Self-Psychoanalytical Crapola

It’s really difficult for me to realize how out of control I am while I’m out of control. Once I regain control and have settled down a bit, it becomes very apparent, even scary.

This is more on my battle with controlling my weight. I have had some very encouraging, long awaited success in this area over the last month. I even started another blog, Fine Tuning, without letting most of you know, to document my progress. I feel so much better and better about myself, partly because I’m losing weight, but mostly because I feel like I’m regaining some control over this part of my life.

I think lots of people are emotional eaters. I know I tend to eat to distract myself from other things that really probably should have my attention. I eat when I feel like there’s nothing I can do about a situation. I eat socially to lift my spirits. I eat brownies and the like for comfort. I love good food, but it’s more than that. Food makes me feel better and just like anything else we use to make ourselves feel better, it can get out of control.

When my trainer first suggested limiting my calories to 1500 a day I told her she was crazy. I’d starve to death. I didn’t even try it. I just decided that there was no way I could do that and that I’d have to find another way to lose weight. I started working out without changing what I was eating, to no avail. Since October 9^th I’ve been counting calories on The Daily Plate and not really working out at all. I want to work out, but I’ve been crazy busy since I picked up the second job teaching. I’ve lost 5.6 pounds so far.

I’m realizing how totally out of control I was. I had no will power and quite frankly I didn’t even want it. I wanted to eat to comfort myself, so I didn’t really want to have the ability to resist what I was using to make myself feel better. Now that I can look at food I’d love to eat and make a rational assessment of whether or not it’s a good idea, I feel accomplished. I feel like the pendulum is starting to settle in the middle. I’ll explain.

I gained a lot of weight in my marriage, about 50 pounds over 6.5 years. I gained and lost in that period, but when I left I was just about 50 pounds heavier than when I married. Since I left I gained another 22 pounds, in 18 months. This just occurred to me this very moment. I’ve really been using food to cope with this whole separation/divorce thing without really realizing it. After I reached a certain weight, I just stopped paying attention. I chose to be in denial because I didn’t want to realize what I was doing.

So, the pendulum. A pendulum swings from one extreme to the other and then settles in the middle. While I feel like leaving my marriage and making some choices about healing some relationships while letting others go has been taking control over important areas of my life, the pendulum had swung to the other extreme with regards to how I’m coping with the stress of this divorce. I feel like it’s settling a bit now. I’m acknowledging how stressed I am and doing things to help with that, and I feel like now I can stop depending on food to help with this. I hate these self-psychoanalytical posts, but it helps me see myself better.

Are there still areas of my life I am not happy about? Yep. Are there still things I’m doing to avoid some emotions or fears that may be lurking just beneath the surface? Almost certainly. Are there areas in my life where I’m just wildin’ out because I can? Yep. Is that a reactionary symptom to all of the constraints on the other end of the pendulum (read: the church)? Yep.

And I know this, man!

Penance

To everyone I have ever interrupted, loud talked or talked over…

To everyone to whom I’ve ever come off as if I absolutely know it all…

To everyone whose conversations I have butted into uninvited…

To everyone upon whom I’ve tried to impose my whack-ass views as if they were truth…

To everyone who has considered me an absolute annoying ass for any other reason…

I am so incredibly sorry.

Please forgive me. Tell me how many "Hail Mary’s" and "Our Father’s" I must say to absolve myself. How much chicken blood must I drink? How many candles must I light? Poor people must I feed?

Tell me. I’ll do it. I’ll do anything to be delivered of the HELL I am enduring in my office with this new attorney.

If this is Karma, reaping what I’ve sown, divine punishment of some other kind, please let me know what I must do to FIX IT so that the retribution ends!

Please!!!

Finally Got Some Sleep

Ah. I haven't been able to post all week. That's just not like me. This week has been a shock to my system. I usually work from 10-6, but this week I've had early morning meetings, usually requiring me to leave the house before 7:30, and my whole schedule is thrown off.

I'm a night owl, so it's really hard for me to go to sleep before Letterman. (Funny, I don't even watch him that much, but it kinda marks time, ya know?) So, I end up staying awake until 12 or 1 and needing to be up by 6:45 at the latest. I am NOT one of those people who can function on 5 or 6 hours of sleep, not anymore. I need a full 8 and 10 is even better!

