When I went to the NASW national conference in Washington, DC, earlier this year, I learned that how we introduce ourselves matters. When I met some people there and tried to make some connections, they clearly were confused about me and what I was standing to achieve.

One girl, “Steff*,” and I have been in contact since the conference ended.

She seemed nice enough.

So she started talking to me about her struggles finding a therapist. I stood by as a supportive friend who cheered her on and wanted nothing but goodness to come her way, even trying to offer up my own experiences to help her out.

I made the mistake of sharing my background.

And when I opened up about my past, she could not have been more rude and out of touch (and this is even in comparison to Maricopa County COT healthcare professionals).

I started explaining how I have gotten through abuse and torture, even stating very clearly to her how one guy tormented me to the point where I have a TBI and a dent in my cerebellum from his abuse. I tried explaining why I did what I did when I was with him, since she wanted to keep asking why I did things and stayed.

It is triggering to hear from someone that I need to prove myself.

Like why not just tell someone that you don’t want to hear them? It is way more effective than asking triggering and traumatizing questions.

And in my haste, I freaked out and said the only thing I knew how: “Good for you, not having been through abuse.” (Which I can admit was extreme, perhaps.) And still, when I said I wasn’t going to share anything any longer and just be there to support her, Steff seemed much more at ease to continue to talk to me.

While I can respect limits we put around ourselves, especially when boldly placed by others, it is heartwrenching to not have much social support. It is OK to be everyone else’s social support. I have made it this far without much reciprocity.

Case in point: I recently tried to date this guy, “TJ*,” who also told me that my past was too much for him to deal with. He would retort by divulging random pieces of his past trauma to prove a point to me that he was more broken, and I needed to shut up. (The fact that he only had one story to repeat is I guess besides the point…)

Steff I think is just trying to be clear about boundaries (which is OK), and yet, there’s a part of me that dies inside when I realize how isolating my experiences are. I am OK with boundaries being placed. I would like it more to have these set in place beforehand rather than by getting (perhaps unintentionally) harmful and distant responses.

Sometimes, it makes me wonder if it was worth surviving abuse.

The other side … the grass is green … but is it really something worth fighting for?

The jury’s out.

It seems very likely it is a standstill for the test of time.

XOXO,

Dorothy B (that’s me)

*all names have been robustly changed to protect the innocent