What is a Survivor?
What makes someone a survivor? The answer is simple yet complex. There are things they all have in common, but it’s also varied to fit each person. What does the name mean to you?
It’s a word that dictionaries have clear definitions for:
1. A person who survives, especially after an event in which others have died.
2. A person who copes well with difficulties in their lives.
But these answers are not right. Or, they are, but they are just a few of many. Asking the question feels like a setup because of all the possible answers. There are many ways to survive something. Surviving something looks like many things. Being a survivor comes with different definitions, meanings, significances that vary from person to person.
I haven’t thought much about what a survivor is; I’ve just believed myself to be one and recognized many others as fellow survivors. I see them, just as I believe they see me. There’s never been a need to define it, but here I feel it’s appropriate. Not to define it in a this-is-the-be-all-end-all-answer kind of way, but what it means to me, and to every other person reading this. To share different perspectives on the power of that word.
As I’ve said before and will likely say again, none of my physical deaths or struggles have made me feel like a survivor. Some of them do, but it’s not the physical part of them, it’s the emotional and mental aspects during, or more likely those struggles after. So, to me, solely physical survival does not feel as important as emotional, mental and spiritual types. This is not right for me to say is true for others, but it’s what feels true to me.
The decade of abuse and sexual assault I survived created the person I am today. They didn’t change or shape who I am. It killed the person I was born as, and the person I am now was born in its stead.
The person that was feels entirely different, foreign. I see them, and the more time that passes, the longer it’s been since they’ve been gone, the more distant they become. That person began as someone who radically different from who I am now. They loved the spotlight. They were outgoing, very easygoing. They were spontaneous, never needing to know what or when or how or why. They liked physical contact. They were selfish and completely out-of-touch with things. Sheltered, naïve to the point of ignorance. They were soft. Which is probably why they didn’t make it past eight. Because they were too soft.
The person I am now is tough. I don’t believe everything happens for a reason, just that (excuse my language) shit happens. I don’t believe the world is balanced, but I also don’t believe it should be. It’s an unrealistic expectation that is pointless to hold onto. I don’t like being seen; I prefer the background. If I had it my way, I might never leave the house. Being around others is exhausting, even those I love and enjoy most. I hate physical contact. I need to always be in control of myself. I have no interest in controlling others. In some ways, it’s hard to give advice and when I do, I always say, repeatedly, that “that’s just me.” Because I don’t want to influence. Because after having someone else control me, I never want to, even unintentionally, control someone else. But I need to know where I will be, when, for how long, how to get out, contingency plans and safe words. I need a schedule. I need a plan. Always. I’d drive that person who used to be batty, and the person I am now, sees the good in that former self, but less good because they also see weakness. If that person was too soft, the person I am now is probably a little too hard.
These are the two things that make me feel worthy of the “survivor mantle.” These were the things that hurt the worst. The most damaging and yet the most transformative. And are the things that will always impact me, day to day, forever, even though I’ve moved past them. Even though I not only survived them but went on to live despite them.
To me, a survivor is someone who got past something hard. More importantly, it’s always had the fine print of “and will always get through it because it never fully leaves.” To me they are someone who got through something that should have broken them. There are so many somethings and so many ways to survive, but it’s the last thing, which is the most important that they all have in common.
A survivor is not just someone who has survived something, but who goes on to live after. Surviving and living are different. They look different, feel different, and carry different potentials. The act of surviving will never be as sweet or rewarding as the act of living. And I don’t mean being high-functioning or successful, or appearing to have a full and meaningful life; I mean feeling it at your core.
So, as I ramble and process within this post, trying to get my thoughts out on the page, not having a clear destination when I began, so this is more like a stream-of-consciousness piece, I’ve arrived at my definition:
A survivor is someone who survives something that feels un-survivable, and who goes on to live, really live, once they have. They are resilient, adaptable, a realist, and gain/gather strength when faced with adversity. They are relentless. They are formidable, someone to fear if you’re something that means harm.
But enough about me, and what I think. I want to know what being a survivor means to you. Let’s talk about that.
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