I got a good night's sleep last night 11:30-9am. I'm set for my day.

Tell me about you? Are you a morning person? A night owl? How much sleep do you need at night? (and, include your age, because that makes such a difference, I'm convinced.)

More later I hope. Since I'm awake now and can think...

Stress-Free Weekend

Friday at 6pm I declared the weekend my Stress-Free, Non-Crisis, Non-Drama weekend. I vowed that if anyone called me and wanted to talk about any crisis, anything dysfunctional, broken or stressful I would ask them to leave me a voicemail and I'll address it on Monday. Yes, I was at another one of those points where I realized that the stress my work, combined with the stress of my life was becoming a lethal concoction and I needed a big old reprieve. I got it.

I called a friend after work Friday, and I could tell by her tone that this was gearing to be one of those conversations. I informed her of the reprieve before she got started. She understands my need for a break, but I could hear the underlying pout. Oh well? There's always Monday. Isn't it funny how if you neglect someone's "crisis" for a couple of days, when you come back to it they seem to realize how non-crisis it really was?

So, you wanna know how badly I needed this break? I had my massage appointment Saturday at noon. The massage therapist was, well...Moses (so much for my burning hunk of love rubbing me down), but he was great. His name is Tom. His specialty is intense massage to correct problem areas. He used a method called myofascial release. Since I identified my neck and shoulders as a problem area, this is what we focused on in this session. So, no, not the relaxing soothing, I'm gonna fall asleep massage I was expecting, but good in a different way.

First of all, Tom politely informed me that he has rarely had the opportunity to work on anyone with as much tension as I have in my neck and shoulders. Super!! I'm a special case stress bag. He worked on my neck and shoulders for about 45 minutes of the hour and after all of that stretching and pressure, the muscles in the right side released, but those buggers on the left side, that's causing all the problems and the headaches, wouldn't let go. He suggested that often this type of tension is emotional, but the good thing is that I'm young and trying to learn how to release this stuff now. Let me tell you, if I didn't realize anything else from this session, I surely get how stress will kill you. It sets up shop in your body and does a number on it. I'm more committed than ever to reducing the stress in my life and taking care of my body.

He also asked me if I dragged one foot when I walked. I hadn't really thought about it, but when he mentioned it, I recalled that I always get "flip-flop drag" on the right side, not the left. Well, that's because my right hip is 2 whole inches lower than the left!!! Again, it's muscular as well, tension on the left side. That's where ex used to sleep. I wonder if that's what this left side deal is all about? Anyway, we'll start working on that in the next session and spend some time trying to get this left shoulder to release. I felt great afterwards and I swear my shoulders are at least 2 inches further from my ears than they were that morning.

It was such a beautiful fall day in MD yesterday that I decided I wanted to be outside. There's a trail near my house that is 4.5 miles to this lake in a neighboring town. Last Saturday I walked to the lake with a friend and then his wife came to pick us up on the other end. Yesterday I went with my sister-in-law and we walked back as well. Yep. 9 miles yesterday. I feel it today, but it's not too bad. It helped me decompress some more and it was so beautiful and crisp outside. This jump-stared my fitness program big time. LOL.

The rest of my day yesterday, after a loooooong hot shower, was spent in my most favorite way: in my apartment naked. Doesn't get much better than that. And yes, I did buy more baby oil gel, so I'm smooth again too.

I slept until noon today. A couple of trips to the bathroom assured me that yes, indeed, I hiked 9 miles yesterday. I used the excuse that sleep helps muscles repair themselves to stay in the bed longer. It was glorious.

Not yet sure what today holds. It's another glorious, beautiful crisp autumn day. I should probably take my warm clothes out of the storage closet.

Methinks Operation Stress-Free Weekend has been a success!!

...But I'm Soft!!!

I don't want to take a shower today. No, I'm not reverting to when I was 9 and would just sit on the side of the tub and make swishy noises like I was bathing. I have a dilemma.

