>Wow, am I ever lucky!

>For a while, when I thought about writing this post, I was afraid it would sound like that whole twisted appreciation concept I was talking about last year. But I will try not to make it sound that way.

Just recently, I had to do some training for a place where I volunteer. The organization helps women who have been abused in one way or another. There’s the shelter, there’s the place where someone who has been sexually assaulted can get some counselling, there’s the rural women’s support program, the transitional support program, and then there are community events designed to raise awareness. But the thing that shokcs me when I go for these trainings is not the content of the training. It’s the things the other women say who are also coming to the training. I am always amazed at how many of them are survivors of some form of abuse.

I know the statistics are high. I know it happens to a lot of people, and that saddens me. But when it’s suddenly possible to put faces, not just one face, but a whole room-full of them, on those statistics, it sure has a lot more power. I suddenly felt like the odd one out, and I know this sounds absolutely horrible to say, but I felt unbelievably lucky!

Let me try and explain, try and make that sound better. I didn’t feel lucky in the “Remember, someone has it worse off than you…” sort of way. I just meant statistically. When it happens to so many, how did I manage to escape? How did I make it through childhood without having my innocense destroyed? How did I not meet that horrible, possessive boyfriend who turned out to be a complete and utter asshole? How did I go to university and somehow avoid being raped somewhere along the way? How did I stay so free and clear of what so many people have the unfortunate experience of meeting head on? A more ominous question comes to mind. How long will I be able to stay so lucky? Will I meet the wrong friend one day who will try to take what I don’t want to give? I know I don’t have to worry about the abusive boyfriend/husband thing unless, *shiver* something happens to Steve and I meet someone else much, much later. But when we were not together, oh that thought scared me. I was afraid some manipulative asshole would read that I was low, make me feel good to get to me, and then once he had control of me, I’d be screwed. So I didn’t really super go out looking for dates. I just watched the weirdies come out of the woodwork. But even with that worry behind me, with my tendency to meet freaks, how long will it be before I have to fend off some creep?

And now I’ve probably made some people think I’m neurotic, pissed off some others, and made some others very uncomfortable. Hopefully I make sense to someone.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.