Empathy

I have empathy for the family of my rapist. I feel for the response his mom had in protecting him. When the police called her she stood up for him. She expressed her disgust that “so any girl can just accuse my son and you’ll believe it & charge him?” And I get it. To her I am just “any girl.” “Any girl” who’s trying to ruin her son’s life. Her baby’s life. Her child who she’d likely die for. Her child who she’s proud of.

I feel for all the boys who have this “fear” of getting falsely accused. The only abuse cases that get any media attention ARE the few high profile false accusations. So that’s what they know. That’s what the media has shared with them. Society has taught them to fear getting accused and facing consequences rather than fear hurting another human. They’ve been lied to. And they’ve fallen for it. And I get it. I grew up with the same media. In the same society. The same social culture.

My family and friends don’t know what to say. They don’t know how to help. It’s hard for them to process. It’s hard to comprehend. It’s hard to deal with. It hurts them to see their friend hurting. It hurts them to not know how to help. It hurts them when it’s too much for them to deal with. It’s frustrating for them when I’m frustrated and outside of my window of tolerance. It’s a lot and it’s hard and I get it. I feel guilt for being the reason they feel that way. I feel empathy for what they feel because this is their experience too. I know them. I understand them. I feel for my therapist. I feel for the people in drive thrus who’ve handed me food and seen the tears I couldn’t dry and the puffy red eyes I couldn’t hide during the few seconds they dealt with me. I understand the sympathy and how uncomfortable & awkward that felt for them. I feel for my employers. I feel for everyone who read my story. Their shock. Their curiosity. Their wondering about the details. Their sympathy. Their automatic tendency to victim blame. To wonder how much of it was my fault. Their remembering back to past interactions with me and wondering what I did wrong. Their flashbacks to their own experiences. Their feelings of comparison. Their fear that it could be them. Their wishing they’d known. Their anger. I feel it all and I understand it all. I feel for the officers & law officials who deal with cases like mine every day. I feel for my acquaintances who don’t know how to respond or act around me once they know. I feel for all the people who haven’t told their stories yet. I feel for those going through it without some “big hardship” to help them feel validated. I feel for those who have it worse then me.

I feel for him.

I feel his discomfort with the situation. I understand the fear, the panic, the defensive anger when he was called by the corporal. It was unexpected. They all expect to get away with their actions & choices. I feel for his guilt (if he’s felt any.) I understand the stress of when you’re being called out, when you’re caught. We all understand that, we’ve all felt that and it sucks. I understand his relief when NOTHING came of him giving his statement because the system is set up to protect him instead of me. I understand his feelings of being validated that he did nothing wrong because there haven’t been consequences- I get that he needs that validation to cope.