Damn, You Really Were Abused
When your vulnerabilities lead to usury instead of empathy.
Written and narrated by Demian
It was late evening. He had promised he would come to my house if I came to his first. He wanted to unwind, he said, cuddle with me a bit before coming over to spend the night. So, I drove to to his place.
Cuddling on his couch turned to sex. Having sex led him to changing his mind. He wasn’t coming home with me. And I couldn’t stay the night, because he was subletting and overnight guests were not allowed.
My initial emotional reaction? Anger, which I quickly diverted into disappointment.
My verbal response? “That’s okay. I’m just happy to spend this time together.” I snuggled closer to him and smiled.
(sigh: I know)`
What I remember, to this day, was the look on his face, the one I would see again in other occasions—a kind of detached distance, like he was studying the situation, like he was studying me.
And then his eyes lit up, and he said, “Damn… you really were abused.”
And chuckled.
I had shared my childhood with him. He knew I had been abused. I didn’t expect him to chuckle at how deeply.
I was dismayed. But not because he had pulled a bait-and-switch, or because he misled and deceived me but because he couldn’t receive my love.
I insisted what I said, about just being happy to be with him, came from love not abuse. I knew what was important to me. It was him. I was so hurt he couldn’t see that.
And then, what should have been me saying a few choice words and walking out the door, catapulted me into trying to prove to him that my love was real, that I did cherish him, and that I was worthy of his love, for years.
I had taken the justified anger I initially felt, the warning that this guy did me wrong, that he was untrustworthy, transactional, and manipulative, I took that red flag, tore it up, and turned the pieces into rose petals.
He wasn’t wrong.
I really was abused, terribly, by my father who groomed me to fit my little young self around his ego and sexual needs and my mother who needed me to be her nurturer and protector.
He saw the wound rightly. He saw its effect on me in real time. It’s what he did with what he saw that was egregious.
The wound that gave rise to this vulnerability within me, the need to prove my love, my worth, my self, became his opportunity and leverage to use.
Your vulnerabilities—whether it’s your past, your naïveté, or circumstances—don’t make you complicit in any abuse that another may choose to inflict.
I don’t care if you didn’t see it coming, or couldn’t see it coming, or chose not to see it coming for whatever reasons.
Even if your past, or your later life experience, or current situation, set you up to more likely be abused or taken advantage of, it doesn’t make you complicit for another person’s choices.
To take advantage of someone is not a given response to vulnerability. It’s a choice.
Some abusers create that vulnerability, wearing you down like badgers digging a hole into your psyche. Others take advantage of vulnerability created by others before them, or of your kindness, or just the opportunity.
Manipulators and abusers don’t like to take personal responsibility. They prefer to blame the people they hurt for their own behavior. They don’t need your help. They blame you just fine all by themselves, and whoever they enlist to come at you.
So don’t blame yourself, too.
Take responsibility. That’s empowering.
Leave the self-blame. It ladens you with guilt when you should be moving forward with resolve.
You are responsible for your choices—for healing, for learning from your mistakes, for growing. But taking that responsibility does not absolve others from theirs.
And for us, no matter what got us here, past mistakes don’t have to be future choices.
We don’t have to stay in bad relationships. I understand, there may be extenuating circumstances and leaving may not just be as easy as walking out a door.
But ultimately, we don’t have to put up with liars. We don’t have to cater to the demands of grifters who want to parasite us into a shadow of what we used to be or could be or still can be.
Stand on your truth, engage in your present moment, discern what is right for you, seek out help, create a support network, and do what’s before you to do. For your healing. For love of self and others.
Yeah, I really was abused. And someone took advantage of that. But I can forgive myself for letting him. I understand where I was at that time, and I have worked hard to be where I am now.
I have grown. I have become more aware, more discerning, more knowledgeable of what I’m dealing with within myself and other people. And I like who I’ve become and who I am now.
I’ll probably always have scars, and in regard to what’s happening in our country now, maybe America will too, but that doesn’t mean we can’t learn from this reality. It doesn’t mean that we can’t make a change, make a difference. And it doesn’t mean we can’t all come out stronger. Because we can.
And I believe we already are.
Question: Have you experienced a situation where your vulnerability was used to someone else’s benefit, when someone you might have trusted leveraged it for their gain? If it’s right for you, I would love to hear your experience! There is power in the telling. ❤️
From my heart to yours,
Demian Yumei ~ Silent No More
Silent No More is a pro-democracy voice with focus on personal healing, creative expression and activism through the written and spoken word, and song.
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