Unoriginal

I envy people who can write words on the page that come together like a joyous song telling a story. I can’t do that. I’m not a poet and am limited in my writing capabilities but it doesn’t stop me from desiring to tell a story. In school, I absolutely hated writing. Being told by a writing teacher in sixth grade that my thoughts were unoriginal didn’t help so it was sheer shock that I landed in an honors writing course in college. It was tough—good—but a challenge. I learned quite a bit but have since forgotten more than I think I acquired. It’s true that one must keep in practice as for a number of things. I’m way out of practice. 🙂

 

A couple of years ago I envisioned a tale — more movie-like than anything else. I didn’t see it as a book of words but I started to write about it. I knew where I wanted to end up…I started with the ending and gave more substance as I went along until I got back to the beginning. That project is fueled by a collection of music pieces. I like it because it has a bit of history in it. Like I said, it’s more movie-like. I can see the scenes like they are real and I can almost touch them in my mind. Gives me goosebumps. It’s not finished… 😀 Just like my life – so many unfinished things.

 

Most of my writing has been at command – not for fun or entertainment. We are all different. Some people have their muses and they continue to write as long as they are moved to do so. I say this all because I realized people write from varying perspectives. Some choose to tell a story of what they know. It can be reality based. Some writers can command characters they create to elaborately unite for a theatrical composition. The words come to life with no or little struggle. There is much power in this because not only do you create a story but you are in command of how you want the reader to absorb each scene.

 

I don’t know why but I began to write several weeks ago. Well, that’s not true. I needed an escape. Fantasy is so much more fun than reality. Unlike the previous project, this one starts at a particular place, with certain people/characters. I don’t really have an ending. I’ve enjoyed taking the characters through different situations, adding locations, adding characters, and doing research for certain parts for which I needed more information.

 

I envision the story in my mind and write the words down. Certain parts have to be in a particular place so I write them in and then go back and fill in between the points like drawing a line on a dot-to-dot picture. I only hope that if I publish it, that people will be able to see the picture that I have drawn and maybe it will make just a bit of sense. What is ironic about all of this is that this story today is not far from the story I wrote for my sixth grade teacher that she labeled unoriginal. Hehehe. This is real life. Some things aren’t original and the really good ones can be repeated… Ok, that’s my take on it. 😀

 

Happy Gardening! 🙂

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From the Past to the Future – part 1

When I was a little girl, I was a Brownie, part of the Girl Scouts and when my children were little, they were in Girl Scouts. I became a leader when my girls started school. I began as a troop leader, cookie mom, camp leader, and then went on to train Girl Scout leaders while still remaining a troop leader. I had to do several training sessions each year. It was fun working with girls and leaders, being cookie mom, all of it…I’m just a big child… 🙂

 

The idea behind Scouting is to teach the younger generation skills they need so they can become responsible and dedicated individuals so that they will mature into great leaders in their communities as adults. The organization is service related and it is a time for fun and learning. For me, it was a wonderful opportunity and it was loads of fun filled with lots of hard work.

 

Last week, the leader of the Boy Scouts of America said that it was time to allow gay scoutmasters to serve. I have listened to the outcry about it, how the BSA would go under and how churches will pull funding, etc. I am so angry. This is one of the things that is wrong with America. Something does not go your way and you become vehemently opposed to something so much that you are willing to destroy it. I cannot even use my usual we pronoun though I’m sure everyone who reads my blog does not cater to this idea of destroying the BSA if they allow gay scoutmasters–at least I hope not. The arrogance and hatred fill you so much that you are willing to sacrifice this one good thing to prove your point? No. It’s not right.

 

Shame on you if you feel this way. Out of all of the good that has come about because of Scouting, the only thing you can do is tear it down and destroy it. Shame on you or those who cannot accept people who may be different than you and again, this is only if you feel this way. Scouting and children have been a passion of mine for many years.

AND…

Shame on Franklin Graham for calling for his followers to support his stance against the BSA to the point of closing it down. I am ashamed to the bone. I can’t believe I read those words on his FB page…if you believe that Jesus wanted this, I do believe you are wrong. And to show you how loving Franklin Graham is on FB, this is a quote I copied and pasted and not from the comments but from one of his posts…[I actually could not believe I read this] 

 

“Can you believe these idiots?”

 

Now I ask you, would you read this in the Bible? Does God call his children IDIOTS? Does Jesus refer to people as IDIOTS? What happened to freewill and love and understanding? I will not follow someone who says this and spouts such bigotry and hatred and calls people IDIOTS…and this is clearly not what God called for. This is clearly not love and I am ashamed!

