create the mold of a rape victim
*TRIGGER WARNING* the following post contains graphic information about rape and sexual assault, and may trigger a response in some survivors.
to express my anger, frustration, and great sadness that i have in learning of the No Taxpayer Funding for Abortion Act would add fuel to the fire that is currently ablaze with our new congress. i’m not sure that i’m ready to go there yet… so i’m going to go about this post in a different way, and i ask that you bear with me and respect the topic at hand.
i’ve sat with more victims of rape and sexual assault than i can count. i’ve sat with them in emergency rooms, and i’ve sat with them in SARC (sexual assault response center) units. when i was a victim advocate in the state of florida, my job was to provide support, information, and options to the victims i met.
each victim (woman or man) i responded to had an immediate need and an immediate goal.
for one woman, it was to have a rape kit done in order to collect more evidence to continue building a case against her husband who had been raping her for years.
for another woman, it was to sleep on a cot in the locked SARC unit, knowing her stalker and assailant could not get to her for a few hours while she rested.
for one man, it was to have the cocktail of drugs you are given after being raped in the hopes of killing disease, bacteria, STDs, and any possible infection.
for me, my immediate need and goal after being raped 10 years ago, was to obtain the morning after pill and learn what gamma hydroxybutyric acid was.
for another woman, it was to talk. to tell me about her boyfriend, who after having his way with her, bound her hands and feet and let his 2 roommates rape her.
and for another woman, it was to learn what options she had and what her rights were from someone other than a cop… because she had been raped by a cop.
some victims i have come across have been beaten and bloodied, in need of stitches, x-rays, or a cast to stabilize a broken bone. other victims i have come across have been half naked, wrapped in a blanket, face smeared with makeup. and still other victims i have come across look like you and me… and have spoken to me while fully clothed, without visible bruises.
according to this new bill (full text of the bill can be found by clicking the link provided at the beginning of this post)
‘The limitations established in sections 301, 302, 303, and 304 shall not apply to an abortion–
‘(1) if the pregnancy occurred because the pregnant female was the subject of an act of forcible rape or, if a minor, an act of incest; or
‘(2) in the case where the pregnant female suffers from a physical disorder, physical injury, or physical illness that would, as certified by a physician, place the pregnant female in danger of death unless an abortion is performed, including a life-endangering physical condition caused by or arising from the pregnancy itself.
my question to the co-sponsors of this bill is simply this… why take more away from a person who has already had everything taken from them at the hands of an assailant?
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you can sign the petition to oppose this legislation that is trying to redefine rape, by visiting MoveOn.org, keeping in mind that rape is rape.
refresh, relax, recharge, repeat (remember)
do you ever have a moment when you stop and take a look at what your inbox consists of?
what your conversations consists of? look at who is in your life?
think about it for just a moment.
i’ll wait.
go ahead.
open up your inbox, click refresh, then take a look at what is sitting there.
still here?
thanks.
i had a moment last week when i was on the verge of a panic attack. i haven’t had one in a while, weeks even, but last week i had a few and some piggy-backed right onto the next one.
so i needed to reevaluate.
and i did.
what i saw was a pattern of ugly. of hate. of discouragement. of sadness.
the news. headlines. lives. pain. anger.
my inbox, twitter stream, chat conversations had become so crazy depressing that i became consumed with anxiety over what would come next.
so i would refresh my inbox, check my voicemails, etc…
do you ever do that?
things come and go in waves. when things are quiet, they are DEAFENING. and then a week like last week (and let’s be honest, the week before counts as well) will happen and i don’t feel like i can be heard because IT’S ALL SO LOUD.
i can’t speak over anyone else and i certainly cannot stop anyone else from speaking.
so i waited.
but that doesn’t mean my anxiety waited.
i spent nights wondering about people i have come to care for, thinking of stories i have been told in trust, and attempting to know what would happen next.
i couldn’t relax.
i still can’t.
but i’m trying to.
because there is good in this world.
there’s a lot of bad. we all know that.
but there is so much more good.
and sometimes i need to be reminded of that.
(the above pictures were taken by me this weekend while i was in nyc with the love of my life… recharging.)