I like soft, silky skin. And I love steaming hot showers. The two are not compatible, unless I use my silky skin guarantee-er: Johnson and Johnson's Baby Oil Gel (Lavender). After a shower I moisturize my entire body with the gel and THEN dry off. It's the perfect way to stay silky and moisturized all day long.

Well, I'm out!! I've been out for about a week and I've been using alternatives that just aren't as good. I've added liquid baby oil to lotion. Plain lotion just does NOT do it. Ever. I've used my organic almond oil. And even in combination with my non-drying peppermint castille soap, it's not the same.

I didn't shower yesterday either. I just squatted in the tub with the removable shower head and took care of the important places. OK. Ho bath! Call it what you wanna. But my skin is still soft.

I need to go to the store today for more gel. I hate itchy dry skin and it's inevitably what I'll have if I wash this two day build-up of natural oils off of my skin today.

But I smell fine. Really, I do.

Unabridged

This is a long long post, but it's probably the most transparent I've been on this blog. Grab a beer or read the next blog.

I started this blog because it was a place for me to get thoughts out of my head into a place where I can process them, hopefully with other people. A lot was happening and changing in my life and I am still very much sifting my way through the rubble of the life I used to know. I am slowly but surely coming into awareness of me and I feel like much of the past is healing, or that I’m at least making progress toward that end.

I have written about random pieces of that process, but I have avoided, in different ways (sarcasm, cynicism, ambiguity, etc.), much of what I’ve been trying to work on, what I am working on, and what I yet continue to avoid. I am often worried that since many people who know me read this, I should not say what is really on my mind. I can’t continue to live my life (or blog) based on others’ opinions of me. So, here’s more of a peek into my world:

I realized that my marriage was coming to an end in February of 2003. On Valentine’s Day morning (around 6:30am), my husband walked into our house with no explanation of why he hadn’t come home the night before. He was annoyed by my questions about his whereabouts. He showered, got dressed and left again to run his errands for the day. I knew it needed to end. This had been going on for far too long: the lies, the unexplained absences, the missing money. I kept quiet about it for so many reasons, the biggest of them—his church.

My husband was also my pastor. We had a small, independent, non-denominational church. He started the church 2 years before we married, and once we were married I was ordained as the assistant pastor. This church was his baby. He worked full-time as a truck driver, so for the 1st 2 years of our marriage he was out of town a lot. Much of the responsibility of the church fell on my shoulders. I loved much of what I did. But there came a point when I would lie in bed at night and fantasize about what it would be like to have my life back—what it would be like to not have this church.

We would kick the idea around between the two of us at different points of frustration. Church is a co-dependent's amusement park. There’s always someone to fulfill your need to be needed. We would get overwhelmed at different times, but most of the time I just wanted it to all go away. Besides, I had other problems, my husband’s integrity.

It bothered me that his integrity affected his work at church, but that was secondary to me. First and foremost, he made a vow to me. A vow I knew he was breaking, on so many levels.

I had become, in many respects, quite indispensable in the church. Many congregants remained members, despite their frustrations with him, because of me. This is not self-aggrandizement. That’s not my style. I make this comment purely based on the responses I would get when I would ask people why they continued to come to our church if they had so many problems with him.

I buried my problems in theirs. I threw myself into planning retreats, seminars, bible studies and small groups to address the needs of these people. Inevitably, from time to time, my own misery would leak through my façade, but for the most part, I sacrificed myself and my wellness for everyone else(else’s).

I knew that if I were to leave my marriage a few things would be true:

1. I’d need support.
2. I’d need therapy.
3. The congregation would leave.
4. I’d have to be willing to tell myself the truth, the whole truth about my life up to the very present moment.

It was a difficult journey, but with the help of a handful of great friends, a great therapist and some really hard emotional work and millions and millions of tears I got strong enough to leave. I went back after a week or two.

After more planning, growing, healing and realizing that things weren’t going to change, no matter how much he told me they would, I left for good. I’ve been gone 18 months. I’m hoping the divorce will be final soon.

Between February 2003 and today I’ve had to face some funky stuff about myself and my past. I knew that the day I walked into the therapist’s office was the day I would have to tell myself the truth about being sexually abused as a child, about how that played out in my teen years and my early adult years, about those things in my childhood that factored into that abuse and about how all of these wonderful things led me to deciding to marry when and who I did. I’m an all or nothing kinda gal, so I knew I wasn’t paying for therapy to shuck and jive. It was showtime.

