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176 pages, Paperback
First published February 17, 2020
When I finally came out about my years of trauma, that pain was dismissed by people who refused to accept how someone who was traumatized could be in pain and still get shit done. My resilience was used to erase my pain.
We were a group of traumatized survivors working long hours with no pay and little validation for our efforts. We were toxic, mean, and petty. But we had no tools to cope with our own trauma, let alone the pain and suffering we took on from the survivors we were supporting. So we turned on each other. The universe was throwing up countless red flags for me to slow down and get help, but I ignored them all. Every day, I bargained. If I help one more person, maybe then I’ll feel better. I never made the connection between the work I was doing and my life with Xavier. After all, it was examining myself through the lens of white privilege that had pushed me to start this work, not my own experience of abuse. And even though I was spending thousands of dollars on tuition to write a thesis on the complexities of resilience, it never occurred to me that my deep awareness of the issue came from my own lived experience. It was just what the data told me. I was just being a good listener.
Like a true millennial, I took my pain to the internet, launching into a Twitter tirade about the big, fat decade-long secret I no longer had to carry. I wanted people to understand that if this could happen to someone like me, someone with the privilege and platform to take on the Canadian Armed Forces, then you truly have no idea what people are going through unless you ask.