WOLF IN SHEEP’S CLOTHING
for those of you who read jenn’s post on friday, you are aware of the dire situation that another friend of ours is in. at her request, i am anonymously publishing what you find below.
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I catch glimpses of him, sometimes. The man I married. The man I love.
It’s in those moments that I doubt myself. Maybe he really is who I thought he was. Maybe he can be that person again. Maybe there is hope.
But the truth, the ugly and undeniable truth, is that he is a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
I am the lamb he has been preparing for slaughter.
Separating me from the flock.
Feeding me love and affection laced with strychnine.
Blurring my vision so that I won’t see the beady little wolf eyes watching me as I graze peacefully in the lonely pasture.
But that wolf, with his sharp teeth and matted fur, has gotten careless in his disguise.
I see him. I see what he is.
And what he doesn’t know – what I myself have only just discovered – is that I am no lamb.
I am a Lion.
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Domestic Abuse takes many shapes and forms. It doesn’t have to be physical violence. Isolation, manipulation, control, and psychological intimidation are all forms of abuse.
If you’re a victim of domestic abuse, you’re not alone. There is help.
Please visit Violence Unsilenced or Hot Peach Pages for resources in your area.
to be continued
some 9 + years ago, i found myself on a plane bound for tampa.
my grandmother picked me up at the airport. i was alone.
it was spring break and i was going to spend 7 days at her condo on the beach.
it was only 7 months since i had been raped.
i don’t remember much from that trip. i couldn’t tell you if i even set foot on the beach or not.
what i do remember is a nap.
my grandmother’s condo sits directly on the beach. upon arriving to her sanctuary, i remember dropping my bags in the hallway, walking out to her balcony and laying face down on a lounge chair.
i slept for well over 3 hours. that entire afternoon had been spent in peaceful slumber.
i woke up to the sound of seagulls, watched them with squinted eyes and wondered where the hell i was.
it was the best nap of my life.
still is.
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a year ago, i told my story. to more than just my family and a close friend.
i shared with you all the intimate meaning behind the tattoos that i have… the significance of the color teal.
i shouted it from the roof tops… purging myself.
and i felt incredible. it was a high. i was riding the awesome wave of release. and damn, it felt good.
so last november, i got another.
my story continues to evolve as i continue to evolve as a survivor.
my life continues to evolve as i continue to evolve as a woman.
and while my tattoos share the common thread of rape survivorship, they each stand for something unique… something i choose to honor and remember forever.
because i get easily distracted.
though i’m moving forward, somedays are harder than others.
somedays the steps are miniscule and other days the steps are the length of a mile.
with my 10 year approaching next month, i find myself wanting to propel forward more than ever… carrying with me the good, the bad and the unfortunate.
because all of it… ALL OF IT… is me.
and i want to soar.
a time continuum of distractions
anything that goes through a gradual transition from one condition, to a different condition, without any abrupt changes
that’s the continuum theory.
i don’t entirely understand it myself… but i’m feeling it. and sometimes we feel things that we don’t understand.
a pull to do something. a wall to keep you from doing something.
i feel a lot of things that i don’t have full grasp of.
and that’s ok.
there’s this pendulum swinging and nothing can stop it. i dodge it. i run circles around it. i tempt it to hit me. i cower from it at times.
but it just continues to swing back and forth.
so i make lists.
on paper.
in my head.
all the things that need to be done. all the things that need to be worked on… myself, my marriage, my life…
(((fill in the blank)))
the pendulum keeps swinging.
i get distracted. thinking. over-thinking. over-analyzing. focusing on the little bits of nothing, keeping myself from looking at the big picture, the whole.
it’s so easy for me to get distracted. easy for me to write this post. to not do the stuff… the work.
on myself.
but, i recognize these distractions. i see my patterns. i catch myself dodging the pendulum.
and i don’t want to do that anymore.
i want to refocus.
i want my story to continue… my life to continue.
it happened… almost 10 years ago.
it did.
no distraction can falsify that or keep me from recognizing it.
and i’m ready.
i’ll need some hand-holding here and there. i know that.
but i’m ready to stop distracting myself from myself.
i’m going to keep going… keep transitioning… keep moving.
forward.
because it’s time.
Have a Sip
