Sometimes life straight-up sucks. There are probably a million more elegant ways to say that, but it all means the same thing: Stuff gets hard. When you're older, it seems like it's to be expected. People nod when you tell them what you're going through, they share stories of that one time that their kid/dog/lawyer/car did exactly the same thing you're describing (even if it's nowhere near close). It's like after the age of forty, personal tragedy isn't quite as tragic. I'm 18, so I can't really speak to the truth of any of that, but from what I've observed, people are less likely to treat you like a charity case.
It's different when you're younger. If you so much as whisper the word "abuse," you become a delicate little flower. People cry for you. They compliment you on random stuff that doesn't really matter. They admire you for being so strong and courageous, like you have some kind of choice. You go from being a normal kid to being a glass doll in no time flat. People you've known all your life suddenly treat you like some kind of hero. Acquaintances that you've hardly even discussed the weather with try to get you to "talk about your feelings," like you've been best friends for years. It feels like you have to put on a show and give people what they want, or they'll be disappointed with you. People seem to expect you to cry, pour your heart out, or at least ask them for a tissue.
Or they go the other direction, acting lik the sun is shining out of their butts, avoiding asking personal questions, making you feel like whatever happened to you was a shame to be swept under the rug. I still don't know how to handle those people.
I guess my point here is this: If you know someone is hurting, don't be afraid to treat them just as you did before. They are still the same person. They need reassurance that their tragedy does not define them. Most victims of abuse will spend their whole lives trying to sperate their personal identity from what happened to them-- when you treat them like a ticking time bomb, it solidifies their idea that they are the abuse. These things generally go on for a long time; it isn't more or less real to them now that you happen to know about it. They are quite literally the same person they were before you knew.
If they want to talk, let them talk. If they want to sit and be quiet, let them do that. If they want to act like nothing's wrong, give them the courtesy of acting like nothing is. And for goodness' sake, if you weren't close friends before the incident, don't act like you are. You may mean well, but it comes across as fake and empty. A smile will do, so will a simple, "I like your shirt."If all else fails, "I'm praying for you," is always appropriate.
After a particularly rough month, my best friends were the people that would just sit next to me when I did homework, laugh at my jokes, and treat me like the human I was before. They never asked me if I was "okay" because they knew I wasn't. They asked me how I was doing. I remember one particular incident waiting for class to start. One of my best friends asked me how I was doing. "Fine," I said. She looked at me, straight in the eyes, and said, "I know you're not." "Yeah," I said. Then we both started to laugh. That was one of the brightest spots I remember from the last year.
I don't mean to sound ungrateful by any means-- there are so many people that have helped me and my family more than I could ever express. Countless times, I've been offered a shoulder to cry on, a hug, or a kind word precisely when I needed it the most. Being loving and supportive is good. Being sensitive to others is wonderful. Just make sure you're doing in a way that makes the other person feel comfortable.
x,
m
I love you.
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