On Survivor Identity

 I suppose to some degree I still feel like both. The word victim to me always felt like it had this air of self pity attached to it. All these negative, nasty social connotations that aren't necessarily true. 'Victim' for me felt like this was your fault, you know? Or, 'Oh, poor you- you couldn't do anything to get yourself out', like. You know, it just felt like I was blaming myself with that word dangling over my head, even though that's not at all true.

Don't be afraid to embrace the word victim, because a 'victim' implies that you have been brutalized in some way, or multiple ways. You have been made a victim, whether you like it or not. And once you realize that, once you realize that you are a victim, and there is really not much you could have done to prevent any of that from happening, then you become a survivor. And then you can grow stronger, and you can learn to heal and process. And then you feel less like a victim and more like a queen.

[laughs]

On Grief

 [sighs] I think grief is like the wrecking ball that kind of smashed through the foundation, and as it did so, it stirred up all the other really strong, awful emotions- the sadness, the fear, the anger, and so much more. And at the center of it all, you know, the grief is still there. You know, you're mourning your vulnerability. You can't feel safe around other people for a really long time, at least in my case. It's like you're mourning things you didn't know you were going to lose. You're mourning things that you didn't know you'd miss. And, like I said before, you're kind of mourning the idea of this good, kind person that never existed, but you're also mourning your peace of mind.

On The Healing Journey

 I think, when everything really got started, right at the beginning, while I was in the thick of it, I was definitely in the midst of a, 'Oh my goodness, why- me' sort of phase, where my primary concern was avoiding the abuser, trying to stay safe, trying to get my head around what was happening. And trying to figure out what my next steps were going to be. Especially when he fled, and I was left kind of picking up the pieces.

After that, it was sort of a fear of not being believed because I'm a trans woman. And at that point in my life, I had only really just started the transition. I still presented very, very masculine- still had a very masculine voice, masculine build, masculine hair. And, I felt that maybe the police wouldn't believe me, maybe my friends wouldn't believe me, maybe my family wouldn't understand. Because, you look and sound like a man, shouldn't you have been able to do something? And the answer is no, you know, for a lot of reasons.

Um, in time that sort of shifted into a story of, I am a trans woman who survived a crime. I survived manipulation. I survived being, you know, psychologically attacked and touched in ways I didn't want to be. I was targeted because I was a trans woman. Not because I was anybody else, not because I look like anybody else, but because of that's who I was. So my story became more of a story of a trans woman's survival.

I was lucky in a sense that right as this was happening, I was introduced to survivors that he had left in his wake of destruction. I had learned that there were 21 of us, and I had spoken to I think 10 of us that had been willing to come forward. So I had put together a small support group on Telegram to just share what we went through, share how we're coping, offer advice, sort of vent, bash the guy, you know. Anything that we could do to give us a little more power over our own situations, and realize that we're not alone, and try to help each other if anyone chose to go through with any legalities. So far, I'm the only one who's done it.

I was warned head on, you know, by my fellow survivors in the group, that this would be extremely non linear. And gosh, they were right. I think out of everything they told me, that was the most dead on thing they had said. From the get go, I would say that non linear process was, uh, very evident. I would be fine for a few moments, flashing back the next. Um, being frightened for hours, just having constant anxiety attacks- then fine, then not. And this process would just repeat at random, as it seemed to please. And as things sort of slowed down a little, and I began the healing process, the non linear sense of it really blossomed. I had some very extreme flashbacks at just random times of the day, during random activities. Could have been in the middle of work, could have been at home, it didn't seem to matter. And then there were days where I felt like I beat it- that I finally made the whole journey, and I was fine, only to be in complete tears a few hours later, feeling like I was right back at the beginning again.

And there's no shame in feeling that way. That's just the way that this goes. And here we are, a year later. This is when it all began, you know, one year ago. This is when all the trouble started. So it certainly feels non linear again. There are some things I remember still, in complete detail, and I can't help but think about it, and feel that I'm right there, right then. And I could feel him, I could smell him, and I could hear everything that he says. And then shortly thereafter, it is one year later again, and I am feeling confident, strong, and okay, and in touch with reality. And I know that this process is just going to kind of repeat itself for, I don't really know how long. But just knowing that it will, at least I can expect it. And I can face it far more easily now than I did at the very beginning of all this nonsense.