Showtime was painful. It made me angry, really angry, with a lot of people in my life. I have moved past a lot of that anger. I’m over being angry at him. I’m over being angry at my parents. I’m over being angry at my abusers. I’m working on my relationship with my parents. I am willing to be amicable about this divorce and the abusers are where they belong, in the past. But there’s one area that is still painfully raw and incensed—the church and anyone associated with it.

I feel like when I decided to leave I had mixed levels of support. That was to be expected. What I didn’t expect was the degree to which I was still expected to be involved with taking care of the parishioners while my little world was falling apart.
I’ve been criticized harshly by some people I considered to be dear friends for failing them when I decided to leave my marriage. My understanding of their frustration is that they didn’t seem to understand why leaving him meant that I effectively ended my relationship with them as well.

I’ve gone back and forth about feeling guilty about this, but ultimately here’s where I am. I gave them 9 years of my life while I was slowly dying inside. I poured all I had into them, because I didn’t give myself permission to address my own needs. Convinced that that would have been selfish, I bled and almost died. Leaving my marriage and the church was the most loving thing I’d done for myself in my adult life. I feel like I’ve cut myself free of something that was, directly or indirectly, sucking the life blood from me.

Now, that has meant that I’ve missed weddings, baby showers, housewarmings and the like because I just do not want to be reminded of the past. I don’t want to try to find a new context for these friendships, since I have moved beyond the person they knew me as. I don’t want to explain myself. I really don’t want to answer the, “So, where are you going to church now” question; or worse explain why I’m not and why that’s not likely in the near future.

I have maintained a friend or two who stay connected with this group, but I am not there yet. I don’t know if I ever will be.

I can look back over the last 3 years and see so many places I’ve healed and grown. I have hope that my feelings about church (in general) and this church and these people in people will soon find their place in my rearview mirror. But I am so not there yet.

I may have to just send flowers and a card to a dear friend who lost her brother Friday. Before I started writing this, I thought that was selfish of me. If it’s all I can do, it’s all I can do. I’ve done what others thought I should do for too much of my life. I’m sorry I can’t be there. But, if I can’t be there and be present, I shouldn’t be there. I’m done lying to myself.

My New Bedfellow

Meet GOSA FAST, the ergonomic pillow from IKEA. It is my new lover. It held me gently, pefectly cradling my neck as I slept like a baby last night. It was such a contrast with the sleepless, painful night I had the night before.

Who knew the perfect pillow could bring an end to suffering? Everyone needs one. It's the perfect bedfellow, for only $17.99.

I'm wondering if this neck pain is muscular or a pinched nerve. It tends to come back towards the end of the day, when I've been sitting at my computer for hours.

Well, tonight I will again sleep with my new lover. I've found a keeper.

My Book Nook

aka: The Lex Café

This is the most coveted seat in my little apartment. See how bare my walls are? Must fix that. Soon.

My Hap Happiest Season of All

Tomorrow is Friday! The weekend cometh. Yay!!

Weeks seem to fly by these days. October's half gone folks. I feel like I just said this about September. It's going to be the holidays in no time.

I love the holidays. I love cooking and eating with the people you love. I swear, for me, it's one of life's greatest pleasures.

I'm thinking of giving baked goods as gifts again this year. I haven't done it in ages. I would love to shop and find the perfect gift for everyone I love, but who has money for that? I certainly don't. And, since my home and my kitchen are my favorite spots on the planet at the moment, I'm thinking I'll spend some time there. I'll throw all of my love into my tiny delectable creations.

I'll use the book nook in my little apartment to cuddle up and do some recipe searching over the next couple of months. If you've got a preference (and are presumptuous enough to think I'd give you a holiday gift) let me know what you'd like. I'll take requests.

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas...la, la, la, la, la.

Oh shut up! Halloween will be over before you blink.

Doctor, Doctor!

So, today I got a new doctor and I love him. Thanks, Fresh, for the idea.

