I
just got a new tattoo, and I know that throughout my life people will ask for
an explanation to these pain-stricken words: “I’m standing on the mouth of hell and it’s going to swallow me whole. And it’ll choke on me.”
When
people ask this question I know what I will tell them. I’ll say that fighting for justice for
survivors of sex crimes will place me square on the mouth of hell. But I will beat it back. I will stand firm. And hell will choke on me.
And
all of that’s true. But to be honest,
that’s the kosher answer. That’s the one
fit for public consumption.
I know
that I won’t go into the details of the hell I stand on every day, the hell
that is so much more personal. It’s a
hell that I keep hidden from all but a few.
My
hell involves living every day with the knowledge that my limits will be stretched,and beaten down, and broken. Until
there’s nothing left. Whether it’s the
physical pain that I’ve dealt with every fucking day for nearly two years now;
the perpetual desire to lose myself in the nothingness and numbness of
self-injury, depression, and suicide; or the completely hidden parts of myself
that I’m still afraid to show to all but a few.
These
things are my hell. And all of these
things threaten to swallow me every fucking day. And every day I must beat them back. Every day I must force hell to choke on me.
And
I’m not that strong. But I do have
faith. I do know that one day I will
break free.
So
I have these words perpetually etched onto my body.
Because I will stay in this fight.
I will stand firm. And whether
it’s the public battle against sex crime that will consume the rest of my life
or the private wars that threaten me every day, I will triumph. And hell will choke.