 

I am tired of the hate coming from people. I have been on a roller coaster lately…extremely up one minute and down the next. I was in the grocery store Friday night when I got a notice on FB from a college roommate. It made me chuckle so I texted her and we chatted for a while. It is nice to hear from someone who knows you from years ago and knows how you truly feel—that deep part of your soul.

 

She is a Christian by the way and I knew she supported gay marriage so I asked her how her friends deal with it. She said that some of them don’t. She said that sometimes she posts things and they unfriend her and she gave me examples. In our conversation she told me how she worked with individuals who had been diagnosed with AIDS in the early 1980s. Remember back to that time when we were just finding out about AIDS? There was so much fear. Well, she said the people she worked with were the nicest people she had ever met. That means a lot. 🙂

 

So you see, there is a human being behind all those hateful feelings you voice on the internet, on FB, on blogs, to your friends, to your neighbors, even people you don’t know…that hatred people keep talking about because of “these people who are going to hell due to an abomination” and you don’t approve.

 

Guess what…no one is seeking your approval. They don’t need it. Turn the shoe around and you are the one who is being talked about…the one who is shunned…how do you feel because people have ganged up against you and are saying you are going to hell? That angers me…that mob mentality. How can you do that to someone? And, then say it isn’t your choice but God’s? I don’t believe it and neither do other people who are seeing this play out in the public arena. When you hurt others, people notice.

 

My friend and I chatted some more. We talked about old times and recent times. I told her how I felt and that I couldn’t believe what I was hearing people say. We talked about what our world is facing right now with so many people being so uncompassionate. She told me that she knew I was progressive back in college—about 33 years ago in graduate school—I laughed. I didn’t think I was, but I guess it is true. I didn’t let things hold me back. I didn’t take no for an answer. I fought for those who were in need and if I saw a need that wasn’t being addressed–it didn’t matter what others thought–I didn’t stop to ask or was I concerned that I was doing the wrong thing–I would do whatever I could. I had passion. I was a leader. I spoke up and wasn’t afraid of the consequences. Later, when I had children, I became more conservative but my roommate reminded me that I was right—even way back then and she believes I am right now because Jesus was really the most liberal and most socialist individual there was…and guess what…

 

…she is right.  He was and I think he still is. 🙂

 

I used to think this was supposed to be a Christian nation but it isn’t. When our ancestors came over…those of us who have European ancestors…they didn’t come because everyone believed in the same religion. Look how many religious groups there were…not all were Christian. When the founding fathers were drawing up our rule of law, they wanted it to be as fair and open-ended because they knew situations would arise they could not foresee. In fact, there is argument that many of the founding fathers were not faithful to one religion and no religion. They were not a fan of theocracy because that has led to many problems.

 

We don’t have to have a Christian nation because no religion should be supreme over any other religion and for those who do not believe, then that needs to be addressed too. How would you like it to have something pushed down your throat that you are not a fan of?

 

If you are as Christian as you say you are for those who claim Christianity, you will embrace others who believe differently. We are holding on too tight. We must let go. If you have faith, you need to learn to walk with faith. If you cannot let go, I encourage you to study the words of Jesus. If you will, study the words of other faiths too. There are volumes out there that tell us how we should love…it comes from the heart. If you really profess to be a Christian, then you know the words are there and we just need to let go of the hate.

 

I believe the monster is in each of us and until we are of reasonable mind and logical understanding so that we can embrace others, then we are lost because I truly believe that we are supposed to get along with each other and love one another with nothing standing in the way. And yes, I believe there is no one that is not good enough to eat at the table. All of us are good enough.

 

Support Scouting.  Support children.

 

By the way, the GSA has already crossed this hurdle… 😉

 

Think about what it means to be kind to others…be humble…put others before yourself.

Happy Gardening! 🙂

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My Biggest Fear

Meditation can help with fears. Do you know how to meditate? I began taking the first steps of meditation back in high school. I studied and tried some methods and then I met a guy who practiced meditation on a daily basis. He was unique—he had a wooden board thrust in his eye when he was young. Pieces of wood or splinters were lodged behind his eyeball for years. Ewwww. 😦 There was no damage to the nerve but those pieces were left behind. He learned to meditate each day concentrating on getting the small slivers of wood to the “surface.” Our minds are very powerful.

