This Journey is my Own

Nearly every time I tell someone what I'm studying at the university, a quizzical look crosses their face, and they ask some version of the question, "What do philosophy and botany have to do with each other?"

I could give so many reasons, from the deep to the superficial. But, ultimately, botany gives me greater understanding of the plants that sustain me, and philosophy gives me greater understanding of the mind that makes me. And, lately, some of the journey to coming to an understanding of myself has been uncomfortable at best.

In one philosophy lecture today, we briefly examined the history of Sigmund Freud in relation to neurosis, or what he termed hysteria. He was examining women who were suffering from hysteria, and consistently found a correlation between stories of past sexual trauma and hysteria. He originally hypothesized that the trauma was a cause of the hysteria. But when he began to see the implications of his theory on his culture, namely that a high ratio of men were sexually abusive to women and girls with whom they were acquainted, he recanted his ideas. He hypothesized, instead, that the stories were really just fantasies stemming from the girls' and womens' suppressed desires for such scenarios to be true.

That was a mouthful. What he did, in a nutshell, was deny the reality of his patients' experiences. Instead of affirming the trauma they'd suffered, he turned the victims into the perpetrators, who made up stories in opposition to the society that suppressed their awful fantasies and twisted desires. Please note that I'm not saying there aren't people who do manufacture false memories, for whatever reasons. But these people are a topic for another discussion.

Now, of course, much of psychology has moved on from Freud's theories, either disproving them or expanding upon them to reflect what we now believe to be a more accurate depiction of the human mind and experience. But not everyone is free of his personal terror that the implications of affirming the victim will be too traumatic to endure. I'd venture to say that every day, a victim is silenced by bystanders who'd rather not have to live through the trauma of acknowledging the victim's pain.

It made me realize, too, just how much fortitude it takes for a victim to use his/her voice, even when most of the ears around are deaf. Because, I think, if a victim's mind survives to tell the story in retrospect, they have taken the first step to freedom from being a victim. They have claimed back the reality of their experience, trusting their own affirmation above the fickle affirmation of their peers.

Of course, there are lots of moral implications for bystanders who ignore or deny the trauma of victims. But, for today, I'm content with the realization that this journey really is my own. Mine to learn from. Mine to acknowledge. Mine to live, and mine to share--not necessarily to change the minds of indifferent bystanders, but to maybe, hopefully, affirm someone who needs just a nudge to take a leap of faith in themselves.