“Some days I feel like I can conquer the world and some days I feel like I am being conquered.”
-Stephanie D. Pearson-Davis
I am so happy to be writing today. Describing the last almost three months as difficult would be a major understatement . I have wanted to write— to tell you what my family and I have been facing. I have wanted to write about the truth of walking my child through a traumatic experience. I have wanted to share the intimate details of a helpless mother… the heartache of watching the best parts of you become the darkest part of you.
But this is my safe space… my joy.
This is a blog read by many people and yet it still feels so intimate to me. I didn’t want to tarnish it by discussing an experience I haven’t healed from. I didn’t want to transfer these negative emotions. I’ve been so angry and sad and angry and enraged.
My Sydney was a victim of bullying and bullying behavior.
Sydney, my effervescent girl… my self-assured, sassy, empathetic girl. She is the one who encourages others to be kind… the one who grabs lonely, isolated children off the “buddy bench” at recess so they don’t have to be alone. She was bullied.
And it wasn’t just that she was bullied. It was also that the senior most adults in charge pretended that it didn’t happen. They didn’t believe her because it was inconvenient to do so. And some wonder why folks take so long to disclose abuse. I fully understand— why victims… survivors don’t come forward. The experience of being unsupported and not believed is almost as bad as the initial trauma.
The act of disbelieving victims is a revictimization.
I’ve taken special considerations when raising my family. I married a magnificent man with immense potential and purpose. I’m well educated. I’ve never been to prison. I live in a beautiful neighborhood. We are good people. None of this mattered.
And also… the fact that I even tried to rationalize that we didn’t deserve this treatment because of those markers is bullshit.
No one deserves minimization and marginalization. No one.
Some folks have told me to take the high road. Then do it again and again. They don’t want me to speak my truth out loud. I say to them… I refuse to receive your projected discomfort.
My story belongs to me. The only person who can silence me is me.
Also, I’ve taken the high road and I’m done with it. You know who’s up there on the high road? People like me. And don’t get me wrong; it’s beautiful and peaceful up there. But I’ve learned the real work needs to be done down low.
I’m convinced— The kind of people who are always telling you to take the high road have never been there.
My girl has been traumatized and she is doing better. I have been traumatized and I am doing better. We are stronger as a result of this entire ordeal. But make no mistake… I will never be grateful for this experience.
We don’t need trauma to build strength.
We need love, patience, empathy, acceptance, consideration, respect, and accountability to build strength.
Some people don’t build strength in response to trauma. Sometimes, they die... a little at a time or all at once.
Whew… I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad I’m here. I’m glad my baby girl is here.
I just wanted to reach out and touch my readers. I. Am. Still. Here. My words are plentiful, but measured. I am healing. I know that someone reading this is healing too. I want you to know that you are not alone. I wish you could hear my momma’s voice saying, “This too shall pass.”. I want you to believe her like I do.
And still.. Some days I feel like I can conquer the world and some days I feel like I am being conquered. Either way, transparency erases shame and guilt.
The erasure of shame and guilt leads to peace and freedom.
I want to be free.
I’m not here because I’m an expert. I’m here because I have experiences. -Stephanie