 

I use meditation to help me avoid seizures, to ease blood pressure, to help with chronic pain, to calm me when things get out of hand, but sometimes none of the “tricks” work. There are a variety of ways to get to that special place in your mind–the sanctuary–that place of peace and contentment. Some people use imagery. Some start with prayer. Some use relaxation techniques or a blend of these. Whatever way you choose, a disciplined individual can practice meditation in a variety of ways. 

 

I have chosen to write about my deepest fear—the one thing that meditation cannot fix and that is the fear of rejection. When I was young, my dad insisted on me being the best because he knew I would have difficulties along the way. He believed that if I were the best I could be, it would help avoid those instances where people will reject you (me). He had no idea he was setting up a cycle that I would learn to repeat over and over because I never felt good enough.

 

Kids need to be praised and their achievements need to be celebrated not for what is to come but for the present—what is now–today–this moment. I didn’t really have that. Even when I made the highest grades and was a high achiever, it was not good enough. I cannot find fault with my parents but I never felt good enough. I would make a 99 on a paper and my dad would ask why did I not get a 100. Emphasis was given to become better but never achieving it. It’s like the ring one keeps reaching for but never able to attain. I find it a little ironic that he never saw me graduate from college…with honors. I did not achieve honors for myself but to gain admiration from my parents–I sought their approval. It was an end goal and intrinsic motivation was passed over.

 

All my life I have wanted to do things but I settled for something else. When I graduated from college and interviewed with companies, they could only see me as a female—I didn’t measure up. Everything I have reached for I have turned away because I kept saying I couldn’t and others reinforced that same thought. My dream was to go into oceanography (thanks Flipper and the many trips to Florida to visit my granddad). My dad kept telling me to do what I wanted but then would say I couldn’t do this basically because of my disability, I guess, so I settled for something else. I have talked about entering college as a physics major and then ending up with a degree in math and one in computer science. I was conflicted in high school–such an impressionable time. This is not a post about what I should have done but rather a post of why I always settled for second best or worse.

 

I never treated myself to things…I didn’t go places I should have gone because I was always doing things for other people. I blamed myself for the failure of my first marriage but in reality, I tried so very hard. I chose to forget that because there were so many painful memories. Being married to a drunk (that sounds awful) was not what I bargained for but I did not know he was like that. He never got drunk like that when we were dating. Getting back in touch with him last year made me remember how I would come home after working sometimes 12 hours (on my feet) and then having to clean up after him night after night and that was after dealing with customers and employees and everything from A to Z.

 

There are always at least two sides to a story but my side goes like this–he wasn’t working because of an accident at work and I was working sometimes 60-80 hours a week. I should have left him but I was trying to make it work. Later, I did a really good job at suppressing the truth because the truth hurts. I am my harshest critic and believe things are my fault. He wouldn’t admit there was a problem with his drinking. I tried to get us to go to AA but he wouldn’t and the fights increased. I wanted safety and love but it wasn’t there in my marriage. When I tried to talk issues and solutions, he told me that one never gives more than half (he wasn’t willing). I felt I was giving more than half and I wasn’t getting anything back. Marriage isn’t supposed to be this way.

 

When my mom got ill, I moved back to care for her. Before I remarried, I was raped and I did a terrific job of suppressing what happened. I made it ok in my mind with the person’s insistence that it was my fault. It was wrong to hide it but it was the best way that I could deal with it—it’s never ok when someone takes advantage of you. I raised a family—I cared for my mom and then my grandmother, my children, my husband—I sacrificed so they would be successful. I did this because I loved them. But in the end, no one was taking care of me. My second husband didn’t. He didn’t have my back like he said he would. I made excuses for him my whole marriage. I remember times where I wanted to leave but I talked myself into staying because I settled. I didn’t want to harm the children. I gave up so they would have.

 

That fear–rejection–has been following me all of my life. I still hear my dad’s voice—“Why isn’t it a 100?” I loved my dad but I didn’t grow up like I should have and I hope I have not repeated his mistake with my children.

 

I went to visit an old friend in Texas almost 2 years ago. He wanted to get married. It was my Romeo story except he turned out not to be so much of a Romeo. I don’t know what happened–not exactly. He’s the one that got way from me and I’m the one that got away from him. It seemed perfect at first but sometimes you cannot pick up where you leave off. He is older and was ready to retire–me, not so much ready to retire or ready to clean up after another man. There were some red flags I should have seen. He has changed and I’m sure I have, too. I felt rejected–that dreadful feeling. Gosh! I fight that feeling that I am not good enough almost every day.

