire thing just needs to be torn up or broken and completely redone.
That is what I think of some of our social policies. The policies for children are the worst. Adults think they know best, yet ask a kid and they will tell you something different. Sometimes no matter where they live or what background they come from, you can still get the same answer. Essentially, love, support, and some respect. They are not objects on a chessboard or a game piece that can be moved around. Something needs to give. Although I doubt that it will be anything tonight except my temper!!
Everyone around me is talking about Cinco de Mayo. They are excited about going out with friends and having a great time. Me, this is yet another nightmare that I had to live through. Another loss of a person that I could not get back. Actually, the loss of the first person that I was told that I just needed to get over and move on from.
Life just went on. No matter how bad or devastating something was there was not time to morn. Grief was not allowed. Today, that same grief still haunts me wherever I go and each year on anniversaries. Physically, I do not feel well. My stomach hurts and I can barely keep my eyes open. Mentally, I cannot focus and thoughts turn to dark places.
Yet, today is another day and no-one cares. There is not one person who can see the pain and agony on the inside. There are no physical wounds to show. There is nothing that is “wrong” for anyone to see. Everything is invisible. Once again, I just have to deal with it and go on like nothing has happened.