There are times when I’m walking when I feel like it’s all for nothing, that the stories I carry with me are hopeless, that the fight against abuse and awareness and assault is never-ending and all efforts are fruitless. I feel like a voice lost at sea, that my pleas for compassion and help fly into the void, unheard, ignored, passing by and drowning in deep waters.
Sometimes the steps are hard and heavy, the weight of the pain pressing down on my soul, and I push on wondering if it means anything at all.
I bring up domestic violence in a classroom of thinkers, and the subject is brushed aside. I mention social work to someone who asks about my education, and they ask if I don’t just sometimes want to smack a woman who won’t leave her abusive life. And “but why?” comes up so often, I tire from explaining. My words fall on deaf ears; compassion is in short supply for “those people who won’t stand up for themselves.” My heart breaks with each judgment, each pointing of the finger at victim instead of abuser.
My heart aches to make people understand. Sometimes I realize the only way some will truly understand is if they too suffer at the hands of such ugliness, and I would wish that on no one, but then my soul cries out: how do I get you to see, to do something, to feel something more than pride that you would never let that happen to you, or boast even how you saw the red flags and got out, unlike those other ones who aren’t strong enough?
Waves crash down on me as I anchor myself to these deep waters of pain, these heavy stories of despair and loss, and I plead with you to hear my voice, to set yourself free from judging those who hurt so deeply around you, and to embrace the idea that we can all step in and make that difference in one life, one moment of listening and hearing at a time.
I feel like a voice lost at sea, looking for each lighthouse of compassion, each safe shore of love. I beg for your mercy and grace and love, each of you, for someone else. Pain is pain is pain, so let my voice be heard, let me be loud enough to get your attention, to notice, to see, to allow yourself to be that one person for someone in pain.
Is it you?
Do you hear me?