 

I don’t know how to be good to me. I have always pushed myself to do things until now. I am the type of person who must have things to drive me—self-motivation. I was the center of my family. I was like the watch keeper. I set the tempo and drove the ‘bus’ so that everyone got to where they were going on time. I was the organizer. I was the cog—that central hub.

 

I want to have fun. I want to dance again. I want to see the northern lights. I want to visit Ireland. I want to visit the Lia Fáil. 😀 I want to take some time with my children and do things with them before it is too late. I want to make this a reality. I want to live. I want to finish the stories I began writing. I want to make a difference. I don’t want to settle–to take what is last or to wait until it’s my turn. I don’t want to feel rejected in everything I do.

Lia Fáil – from wikipedia. Common usage license – no changes.

 

I am fine at times but then I hit a bump in the road of life. That’s when I hear my dad’s voice. I tell myself everyday that I don’t have to prove anything to anyone but I still feel that I’m not good enough. Do you know that between two husbands, I probably can count how many times I was thanked or congratulated on cooking a meal on two hands–about 25 years…and I tried to be thankful to them for the smallest things. To be happy once again, I have to get rid of the feeling that I am not deserving, unworthy, and not good enough. I am working on it and my aim in life is to be good to me. I’m trying… So, be good to you, too. 🙂

 

Have a great day/night. 🙂

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Family and Pedigree

Do you have a well-documented pedigree? Are you from high quality stock? Maybe you descend from kings or royalty… I think there are plenty of skeletons in our closets and if we knew how bad they were, maybe we would take a different approach to people. Maybe we would be more accepting but we pride ourselves of our prized pedigree building walls between those who we believe are of lesser importance when we should open our arms and welcome them.

 

I have spent years doing genealogy research—some on my family lines and much about others. I have learned a great deal about people in general and I have learned much more than a history book could ever teach. Some people seek pedigrees that others will marvel at. I remember back when I thought about joining the Daughters of the American Revolution…I have several ancestors who fought in the war that broke our chains from the mother country. I was doing it for my daughters’ benefit more than anything else. I wanted to leave some sort of ties to their legacy on my side of the family since there is no real family to help them when they get interested in my family’s part of history. I eventually declined the invitation in the end because I was living too much in the past and I wanted to live in the present and future. That sounds awful but here is a part of my past and why I cannot judge anyone due to race. 🙂

 

Much of my dad’s family was fairly easy to trace. His paternal line came out of North Carolina and the surnames are all related. Looking at historical records, it is believed that there was a single progenitor who settled here in North America but from where he came is of question. Many believe he came from England before 1700. Oh, again, I don’t know of any ancestors coming to America after 1800. There is more about this line but I won’t proceed right now.

 

Emotions get caught up in the tales for me because I like to experience and see through each person’s eyes and speaking of eyes…my eyes are bluish greenish with brown spots. My mom’s were darker blue with brown spots and my dad’s eyes were lighter blue—almost silver with brown spots. You would never know that I have Native American blood—actually from both parents. Weird to me. Most of my dad’s family line hails from the British Isles…Ireland, Scotland, Wales and England but there is one family who has been traced to Germany. The Hillis family—my dad’s maternal line and the line that owned the farm on which I grew up were from Ireland but before 1785. I really wish I could get them back across the sea but there are no records of detail that have been found in Ireland and to my knowledge they were not Catholic so I think I am out of luck.

 

As for my mom’s family…before they settled in Alabama, they mostly came from Virginia through Tennessee. Most were US Revolutionary soldiers or descendants so many of them have left a mark in the historical records such as land grants, etc. I had good times (and bad) locating family ties—connecting with long distance cousins and talking with people. My grandfather—let’s get him out of the way—his line is the most problematic. There is a DNA surname project that is ongoing but his line of DNA markers show his haplogrouping belongs to that of the Nordic tribes while most of the surnames are connected (not his) and they are not Nordic. That would be par for my grandfather. He also had French ancestry that has been hard to prove because I cannot establish who the woman’s father was due to missing records. I cannot establish the validity to the Native American ancestor in his line nor if it is true that there was also at least one African American but odds are good that both are part of my heritage. I laugh at this because my mother’s mom was really racist and she had absolutely no reason to be. Sad. Really sad.

