Sam Dylan French has written a manifesto for all survivors of abuse. Who is the “he” of the story? I don’t know, or need to know, “he” is the abuser, by whatever name or title known. Dear survivor, you know the name because “he” is also the one you knew.
Seven years.
It’s taken me seven years to understand that what happened wasn’t my fault. To admit to myself that this person I trusted was never who he appeared to be. To look at that time in my life and see it for what it truly was: traumatic.
It’s been seven years, but when I see someone on the street that looks like him, it still feels like it was yesterday. My stomach drops. My vision blurs. My entire body tenses. And for a split second, I feel just as small and powerless as I did all those years ago.
I’m thousands of miles away from him but I forget that, sometimes.
I’m living my domestic life with a spouse, two cats, and the sweet little downtown flat. Sometimes I repeat the address like a mantra, just to remind myself of where I am. I keep a map of San…
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