You’re Friends With My Abuser

Content Warning: This piece is a follow up to a piece I wrote and posted more than a year and a half ago (which can be found here) and includes curse words and discussion of psychological and physical abuse of a child.

I, like many people, have been known to repost this graphic on my Instagram story nearly every time I see it resurfacing. But now it just irritates the hell out of me.

On May 26th, 2020, almost two years ago, I published a piece of writing (linked above), in which I discussed publicly for the first time the abuse I endured at the small private school I attended for years. Although I did not share the name of the school or my abuser in my writing, many people who read the piece had enough knowledge to know which school and which teacher I was talking about.

My story surprised a lot of people, including members of the school’s community who knew me well at the time the abuse was unfolding. On one hand, I wish they weren’t surprised. I wish they had seen what was happening- I wish they had seen me. And on the other hand, I when I realized just how undetected everything went, I breathed a huge sigh of relief. The teachers and administrators who I was surrounded with didn’t ignore what was happening- they truly didn’t know.

I got a lot of response from my original post, in the form of texts, emails, and Facebook messages. I even got an apology email from the head of school (who, to his immense credit, was not there when I was a student and offered to sit down and talk with me more about what had happened). I was generally grateful for all the responses I got from my original post. People were horrified, apologetic, and asked what they could do to help. My responses varied from a half hearted thank you to a full conversation about it all, but I really did appreciate all the support.

And then, months ago, I was on Facebook, and a suggested friend popped up. Someone the site thought I might know and might like to connect with, based on our mutual friends. It took me a second to realize who it was. Her last name had changed. Apparently she got married. Her profile picture was her and her (I assumed) husband. They looked happy and carefree. It made me nauseous. Even though the picture didn’t show her face well, I felt like she was staring at me. A painfully familiar feeling washed over me and my entire body tensed up, ready for an attack- ready for her attack. It was Ms. W- my abuser.

My head was spinning. How the fuck could she just be there, living their life, knowing what had happened? Even if she wasn’t happy how in the goddamn world was she just living? Why did she get to be functioning when I barely was? I wondered if she ever thought about me, and the things she did. I wonder this a lot, but I always shove the idea out of my head as quickly as I could. I don’t want her thinking about me.

After the initial shock of seeing her face again wore off, I noticed something- the number of mutual friends we had. It wasn’t a small number. I clicked on the list and read the list of names. Then I read them again. And again. And again. I probably read through that list 20 times or more. These were people there who knew what had happened. They were people who had reached out to me after I originally spoke up, who had said they were sorry and asked if I needed anything and apologized profusely for their role in allowing what had happened to happen. These were people who really genuinely seemed to care. And then I realized based on the number of mutual friends we have, it’s likely I’ve shown up in her suggested friends. It’s likely Facebook has at some point asked her if she wants to be part of my life again, even if it is “just” online. At that thought I remembered that ages after I had left the school, she had LinkedIn requested my mom. I almost laughed thinking about it. What a fucking idiot.

I blocked her, slammed my computer shut a little too hard, and spent the rest of the night laying on my bed listening to music, trying to drown out the noise of my own brain. I told my mom. She was angry for me. I think she also blocked her, but honestly I don’t remember for sure.

Since that day, I’ve committed myself to improving my mental health, and I’ve made huge strides. I don’t have daily panic attacks anymore, and recently I had my first dream that I remembered upon waking up and wasn’t a nightmare, with her face around every turn. I’m doing a lot better now, and I’m learning how to get better still- but the day that I saw her profile on my screen still lingers in the back of my mind.

I wonder now if those people even know they’re friends with both of us. There are certainly people I’m friends with online who I’ve forgotten about, and those that I don’t have the desire to have any kind of relationship with. I don’t think anyone on that list had, or has, any ill intention. But at the same time, reading those names, and seeing just how many people, and which people, maintained a kind of connection to both of us made me so angry. It felt like people were seeing what happened, pretending to do something about it, and then moving on with their lives, having made no change at all, and no real recognition of the harm that was done, and the role they continue to play in that harm. It hurt in a really familiar way. It hurt like I was 11 again. It hurt like all the times I tried to reach out for help and was told it was a miscommunication or simply ignored and sent back to class hurt. It hurt like I never want to feel hurt again.

Having been through many, many sessions of intensive trauma therapy, I now know that the version of my abuser that my teachers, friends, and family knew was vastly different than the version of her I knew. I now know that this can be complicated for some people to work through, but I also now know that creating a world where they are loved and respected by those that surround the victim is crucial to an abuser’s ability to continue to do what they do. Abusers don’t act toxic around everyone, and they are, by nature, master manipulators. Abusers who get away with what they’re doing are more than often able to maintain a charming persona around their non-victims, in order to keep their victim(s) silent. Abusers can be, and more often than not are, well liked, model citizens who are pillars of the local community, show kindness and compassion, and have morals you agree with. All these things can be true, and they can still be abusers.

It doesn’t take much to unfriend an abuser on social media. It takes more to stop defending them, and a little bit more to evaluate and unpack your own perception of them, and understand that their victim lived a very different reality than you did when it came to this person. And it takes even more to, on a broader scale, consider the ways in which you contribute to the numerous injustices in the world, and how you can change your behavior to minimize the harm you cause. And even though these things can be hard, they are absolutely critical if you truly want to support victims of childhood abuse, other kind of abuse, and larger more widespread oppression in the world.

Supporting survivors of any kind of injustice or hardship is often inconvenient, uncomfortable, and sometimes painful. There are situations in which you, as an ally and supporter, have to bear just a fraction of the indescribable pain that others have felt. It sucks, but so did the abuse.

I still have her blocked, so I won’t see if you do it, but please just unfriend her. Please.