 

My mom’s mother’s line is the one I know most about. She had a Native American ancestor so I have nothing but mixed blood all around…lol. This same line is where the Huguenots tie in. My maternal matriarch—as far back through the female line as I can go with any certainty—married a third generation Huguenot descendant. You want to talk about religious persecution…the family that came over in 1700 were trying to escape so that they could build new lives here. They were first uprooted out of France into other parts of Europe as they sought freedom but when the influx of refugees disturbed the status quo, they were sent to America–not totally of their own free will.

Four generations of my female line–Mom, me, my grandmother and my great-grandmother.

😀

 

There is a lot I know about my mother’s maternal line and I have had to fight over it because I was told I didn’t descend from the very line I descend from—even though I had things passed down to me from the 1800s. In fact, the person who told me this made me caused me to dig that much harder to prove what I thought I knew but I filled in a lot of blanks and documented much of the information with historical records that were not in my possession. He even published a book with the wrong facts which he still makes money from. I was kind to him and tried to offer to share what I had not because I knew I was right but because I wanted to share (he had posted a note asking for help–if that doesn’t beat all) and his last response to me was that he felt sorry for me. Please. He was extremely disrespectful. I thought he wanted to know the truth. My mom would have loved to set him straight and she might have known him—I don’t know. He is probably distantly related. See…we don’t get to choose who we are related to.

 

There is a mindset that tells people they are right and they believe it even when the differing facts stare them in the face. In the case of the person who told me I didn’t belong, the proof was in my family’s cemetery lot–believe it or not. You see, my family always took care of one another. After a sister’s husband died and she was not able to care for herself, my ancestor took her sister in to care for her. The sisters in this generation were very close and remained close no matter how many miles apart.

 

It turned out that the sister who was taken in outlived the one who took care of her and she is buried in the family plot in Alabama. I had visited it many times but I didn’t know all of the story until several years ago. I was disowned by extended family and believed the guy who failed to do his research because of his title–he is a bigshot genealogist. Her grave and the historical records are there that show what is truth. Census data, pictures, etc. I cannot make him believe it is true–he holds onto another belief and he doesn’t accept me. Is that how we are to treat family? I don’t think so.

 

What does this say about who we are? Don’t hide behind someone. Don’t hide behind your beliefs. Reach out to those who need. Accept others with love in your heart.

 

May your gardens grow with great beauty and tenderness! 🙂

 

A variation of this post has been waiting since last year to be posted…I might catch up one day. 😀

 

 

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Wanted…

• Nice looking man with muscles to open wine bottles.
• Must have:  pleasant personality, enjoys wine and conversation and enjoys sharing kitchen–with me.
• A big plus:  can laugh at my jokes and witty humor, likes music and dancing, and isn’t scared of new things.
• Oh, and cannot be allergic to pets…or me. 🙂
• Also:  must be single with no attachments.

 

While visiting my younger daughter in Tennessee the other week, we made a trip to the local winery. Although the weather was cold with freezing precipitation, we had a great time. We did the tasting tour and of course I said I wanted to bring the entire vat of peach wine home. They didn’t take me serious at first but then said that it would cost about $30,000. That might be pocket change for some people but I just did not have the cash on me that day 😀 .

 

I cannot drink red wine for some strange reason—makes me very sick. It has been suggested that the tannins are the culprit but I don’t know and I don’t know if it has to do with some of my allergies. I can drink white wine and more fruity wines with no problem. I had all but given up on wine years ago because I never found anything that I really liked but today, there is so much more variety. I’m even thinking about making my own 🙂

 

We bought a few bottles of wine and one night after we returned home I texted my older daughter that I was having trouble opening a bottle. She said she had no problem—that she unwrapped the top and gave the bottle to her boyfriend and _(name withheld)_ opened it. I said that I didn’t have a _(name withheld)_ to open my wine and we just laughed. So…I came up with this want-ad.

 

As for my advertisement… a girl can dream, can’t she 😉 ? Have a great day! 🙂

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It’s time!

It’s time to make a difference…to make your voice heard…it’s time to do something for our EARTH!

 

 

🙂

How does your garden grow? Are you caring for it? Is it healthy? We all have a stake in the gardens of the world. Doing nothing means choosing to ignore and this inaction is actually detrimental to all of us. It is our responsibility to reach out to each other and make positive gains in taking better care of OUR Earth!!!

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Look around

I have taken a hiatus of sorts again—wasn’t planned—I stepped away from the usual everyday things and spent some time with myself. I like doing that to see where I am exactly. I used to stick to a rigid schedule—a timetable for everything.

