I Won't Stop Talking About It - A Guest Blog Series from Arianna Shanks-Hill

Domestic Violence awareness month is in full swing, and I want to continue my education series with another blog post. I believe these blogs are essential to ending the stigma around domestic violence and inciting compassion for survivors before judgment. So, here’s another question that is probably on the “do not ask” list, also coupled with my personal answer in hopes that we can  avoid having this question asked to other survivors repeatedly.  

It’s been so long since your abuse happened, don’t you think it’s time to stop talking about it? 

I know a lot of people have had thoughts similar to this, and it can be difficult to understand why it’s important for me to continually share my story. 

This question is one I’ll answer in 2 parts, because I think a broad and personal explanation are necessary to fully address this question. 

The first thing I want to address is the part of this question that implies that there is a measurement of time that you are ‘allowed’ to talk about your abuse, and once that length of time has passed you must no longer speak about it. This implication is, I have no doubt, brought upon by abusers trying to silence their victims. Believe it or not, there are many thought processes about domestic violence and its effects that are implemented by abusers to keep them in positions of power over their victims. This is why ending the stigma around domestic violence is so important. 

By creating the idea that you must stop telling your story after a certain amount of time, you push survivors back into silence that they probably fought extremely hard to break. You benefit the abuser by asking survivors to remain silent for the comfort of others, regardless of the length of time since their abuse occurred. 

It’s also important to disclose, for people who may not understand abuse or trauma in general, that intense trauma rewires your brain. There is literal science that shows that people who have endured a severe trauma have different brain structures than those who have not. Trauma changes your thought process and how you react to the world around you. Most of the time, survivors of abuse have their entire lives changed from then on. Not only that, but the amount of PTSD and trauma triggers that exist in everyday life make it nearly impossible to live in the same way that you did before the trauma occurred. I say all of these things because I assume they are not common knowledge. But for me, that’s what my life looks like now. I will never ‘forget’ what was done to me, and my life will never go back to ‘normal’. 

All of this is to say that if you’re tired of hearing about my (or other people’s) abuse, imagine how we feel. We’re tired of living with the effects of someone else’s actions, and we’re tired of the stigma surrounding us when we try to speak about it. 

I guess what I’m really asking for is compassion first, before judgement.

On another note, there is no guideline for healing from abuse. Abuse is and always has been about taking control and power from another person. Because of this, the best way to heal from domestic violence is to find a way to take your power back, in whatever way that looks like for you. For some people, coming forward, speaking out, and even seeking legal action is the most healing process. For others, they may choose not to do any of these things and will feel just as fulfilled. Neither path is more right than the other. 

I guess I’ll let this lead me into the more personal answer to this question: 

For me specifically, it is incredibly healing to be able to share my story. After spending such a long time being terrified of the consequences of telling the truth, it is an indescribable feeling to be able to tell my story, completely unrestricted. The privilege that I have to tell my story and inspire change is not lost on me, and I understand the gravity of the position I have been awarded. 

If we want to get technical, once again focusing on the “so long” comment, I’d like to draw your attention to my personal timeline. In all of my efforts to tell my story, I always include the fact that I was fifteen years old. I think it’s also important to include the fact that I was 17 when the relationship ended. If we want to do some quick math, noting that I’m not even 20 years old, it hasn’t even been 3 years since my relationship ended. If you’d like to get even more technical, we can talk about the fact that I have been continually harassed by my abuser and his friends since I was 17 until this day. If you look hard enough, I’m sure you can find their comments all over my social media. He and his friends are constantly posting about, commenting on, and messaging me in order to make sure I understand that they do not want me to tell the truth. The only real reason this is important to mention is because when we talk about abuse we often assume that it ends when someone has escaped from the relationship. I’m here to tell you that that’s often not the case. If we want to understand and support survivors, we need the whole truth. 

My survival story is the reason I am so passionate about ending domestic violence. My story is what makes me relatable. My story is what helps connect me to the people who need to hear it the most. I wouldn’t be half the advocate that I am if I didn’t know firsthand what abuse looks like, or if I hadn’t seen the hope that exists on the other side of it. It is essential that I and every other survivor has the strength to tell their story so that we create space for those who need to speak up. The stigma around survivors is one of the reasons survivors stay silent. They find it easier to be quiet than to endure the awful treatment that comes with standing up and speaking out. My story helps people in every stage of an abusive situation, from identifying red flags in the very beginning to navigating life afterwards.

One last thought I’ll leave you with is this: when we stop holding people accountable and stop speaking out, abusers win. They get to keep harming others without consequences. So no, I do not ever think it has been “long enough”. It will never be “long enough” that my passion to help others and end domestic violence will cease to exist. I will always be a survivor, and I will always be an advocate. Not because I have to be, or because of something that was done to me; but because I am the girl who refused to be broken. I choose to live my life in a way that uplifts others and inspires change. 

I encourage you to find ways you can do the same. What can others learn from your story? How can you lead others to a brighter future?