I made the appointment for the massage. I also called and found a new PCP just next door to work. I thought I’d get another quack since I’m refusing to move out of a 3 mile radius from work, but I lucked out. He actually took my health history, took a urine sample, scheduled blood work, “checked” everything – eyes, arms, legs, neck. He asked about everything under the sun, including my ideas about pharmaceuticals. He wasn’t opposed to my opposition to them. His nurse even did an EKG and a lung function test.

After my very thorough examination, he concluded that my headaches are almost definitely tension headaches brought on my stress. (Stress? Me?) He offered to write me a prescription and when I scrunched up my face he suggested doubling up on my OTC pain relievers when I need them, plenty of water and exercise to relieve some of the stress.

He asked me about smoking and drinking. He’s Nigerian, so I didn’t understand when he asked me if I just drink wine or if I drink the hard stuff. When I was clear on what he was asking I laughed and said, “Let’s just say I like variety.” He laughed and didn’t look at me like I was crazy. Now, he does have a severe stuttering problem an he has a hard time making eye contact, but I like him over all.

We went back to his office to discuss my weight. He has a weight loss clinic, so I had asked about it. He shared his philosophy of using pharmaceuticals to get chronic cases under control quickly. We discussed my weight and where I should be ideally. Asked me about my eating habits and helped me commit to small changes (less carbs, more fruits and veggies and lots of water before and after meals). He encouraged more consistency with my exercise regimen and said to let him know how I’m doing in a month. If there’s no change with these changes, then he’ll start talking to me about other options.

When we were done he asked if I had anything else I wanted to discuss with him, any other concerns. I told him no. He reviewed my EKG, lung function test and urinalysis with me. Said they were all fine. We’d get the blood work done on Thursday.

Now, THAT’s what health insurance buys!!

My Visit to the Doctor

I am really beginning to lose confidence in western medicine. I just got back from the doctor’s office and I’ve concluded that one of two things must be true. Either doctors routinely take shots in the dark when it comes down to figuring out what the hell is wrong with you and then try to steer you in the direction of the pharmaceuticals that are being peddled by the reps that just left the office in suits, in order to secure whatever perks are offered for prescribing their product, or poor people get the worst of the worst doctors, period.

I’ve had this new health insurance for about a year now. I’ve only seen my gyn. Didn’t have a need for the primary until today. I woke up with what I’m sure is good old fashioned pink eye, and since I spent the better part of last night wondering why this headache I’ve had for 3 weeks (since I was sick that time) has not really gone away, I thought maybe today was the day to go to the doctor. I picked this PCP for one reason and one reason only. I can walk out of my door from work, walk 15 steps and walk into the doctor’s office. Let me suggest, this is NOT the way to pick a physician.

It turns out that I’ve picked a walk-in clinic as my primary. There were a million people in the office by 10:00am, screaming babies, adults, elderly individuals. I swear I even saw a parrot in a cage waiting to be seen. OK, maybe not, but still, you can imagine the scene. Every last patient, besides me, was speaking Spanish to the Spanish-speaking staff. I have never in my life seen people dish out such large sums of cash at a doctor’s office before, so I’m assuming many of these patients didn’t have health insurance.

The chatter in the waiting room (since I do speak Spanish) was about the routinely infinite wait at the office and about how although patients start lining up at 10, the doctor doesn’t come in until 1pm; about how referrals are processed too slowly and someone could die waiting to be seen by a specialist, etc.

I left after I signed in and came back to the office. I told the medical assistant to call me when they got close to my name on the list. I felt like I was taking advantage of some kind of privilege by doing this, but I did it anyway, because I would have gone crazy waiting until 2:30 (when I was finally seen) in that zoo.

When I finally saw the doctor, I couldn’t understand half of what she said. Her accent did not suggest that she was Latina at all, though. Rather, she pronounced her w’s like v’s and such. After I told her about my eye and my headaches she shrugged her shoulders a few times and said:

Doc: I don’t know. Could be anything. Do you take pain medicine?

Me: Yes, Motrin.

Doc: Does pain go a-vay?

Me: Yes, but it always comes back and it’s unusual for me to have headaches.

Doc: Any history of migraine?

Me: Yes. I had migraines when I was 12 to about 15. I’ve never had one since.

Doc: But these are not the same, huh?

