There is something to be said for war films. Every single one of them epically depicts what happens when a soldier gets home from “Work.” Sometimes it’s a love story, other times it’s a nightmare, but when it comes to films, theater productions, and television shows about PSTD, it’s always a fucking soldier.
“No one wants to see women suffering…” And yet millions of women every day around the world suffer because as much as many of you claim, that’s true, very few of you work to put an end to the suffering of the women in your lives.
I’m not talking about those of you doing the work, I am talking about the folks who are hiding, who are living their comfortable lives, without ever stopping to say “Can I help you?” to anyone outside their immediate circle.
We as a society need to do better. I don’t think enough of us understand that even after the traumatic experience is over, the trauma remains. I don’t think we know what that means.
- Nightmares
- Panic Attacks
- Mental health issues we didn’t have until we were traumatized
- Behaviours we didn’t have until someone or something “Broke” us.
I wasn’t sick until I woke up and realized I’d spent my whole life being raped by men who stayed within a five minute radius of me for decades specifically to make sure they could keep me under their control.
I am free now, my war is over, so to speak, I’ve done my time in the trenches and they no longer want to mess with me, but only because there are younger more vulnerable victims out there, and I am now too old.
Because the cops made the choice not to do their jobs, all of my abusers are still out there, scattered across the country now, some in prison, others dead, most very much alive and that makes me angrier than anything else. Even angrier than I am about what they did to me.
Specifically because I won’t be free until each and every one of them is locked up for rape and kidnapping charges, not until every one of them faces me in a courtroom as I remind them that they tried to murder me and failed.
I don’t think the system fails survivors. I think the system is designed to protect abusers, and has been for an eternity. I want to see more female judges in Canada, even though they make up nearly half, I don’t think that’s enough.
I also want to see more female law students, and I want to see more women politicians, I want to see more women making policy that protects women, and prevents or attributes the harm that perpetrators cause, to the perpetrators and not the survivors.
It is 2025 and Canada refuses to acknowledge any organization that works with women who have been affected by domestic violence and gang and cult violence, by refusing to acknowledge this shit happens.
In 2025, the country of Canada came out with a “Study” that says that gangs don’t use fear. I’d beg to differ. Knowing what a gang member is willing to do to one woman will absolutely keep your ass in line when it comes to protecting yourself. I know this because almost all the women I left behind are exactly where I left them.
I’m one of the few who got free, and I had to burn every bridge I’d ever made up to that point to get that way. I have no idea if they will ever come back, and yes, that worries me; it worries every survivor.
The grounding relationships you have when you have finally reached a place of “Freedom” change the game for the future. It’s not just about accepting anyone into your life; it’s about accepting the right people in your life.
I know that when it comes to my friends, I find myself unable to blurt out what’s on my mind, even when sometimes they are talking about themselves; thankfully, they’re all understanding and wonderful about it, but personally, it’s my worst quality.
I know that I need therapy, but not only is this not an expense I can afford at this time, it’s not something I’m willing to do given my last therapist was also one of my many, rapists.
Finding a “Safe space” after complex, deep-seated trauma isn’t easy, but I suggest that you keep looking, keep finding room for yourself to grow outside of trauma, because life on this side is much better.
That being said, I only feel this way because I keep myself as far away from as many triggers as possible, which is a privilege not everyone has access to. This wasn’t – as many of you know – always the case; this freedom is relatively new, and the fear is that I will do something to mess it up or lose it forever.
Sometimes I think we as survivors, put so much pressure on ourselves because we’re worried about what we think, other people expect out of us.
The other day I was talking to my friend and she was telling me about a conversation she had had about me, with another friend, “I love Devon’s soul,” she relayed to me and I smiled. Someone out there loves my soul, and yes, it does matter who, because this is an amazingly kind and loving person who said that.
For the first time in my life, I am wearing dresses without worrying if some creep is going to try and photograph me between the legs, or worse.
For the first time I’m wearing shorts and I am not giving a fuck what anyone in the world has to say about my body. I am being myself, free of judgement, filled with love, enjoying the hell out of my life.
Yeah my war is over…but not until every one of those bastards rots in a prison.
Sending all my love,
Devon J Hall, The Original Loud Mouth Brown Girl
Loud Mouth Brown Girl 