On The Story of Domestic Violence

 Well, when I was making my mind up about what to do about this- because I hated the idea of being a victim. The word victim was very hard for me to swallow, but it is what I was. I had to do something. I was afraid to take action, but I was worried that fear might lead to future conflicts with this individual. And those conflicts or interactions might be the last interactions I ever have with anybody. So, I swallowed my fear and I walked to the police station, and I made a police report. Completely alone, on my own, and I was terrified. I wasn't sure if I would be believed, but I did it anyway. And the officer recommended that I reach out to an organization that could help domestic violence victims- survivors. And if they hadn't recommended that, I might not be sitting here today. I was too afraid to take really further legal action than a restraining order, but being able to take therapy sessions, and learn how to stay safe, went a very long way.

Yeah, the legal system is, uh, I'm not gonna lie, it's, it's daunting- it's- there is- you walk in there, you know, and you have no idea what to expect, you don't know who to talk to, and it can be scary. Coming out of, um, a sexual assault, a repeated sexual assault, I wasn't sure what anyone was gonna say, and I wasn't sure what sort of help I was gonna get. When you sit down to tell your story, and they write it, that's hard. Because now, you know, it's going on record, you know. And it was just very difficult to tell law enforcement- to tell clerks that, you know, I went through this, that, and the other thing. And, you're just laying every bit of your history out and it leaves you raw, and shaking, and in tears. But it's vital that you do this.

 But luckily the judge granted me my order of protection. And then came the hard part, of trying to figure out where this guy had run off to. Turned out he had run off to Florida. And trying to get papers served in the chaotic state of Florida is impossible. Law enforcement refused to do it. We had to go through a third party legal system, throw down a lot of money, just to get them to serve the papers. And it took them a month and a half to get a time right to find him, and serve. And eventually, he got officially served a week before my next trial date- well, not trial date, a hearing. I was um- that hearing date was the most frightening one, because that was the opportunity he was going to have to talk. He had filed for a motion of nonappearance. So at least I knew he wasn't going to show. But as it came to be my time to be seen in front of the judge, she had him on speakerphone. Hearing his voice over the PA system in the courtroom was the scariest thing I had faced in all of this time. He luckily agreed to a two year extension of the order of protection. I was terrified that he might try to continue his abuse on me, in front of the court. But luckily he didn't, he just stuck to yes or no answers. And it was over. And I've never heard from him since.

I know the legal process is confusing. It's baffling. It's frustrating Parts of it make absolutely no sense. You will hit hardships. You may have to pay a lot of money. Do anything in your power to keep fighting the legal fight, to keep yourself safe. I'm glad that I did. And I'm fighting back tears talking about it, but so far, at least in my case, he has stayed away. And hopefully he'll continue to just, not be in my picture, and never bother me, or anyone else again.

On Support

 Well, luckily for me, I was already in therapy. Um, I started therapy in 2020 when my fiancee was diagnosed with brain cancer. So I stayed in the program, um, through her remission. And I was transferred into a special program for people transitioning, it was a brand new program. So luckily I had a fairly decent support system right as this chaos entered my life. And I was given some additional services through Willow, um, to handle all the, uh, immediate, absolute frantic chaos that sort of spawned out of all this. And through both of those channels, I learned how to talk about it a little easier, communicate about it, understand my feelings, and be able to talk to friends about it more, in a way that they could understand. So, that was immensely helpful. And if I didn't have those tool at the beginning of all this, and through it, I don't really think talking about it would be a reality. I think I would be under my rock still, afraid to look out my window.

On Tools

 Uh, for me personally, I did a lot of writing. A lot of half finished short stories, a lot of angry poetry, a lot of unreadable scribbles- just drawing circles on paper, just to get emotions out. Sometimes I listened to music. Sometimes it was easy, ambient stuff that just sort of conjured my imagination, and let me drift in a different direction away from myself. Sometimes it was angry music, very strong lyrics that kind of helped me embrace that raw emotion for a little while- let me ride it out. And other times I just meditated. I will say that, for the first few months, it was a very rough time. There was a lot of passive suicidal ideation. So I found myself calling lifelines, after hours therapy lines, just to talk to somebody. I would strongly encourage that, you know, if that's something you find yourself needing. But all these things sort of helped me get on top of things in time.

On Reclaiming

 I'll get very personal here. Um, one of the last things my abuser said to me when he fled the state, um, in a very, very, very angry voice message, was, 'You will never be pretty, you will never be beautiful, you will never be cute', knowing that I was struggling with a tense, life threatening gender dysphoria. And, his words got to me. They destroyed me. I felt every ounce of weight those words had, and it destroyed my self esteem, it destroyed my self image, it destroyed my sense of identity. And I felt that I was truly a wretched, disgusting human being. That I would never, ever become the woman I was destined to be. And I realized, after some time that that was exactly what he wanted. It wasn't necessarily true, but that's the power he wanted to keep over me. He wanted me to stay quiet, submissive, frightened, ashamed- to feel that I was so unwanted and unloved and ugly, that there would be no chance for me to fight back or to talk to anybody.

