Paper Plane Photographs

Subject 1 : Laura M.
October 30, 2019
Though we all have our faults & flaws, our mouths can be the most caustic of someone else’s degradation. I stumbled upon a video that inspired me to finally step up and take the first footing in starting “Scream Her Name,” a photo-therapy project. The theme of the video is one rarely spoken about in a public light: What’s the most painful thing you’ve been told? Let’s air the dirty laundry and break down the walls. Let’s not be strangers, anymore; let’s get to know the most nitty-gritty, roughest and toughest of answers. We have all be hurt but some more than others. Numerous statements have hurt me in inconceivable ways, but there are two instances that changed how I viewed myself and the world.
Inspiration Video URL : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dr10kEq-eu4&feature=youtu.be

Part I :
Disclaimer : Trigger Warning for those bothered by sexual abuse content. ⚠️
With October being National Domestic Violence Awareness Month, I decided to quit holding back on these images that I took in May. I was not sure if I had the courage to hit that little blue “Post” button. Domestic violence is defined as violent or aggressive behavior within the home, typically involving the violent abuse of a spouse or partner. Though the actions may happen to anyone at anytime, at any age, the damage can last a lifetime. Please seek help and guidance if you are a victim of domestic trauma or violence. I wish I had, sooner.

“Prepare your family because I’m going to tell them. I never wanted you, you seduced me. You forced my hand and now everyone will know.”

Gaslighting was the harshest blow his abuse ever served me between the hatred, the pain, the physical and the sexual. It took me roughly five years to stop pretending, to stop running and tell my mother about the events that transpired. After being told every single flaw of my mind, my heart, and my body, I was left feeling empty and dirty and like it was somehow my fault for being too blonde or having too bright of eyes, too fair of skin, too built of legs, too large of breasts, too large a tummy, too flat a butt, to pudgy of cheeks. I was beguiled into thinking that my being sexually abused was my fault and that when he hit me until I coughed blood - I was ugly and impure. The truth is, I was not ashamed of having been sexually abused but rather by the fact that I let that resounding feeling of my abuser blaming me play on repeat. It was a complete loss of dignity and innocence, like a broken flower, dangling by a thread. I spent the following years spiraling in cycles of depression and destructive behavior like it was written in my DNA. I thought that I maybe deserved it. I committed an emotional hate crime against myself but also against my rapist. Forgiveness sets you free, but it took me eight years to learn what freedom was. I thought it meant being away from the situation, I thought it meant starting over, finding someone new, someone that loved me; I forgave him for the horrible things he did to me but not the things he said to me, nor for the way his words impacted me until now. Forgiveness is the hardest part of assault and abuse; learning to forgive is the truest form of holding the power. I forgive you - I may not say it to your face, but I forgive you and I forgive me.

Part II :

“There is nothing physically wrong with you. I am writing down the name of a few specialists; my colleagues and I think you need help with these issues you seem to be experiencing. Your stress level seems to be exasperating a mental illness. Please see a therapist.”

I have every word memorized; it felt like a poorly drawn or misspelled tattoo, plastered across my forehead. Because she branded my records with this notion that I was off my rocker, it was hard to get another physician to take me seriously. Hell, I even started to doubt myself and the physical manifestations of Stage IV Endometriosis + PCOS. I was told like thousands of other women that I just could not handle my own menstration. I was made to feel weak and of lesser value and strength than any man even though I had made it through several rounds of MRSA, P90X routines after rib breaks, and hiking two mountains a year and a half after pelvic fractures. I’ve had root canals where the tooth roots touched jawbone and pneumonia viruses that lasted half a year, but I was considered frail and fragile and needed to man up. I questioned my own sanity and self worth because a doctor inspired the chain of events of continued misdiagnosis. I never told her she was bad at her job. I never told her she made me consider a psych ward or taking my life. I never told her that because she insisted that my weight gain was because I ate poorly and did not exercise enough, I stopped eating for weeks and almost sliced my stomach fat off and considered taking out a loan for liposuction. I never explained that she caused me mental and emotional damage because she either did not feel like spending the effort on me or just did not know enough about women’s health.

Please understand that I do not feel she was a bad doctor or that any of the physicians that followed were : they simply were not the right fit for me and for the very dangerous and painful disease I have. Doctor shaming is as harmful as victim shaming, fat or skinny shaming, sick or well shaming. We often speak without considering how our words may affect or effect another’s way of life. Humans cannot really exist and “leave no trace” because our actions and reactions, even a smile or scowl can impact others profoundly. The more deeply you express yourself in anger or confusion, consternation or hatred, the more blindly you are harming another individual. Be careful with your words. Be kinder. Live softer. Live 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 regrets so that you may be a light for your own path; may your transgressions allow for transformation. You may be entertaining angels and never even know it.

Subject 2 : Abby R.