I'm a survivor, not a victim

A few months back, when I'm sure I was supposed to be doing something other than trawling the Internet, I happened upon a blog/e-shop/meeting-place called Kind Over Matter.
Its run by a great gal called Amanda who shares her life, perspective and global family with the world through kindness, inspiration and love. I get the email updates every few days and love to see what's been happening in her world and that of her contributors.
Today's blog post caught me. Wide eyed, deer in the head lights kind of caught.
Its a post by a woman named Shelly who has let the world know that she is a survivor, not a victim.

While my story of past abuse is no where near the violence that Shelly encountered, its the same emotional, mental and fear-based campaign that I identify with. Its the descriptions she gives of having people turn on her when she spoke up. Of people not believing her, the person that hurts; rather looking at the 'perfect couple' image projected out in public.

It's kind of ironic, because in the last two weeks I've been talking to some newer people in my life journey who got the 'Cliff-notes' version of my past, and I had to define myself. I'm not into the idea of describing myself as a victim. I really don't like that word. But to describe myself as a survivor...I'm not sure how I feel about that. Its not that I don't acknowledge that, its just that in the grand scheme of things I never had to explain away bruises, scrapes and bumps. My scars are internal, some etched over my heart, some on my psyche, and some in more intimate places.

But it is what we are, survivors. We were able to walk away. No matter how painful it was, because ultimately we do believe in the hope that a person's actions will change. To be able to on that day, that clarifying day, that the circumstances will not change, that you do indeed value yourself. That my friends, is what makes a survivor.

photo credit: Dimit®i via photopin cc

A Helping Hand

Yesterday I had the opportunity to give something back to women, globally. A great friend of mine heard about an event that was looking for volunteers to help pack birthing kits to be sent to developing (third world) nations. The event sounded intriguing. Just what would be in a birthing kit anyway?

For those of us who are in the developed world, we would never think that having a large piece of black plastic, a surgical scalpel, gloves, gauze, ligatures (pieces of cotton string) and a piece of soap would be a luxury when giving birth. When we ask after a friends birth it is usually to inquire 'Which drugs did you go for?"

This birthing kit day was hosted by the Brisbane River Zonta Club. Zonta International is a global organisation who share commitment of womens' rights and gender equality for all women - regardless of their global location. The women who join are primarily professional women (or who were in the professional sector) who wish to give something back by strategising and organising awareness of womens' issues, working to advance the status of women, and fundraising to make a difference. Zonta International exists in about 65 countries worldwide and has thousands of women members.

The women who attended the event yesterday cut hundreds of metres of plastic and string, separated numerous boxes of gauze, paired cases of single gloves, dug into buckets of pre-cut soaps and filled approximately 1200 zip lock bags with all of the things that can mean the difference between life and death to a woman and her newborn child. Simple items like soap to wash their hands, string to tie off the umbilical cord, a scalpel to cut the cord and gauze to wipe the nose, mouth and eyes of a newborn are a luxury that thousands of women only dream of. Just having a sheet of plastic to give birth on (and not on a dirt floor) is something these women are thankful for.

It really makes you think about all we have and take for granted.

It sure made an impression on me.