Me: No. These start in this one spot (indicate location) in the back of my neck and goes up along the left side of my head. It’s always the same. Always in the same spot and it hasn’t gone away for any significant period of time in three weeks.

Doc: Any congestion? Any (motions pen from nose down the side of her neck)?

Me: (Guessing she is pantomiming post-nasal drip) No. No post-nasal drip.

Doc: Could be neurological. Could be muscular…tension. Could be anyshing. Vat would you like?

Me: What would I like?

Doc: Do you vant referral? Do you vant pain meds or anti-inflammatories? I can vrite prescription for something time released. Ven you take Motrin does it go avay?

Me: Yes, but it comes back.

Doc: So, it’s steady?

Me: Yes.

Doc: Vell, it’s really up to you. Vat do you want me to do?

Me: If pain killers are the only answer, I can keep doing what I’ve been doing. I have a family history of brain tumors. I have no idea if that’s hereditary and basically I just want to know if I should be concerned about these headaches or should I make an appointment for a 60-minute massage/reflexology session?

Doc: There are so many kinds of brain tumor. I see vy you are concerned? I can make a referral to a neurologist.

Me: Is there any reason to think I need to see a neurologist?

Doc: You can have MRI or CAT scan. You might as well see what’s going on. Most neurological problems come from inflammation. We can treat inflammation. But could be anyshing.

Well, I ended up with a prescription for eye drops, a blood work order and a referral to a neurologist.

I filled the prescription for the eye drops and I think I’m about to make an appointment for that massage.

No one asked me about my medical history although this was my first time at this doctor’s office. No one weighed me or took my blood pressure or temperature. No one asked me about family history. I brought that up myself. She didn’t ask about allergies or problems with sinuses. There were no forms that asked for this information. And I’m off to have my head irradiated?

I take pharmaceuticals as an absolute last resort. This headache has kicked my butt to the point of taking about 6 doses of Motrin in the past 3 weeks. This experience today bothers me a bit.

What do you guys think? Massage/Reflexology or MRI?

Tagged Again: The Book Meme

~Macarena~ tagged me to do The Book Meme. I wanted to ignore her, but since I'd seen it elsewhere before and already started my answers, I've complied.

I'm really looking for new stuff to read...so prepare to be tagged!

1. ONE BOOK THAT CHANGED YOUR LIFE?

Too Be Told, Dan Allender

2. ONE BOOK YOU HAVE READ MORE THAN ONCE?

MacBeth, William Shakespeare

3. ONE BOOK YOU WOULD WANT ON A DESERT ISLAND?

The Oxford Anthology of English Literature The whole shebang, not just Volume 2...That's just the only pic that looks like the one on my bookshelf.

4. ONE BOOK THAT MADE YOU LAUGH?

Dirty Girls Social Club by Alisa Valdes-Rodriguez.

I think this was the first time I laughed out loud in public while reading. I was in the airport waiting for my flight, doubled over laughing and crying. Now, I must say that when I leaned over and read what I was laughing at to the ex, he wasn't as amused. But you can't go by him.

5. ONE BOOK THAT MADE YOU CRY?

The Wounded Heart, Dan Allender

6. ONE BOOK YOU WISH YOU HAD WRITTEN?

Longing to Tell: Black Women Talk about Sexuality and Intimacy, Tricia Rose

I wish I could have experienced collecting all of these stories. I would have loved to meet these women and have the privilege of connecting with them in this area that we so rarely speak candidly about, especially in our communities.

7. ONE BOOK YOU WISH HAD NEVER BEEN WRITTEN?

All the pink books in Christian bookstores.

8. ONE BOOK YOU ARE CURRENTLY READING?

Letter to a Christian Nation, Sam Harris

9. ONE BOOK YOU HAVE BEEN MEANING TO READ?

The Notebook, Nicholas Sparks

10. ONE BOOK YOU'RE GLAD YOU OWN?

The Complete Idiot's Guide to Tantric Sex, Dr. Judith Kuriansky

11. ONE MUST READ ALOUD?

Fox in Socks, Dr. Seuss - Do it now!


Now my victims: Katrice, Kwesi, KMF, Freshairlover, Heartinsanfracisco, Andy

And I hereby give my solem oath that I shall never tag you twice!!