And when I realized that, it kind of gave me a bit of a spark to fight. It's because you don't tell the trans person, or non binary person, or anybody, that they're ugly, that they're unworthy of love, that they're never going to be who they truly are. And if they do, you should use that as your strength, because you know, they don't want you to get to that point because they want to stay in control of your life. Don't let them do it. Reach down inside of you. Grab hold of that person you know yourself to be, and never let that go. And ride on that until you do reach that point where you feel completely whole.

On Affirmations

 When I started to really face my transition into womanhood head on, and cast off all that fear and doubt and anxiety one faces right as they begin that journey, I chose my new name as sort of a silly, yet half serious mantra that I would tell myself to face it, and be strong. I would say, 'I am a mighty vixen'. You know, vixen being a female fox, and fox being a part of my name. And vixens are very strong creatures for their size. They're very protective, very motherly. And so I would imagine myself as sort of this fierce, wild, yet careful, cautious, loving creature. And as I faced the aftermath of my assaults, the abuse, I would tell myself, 'You're still a mighty vixen. You survived what could have very easily been the end of you, but you survived. You really are a strong independent woman and you will continue to survive. You are a mighty vixen, so own it'.

From Where I Speak

 You know, I am a woman. I know I may not look it still, but I'm on my way. And knowing that much, makes me feel alive, resilient, a little more in tune with nature. I have always been sort of a natural person- very, very much a nature lover. My fiancée often jokes that 'You're like Snow White, birds literally land on you'. Like, yeah, that's true. And sometimes I think about that, when things are really, really tough. I am this mighty vixen, this- this female, just surfing through the waves of the world, hanging out with nature, just breathing in the same air as everybody else, every living creature. You know, we are all alive together.

Let's hold hands. [laughs]

Words of Care for Trans Survivors

 Being a trans woman, um, opened up some hardships, especially in the face of this sort of trauma. I remember crying one day when I was watching the news, and they said 50% of all trans people experience some sort of physical and or sexual assault. 50 percent. That is a mind blowing statistic. And it hit me then, that I'm in that statistic. And it's not even my first time being in that statistic. I hope that it's my last, but who can predict the future?

And I guess I wanted to say, if there are other trans people listening, any other non binary people, anybody on the gender spectrum- you're not alone. That 50% is huge when you really think about it. And I know you might feel alone, even if that is a huge number. But I assure you, you're not alone. And I know you might be scared, and angry, and afraid to share your story. But tell somebody. Go online, just write an anonymous post if you have to. Get out of bad situations. Just do something to stay alive.

Don't be afraid to talk. Don't be afraid to take action. We're entering a very uncertain time in our future. It is more important now than ever that we sort of try to, um, find a little courage to stand up for ourselves. Group together, if we can. Just do something. If you're trans, and you're being abused, or if you've already gone through abuse, hang on. I know I've said it before, that you're not alone, but I mean it. You're not. So many of us experience it. So many of us are afraid to say it. So many of us are afraid to talk about it, let alone get help- get out of the situation. But try anything that you can, to do so.

There are groups of trans survivors who will do anything they can to help you. I mean, I'm in a group. We put ourselves together to try to just deal with all the trauma we faced, just from one person. I would urge you to do the same. And if you have a friend going through the same thing, get them out of there. Do anything you can.

And never stop talking. Never stop. It's silence that will destroy you. It's fear. It's pain. Just keep talking. Keep sharing. And remember that you are beautiful. Remember that whatever your abuser has told you is a lie, and you will rise on top. And you will be the person you have been destined to be.

Words of Care

 I guess my best advice would be is to just start talking. Whoever listens, hang on to those people. Get yourself therapy, in any capacity. Make sure that you communicate as openly as you can with your therapist. Go to support groups if you have the means to do so. And if you don't, try to find some sort of online chat group or community, any resource where you can speak your truth- your experience, and just be heard.

You don't even necessarily need to have any feedback given. Just the fact that you can talk- get your feelings off of your chest for a little while, is immensely helpful. You've got a long road ahead of you, but don't let that be daunting. Don't let that be something to hold you back. I know you're scared, but don't be afraid to keep going.

No one else is really going to do it for you. You can have help, of course. But you're the only one who can speak for you, you're the only one who can really advocate for what you truly feel, what you truly want- to feel safe. Keep fighting, just do it for yourself. And know that all of us, even though we don't know you, we might not ever meet you, but we are all rooting for you.