 

I believe in speaking out when I see things. That is who I am. I am making progress in taking control of certain areas of my life. We say that half of the battle is in our minds and it is—sometimes I think it is more than half. I am still an activist for certain causes—I don’t think that will change. I have become more vocal but I try to choose my battles and make them few. One area I see as a problem is what we call rape. When I wrote about my coming forward and reaching out to get help recently, I had no idea of the magnitude that rape plays in today’s society as in how much it is in the public eye and how prevalent it really is. I had not heard what all was going on at universities across our nation. There have been incidents of rape on college campuses for years. This includes date rape if you are wondering. These attacks have gone mostly unreported and are still under-reported in my view—I didn’t report my incident that happened on a college campus—I wasn’t raped that time but I was taken advantage of and was almost assaulted by someone I did not know. It should have been reported. I should have done that and given an account of what happened but I was scared just like girls AND guys today are scared to come forward. It isn’t easy to do the right thing because when something happens to you, you become the center of attention for something that is horrible and people will blame ‘you.’

 

I hope to write a more in-depth post later about a certain woman who appeared on CNN to talk about rape and how she blamed the “victims.” This is why I didn’t report the second incident when I was sexually assaulted. In her eyes, I wasn’t raped. It didn’t matter that I have suffered from it and that it was forced—and I did not give consent. I fought off the person as best I could but I was unsuccessful. In her eyes, I should have just said, “No.” I cannot believe I heard the things that came out of her mouth but this will wait until another time.

 

Another situation that has been discussed in the news is about women having to get permission from the father to have an abortion…I’m not addressing ‘right to life’ or abortion—we all have our views and that’s fine. However, when interviewed about the bill, the sponsor was critical of women who have been subjected to domestic abuse and said they must get permission from their abuser and possible rapist. If that’s not a bunch of horse hooey I don’t know what is. He said an abortion should happen only when the mother’s life is in danger or when it is a “legitimate” rape. People believe crazy things like that a woman’s body will not allow her to get pregnant if she is “really” raped…that’s about the biggest pile of malarkey I have ever heard. There are plenty of cases this happens where the woman gets pregnant. If she gets pregnant, does that mean it wasn’t a ‘real rape?’ I have some beach front property I would like to sell if you believe this. These people must have flunked biology or something because it only takes an egg and one sperm to make a zygote that leads to a baby, yada, yada. I thought that was simple biology.

 

I can weigh in on the topic of rape because whether someone believes I was attacked or not, I was legitimately attacked–taken advantage of. Both were scary incidents and the second one still gives me nightmares. There are other times that have scared me but sexual assault is something that doesn’t go away easily. Can you imagine being a woman who has been raped? That’s enough to try to deal with but what happens when you get pregnant by someone who raped you? The abortion bill that was to be decided would require her to PROVE that a LEGITIMATE rape happened–their words. I don’t know about you but if you attack me and I get pregnant—you have no rights to anything about me, my body, children, babies, nothing! You don’t get that right. You gave that up when you took advantage of me. This is where my mom would begin her talk about her belief of sterilization/castration for men who rape 😀 😀 😀 . I carry a lot of my mom in me–both humor and being very serious at times. 😉 I’m so glad she never knew. 🙂

 

“Candle” by Shawn Carpenter (link) via flickr

[Terms of Use – Creative Commons (link) – no changes]

 

I am a survivor. I’m not a victim. I have been victimized many times but in the end, I survived and I am still surviving. To tell me that people who are sexually assaulted against their will are not victims or have not been victimized…that is wrong…terribly wrong. My heart cries out when those who stand up and call people liars because those people have suffered so greatly. Who are we to allow such?

 

Look around. What do you see? I still see inequality in so many areas and it stems out of lack of respect for each other. To think I was raped 25 years ago and didn’t come forward because I was scared people would say exactly what that woman on CNN said—that’s a quarter of a century later! We have made leaps and bounds of progress in other areas. Please don’t put us back to prehistoric times. Support survivors whether it is with grief, assault, all types of survivors…illness…PTSD…we need to stand together and not apart. And, please stop this thing about legitimate rape. Rape is rape—forced assault—someone taken advantage of. You can spray cans of sanitizer and perfume and whatever—it doesn’t change the fact of what happened. Reliving that horrid experience over and over is bad enough but making women feel insignificant and without control is not acceptable. After all, that is what sexual assault is about—someone taking from another so that they have control–they want to make the other one weaker.

 

Let’s support survivors and stop victimizing them. 🙂

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