Grief, Rage, and Queer Survivors
A real conversation about what happens after harm, and what doesn't always get named
Harm doesn’t always end when the relationship does. Sometimes it lingers. Sometimes it reshapes how you think, how you feel, how you remember yourself.
For queer and trans people, what comes after harm is often a mess of feelings that don’t fit the usual stories: grief for what could have been, rage that still lives in your chest, shame that isn’t yours but feels hard to put down, longing that catches you off guard. These things don’t go away just because you’re out of danger.
This page isn’t about fixing any of that. It’s about sitting in the middle of it without flinching. It’s about saying: if this is where you are, you’re not broken. You’re right on time.
The Kind of Grief That Doesn’t Get Talked About
Grief after harm doesn’t always make sense to other people. It doesn’t always make sense to you either.
You might miss them. Or you might miss what you thought you were building together. You might grieve the version of you that once felt safe with them, the future you imagined, or the rituals you shared that made it feel real.
Sometimes you’re grieving how small you had to become to keep it going. The silence you had to maintain. The self you slowly stepped away from without realising.
That grief is valid. Even if they hurt you. Even if you left. Even if you don’t want them back. Grieving is not weakness—it’s truth catching up.
Rage That Doesn’t Always Have a Place
Rage is honest. It shows you where your boundaries were crossed. It tells you something mattered.
But it can be hard to hold. Especially in queer circles where we’re expected to be understanding, patient, above it all. Especially when you’ve been told your anger makes you unsafe or unreliable.
You might be angry at the person who hurt you. At the friends who stayed close to them. At yourself, even if that’s unfair. You might not even know where to put it.
You don’t have to turn your rage into a manifesto. But you don’t have to swallow it either. Let it exist. Let it move through. It’s not a failure to feel it. It’s a way forward.
Shame That Isn’t Actually Yours
Shame has a way of creeping in, even when you know better. It shows up in quiet ways—second-guessing your memories, apologising too often, wondering if you made it all up.
Maybe you stayed longer than you thought you should have. Maybe you loved them. Maybe you fought back. Maybe you still aren’t sure if it counts.
Shame wants you to carry the weight of someone else’s choices. But that’s not yours to hold. You did what you needed to survive. You don’t need to justify it.
There’s nothing shameful about surviving in the ways you knew how.
Longing That Doesn’t Make Sense
Maybe you still miss them. Maybe you don’t, but something still aches.
You might miss being understood, the feeling of home, or how things felt at the start. You might wish you could talk to them. Or that they’d show up and take responsibility. Or that it had all gone differently.
You can know it was harmful and still want to reach out. You can feel relief and still feel grief. You can want them to be okay and still want nothing to do with them.
This doesn’t make you confused. It makes you human.
You Don’t Have to Be Over It to Be Okay
Healing isn’t a straight line. It doesn’t always end in forgiveness or clarity or closure. It doesn’t mean never thinking about them again.
Maybe it looks like sleeping through the night more often. Like noticing a red flag sooner. Like saying no with less guilt. Like letting yourself cry without thinking it’s a setback.
You don’t have to be done grieving to be moving forward. You don’t have to feel peaceful to be healing. You’re allowed to still be in it, even while you rebuild.
If You’re Here
If you’re here, it means something in you is still reaching. You haven’t shut down completely. You’re still trying to make meaning of something that didn’t make sense.
You don’t have to have it figured out.
Just remember:
What happened was real
What you feel makes sense
You don’t have to go faster than you can
You’re not alone in this
You’re not too late
You’re not too much
You’re here. And that counts.
If You Want Support
Here are some places you can start:
Rainbow DV Helpline (24/7): 1800 497 212
1800RESPECT: 1800 737 732
QLife (3pm to midnight): 1800 184 527
A queer-affirming therapist or GP
A support worker or peer
A friend who can hear your story without turning it into a lesson
You deserve care, always.