Everyone else is tagged by association. Feel free to just give any responses you'd like in my comments.

A Needed Change of Pace

Jali got me started:



I SO used to have that sweatshirt!!!!




I know entirely too much of this by heart!!



That one too!!

I just don't understand...

My heart is so heavy tonight. I ache.

I keep asking myself why, how, why is there so much hate on this planet for women?

What on earth makes someone think that it's ok to rape women with hot curling irons? Kill the rape victim in the name of honor, while the rapist goes free? Express military prowess by raping the women and girls of the defeated opponent? Stalk an ex and pick up the phone to advise the police that you're about to kill her, just before you kill yourself? Cleanse yourself of HIV by raping 7 virgins? I mean, really, if you even really believed that would work, why would you do it?

What makes someone believe that women are so worthless? So disposable? So insignificant?

Why is it that all the spiritual texts of the world's major religions are used over and over to justify such hatred? Such mistreatment? And disrespect?

What could 6 little girls possibly have done, or possibly represent, that their molestation and murder could provide someone relief? Revenge?

How is it possible that there are women who support and defend misogynists? Who succumb? Who bow down? Who submit? Who encourage and browbeat others to conform?

How is it possible that women lash out at the other woman, when it was the man who owes loyalty?

I'm really bothered by the Amish man who stood by the body of the dead 13 year old girl and taught the boys around him to not think evil towards the man who did this, but to forgive? I'm sorry, but, for me, there is so much that needs to come before forgiveness. Honor her life for God's sake. Be angry. Acknowledge the evil. Value her life.

If we're not supposed to be irrate about what happened in Paradise, Pennsylvania, what on earth is supposed to make us angry?

I feel so strongly that if we women don't love and care for one another, no one will. We can't afford to hate each other, fight each other, tear down each other. Our girls can't afford to see us divided.

I'm planning to attend Sheryl Lee Ralph's one-woman play that deals with the number of Black women dying from HIV. So many despite the fact that they are in monogamous, heterosexual relationships and marriages...or so they think. Tell me what makes it ok that the fact that you haven't come to terms with your sexuality gives you the right to lie, cheat and expose your wife to the rotten fruit of your high-risk behavior? What makes us so insignificant that the risk to us is not considered?

I ache tonight. I ache for women everywhere. I don't understand.

On My Soapbox

The cynic in me finds the following quote absolutely hilarious: "Mark Foley wants you to know he is a gay man."

I laugh, not because former Rep. Foley is gay, but because in light of all that has happened in the last week with regard to heinous sexual assaults on young girls, followed by murders, one of our elected officals who is caught having internet sex with pages and grooming others for future who-knows-what offers in his defense? that, "I don't even like girls!" Give me a fucking break!

Let's see if we can connect some dots here:

Mark Foley:

• molested by clergy, ages 13-15
  
• has internet sex with teenaged pages
• sends inappropriate emails to others, arguably grooming them for the future
  

Duane Morrison:

• suicide note alleges he was molested
• sexually molested all six girls before killing one and killing himself

Charles Carl Roberts IV:

• molested children 20 years ago
• dreaming of doing it again
• brought KY Jelly lubricant with him to the school where he kills 5 young girls

You would really have to live under a rock this week to deny the horrid, disgusting fact that sexual assault happens every single day, in every single town, in every single corner of the globe. You would really have to be moron to deny that children are the most vulnerable and therefore the most likely to be sexually assaulted.

Here are some facts:

FACT: Most sexual assaults go unreported. (RAINN)

I am glad that these stories in the news bring publicity to this issue, but I work with survivors every single day who because of shame, fear, mistreatment by authorities, disbelief of loved ones and a hundred other reasons choose not to report their victimization to the police. If they don't report, they aren't counted. I am a survivor. I am not included in the statistics. Not any of my assaults.

FACT: Among female rape victims, 61% are under 18.
American Academy of Pediatrics, Committee on Adolescence. "Sexual Assault and the Adolescent." Pediatrics. 94 (5) 1994.

FACT: Most victims are sexually assaulted by someone they know.

