What if I don’t want to be called a survivor?

It’s funny—we hear so much about “this doesn’t have to define you”. Yet once sexual or domestic violence is perpetrated against you, suddenly it feels like it is your only identity. You are now a survivor.

You think, “Gosh, how did I define myself before I became a survivor? Who was I before this? Who the hell am I now? And what if I don’t want to be called a victim or survivor? What am I then? How do I explain myself? And why do I have to? I didn’t ask for this, yet I labelled and suddenly it feels like it’s all I am. It is defining.”

After what happened, who I was was robbed of me. He stole who I was and who I wanted to be, leaving me lost within myself. I’m angry. I’ll never get her back, and I’m angry because now I have to somehow try and feel at home in a stranger’s vessel. That’s how it feels. I’m grieving every part of me that was stolen and have to find a way to live as a stranger in myself. My life now feels like a constant out-of-body experience and the wheels just keep on turning. Life literally just goes on.

I grieve who I was.
I grieve who I am now.
And who I wanted to be.
That’s a lot of grief, yet I’m still alive. It’s difficult to articulate. She will never come back—she’s gone. I feel I have to be a survivor, because that’s all I have to hold on to right now. It’s the only label I can identify with. The only thing that feels identifiable. The only thing that’s left.

I wonder… is that what’s meant by ‘healing is a journey of self-discovery’?
Are we forced on a journey of trying to find home again? But home in your own body, mind and soul.
I think being a survivor right now is my float. It doesn’t have to be forever. Until I feel at home in myself again, being a survivor gives some substance to what I am, or basically, what I’ve been left with.

I’m hopeful I will feel at home in myself one day.