MYTH: "We live in a beautiful, safe neighborhood. None of these children could be victims of sexual abuse, right?"

It is highly likely that you know a child who has been or is being abused.

• Experts estimate that 1 in 4 girls and 1 in 6 boys are sexually abused before their 18th birthdays. This means that in any classroom or neighborhood full of children, there are children who are silently bearing the burden of sexual abuse.
• 1 in 5 children are sexually solicited while on the Internet.
• Nearly 70% of all reported sexual assaults (including assaults on adults) occur to children ages 17 and under.
• The median age for reported sexual abuse is 9 years old.
• Approximately 20% of the victims of sexual abuse are under age eight.
• 50% of all victims of forcible sodomy, sexual assault with an object, and forcible fondling are under age twelve.
• Most child victims never report the abuse.
• Sexually abused children who keep it a secret or who "tell" and are not believed are at greater risk than the general population for psychological, emotional, social, and physical problems, often lasting into adulthood.

It is also likely that you know an abuser. The greatest risk to children doesn't come from strangers but from friends and family.

• 30-40% of children are abused by family members.
• As many as 60% are abused by people the family trusts- abusers frequently try to form a trusting relationship with parents.
• Nearly 40% are abused by older or larger children.
• People who abuse children look and act just like every one else. In fact, they often go out of their way to appear trustworthy to gain access to children.
• Those who sexually abuse children are drawn to settings where they can gain easy access to children, such as sports leagues, faith centers, clubs, and schools.

“It can't happen in my family. I could tell if someone I know is an abuser.”

Yet in more than 90% of sexual abuse cases the child and the child's family know and trust the abuser.

Consequences to children and to our society begin immediately. Child sexual abuse is a direct source of a number of problems facing us.

• Consequences to children and to our society begin immediately. Child sexual abuse is a direct source of a number of problems facing us.
• 70-80% of sexual abuse survivors report excessive drug and alcohol use.
• One study showed that among male survivors, 50% have suicidal thoughts and more than 20% attempt suicide.
• Young girls who are sexually abused are more likely to develop eating disorders as adolescents.
• More than 60% of teen first pregnancies are preceded by experiences of molestation, rape or attempted rape. The average age of the offenders is 27 years old.
• Approximately 40% of sex offenders report sexual abuse as children.
• Both males and females who have been sexually abused are more likely to engage in prostitution.
• Approximately 70% of sexual offenders of children have between 1 and 9 victims; 20-25% have 10 to 40 victims.
• Serial child molesters may have as many as 400 victims in their lifetimes.

(Darkness to Light)

Now, I challenge you to compare the facts with the statements in the media regarding these 3 offenders. In my opinion the community has a role in this. We have a resposibility to protect kids because, so often, this is where the abuse starts. But we have a larger responsibilty.

We have the responsibility to take our heads out of the sand and look at what is happening around us. We have to allow people to tell their stories. All people. Even men and boys. When we silence them by turning their victimization into an issue of whether they are gay or not, we drive their pain underground where it festers, and worse.

I am so angry about this Foley mess for so many reasons, but nothing burns me more than him appealing to his sexuality as somehow a defense for his actions. It clouds the waters, I think intentionally, and it attempts to somehow put pedophilia, rape, and sexual assault in the same category as sexuality. One's sexuality is not a crime. These other behaviors are.

Guess what Foley? Perpetrators are gay and straight and anywhere in between. That has no bearing on who they assault. But somehow, I think you already know that.
My heart aches for the families of the girls who lost their lives in the past week:

Naomi Rose Eversole, 7

Marian Fisher, 13

Lina Miller, 7

Mary Liz Miller, 8

Anna Mae Stoltzfus, 12

Emily Keyes, 16,

And for the unnamed victims whose lives have forever been changed by the hand of evil.

We need to wake up!

Say it Ain't So!!!

Do you know what that is? Yes, it's a gray hair. No. It's not mine. My camera is having issues getting such a quality shot of....yes....MY first gray hair!!!

My mom is 63 and has not grayed. WHY am I cursed? Please tell me?

I am not pulling it because I don't want more. And what's worse? It's right in front!!

I'm a little frazzled right now. I'm too young for this...you know....to dye or not to dye.

Sheesh!