An Open Letter to Haters and Bigots

While walking across a college campus, the faces seem a frenzied blur, too many to count.  The majority of those faces are female, as the New York Times states at least 57% of college enrollments in the United States are women.  With so many educated women across the U.S. in colleges and universities, you would think sexism was no longer a prominent issue.  Sadly, 1 in 5 university women will become the victim of an attempted or completed rape by the time she graduates, and approximately 25% of female graduates will become victims of sexual assault (RAINN.org).  The walk across campus suddenly seems darker knowing that many of those visages are masks, hiding the new truth of our generation:  every day when students walk across their campuses, it is guaranteed they will pass multiple victims of sexual assault. 

So why does it matter?  As Martin Luther King, Jr. once stated, “We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny.  Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly.”  Whether discussing our local community, nation, or world at large, we are all part of the fabric of humanity, the tapestry of our time.  Our actions and reactions are tangible evidence of not only who we are, but where we come from, and where we are heading.  Although progressive since the 1960s, many Americans are still exposed to bigotry, racism, bullying, and hate crimes.  A forerunner to these systematic oppressions within the United States is widespread violence against women – a topic often dismissed and rarely addressed.

You see, one person’s choices and actions do impact others.  I know this for a fact because I am a living example of Dr. King’s statement, made some 30-plus years before my birth.

The actions of others almost killed me.  From sixth grade through eleventh grade, I was bullied.  In tenth and eleventh grades, the bullying became sexual harassment and assault.  More than that, I am a statistic.  On April 23^rd, 2010, when I was only 16 years old, I was brutally gang raped by peers from my school, and as a result was diagnosed with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) - a common anxiety disorder that develops after exposure to a terrifying event or ordeal in which grave physical harm occurred or was threatened (MedicineNet.com).  The rape was designed to belittle me and take away my very womanhood, a trait they viewed as weakness to be taken advantage of.

Unlike the Sexual Assault Statistics (OneinFour.org), my rape didn’t occur in college but in high school.   Approximately 44% of sexual assault victims are not legal adults, meaning they were assaulted under the age of 18, as I was.  An average of 237,868 women are victims of sexual assault each year in the U.S.  This computes to 28 women per hour (www.oneinfourusa.org/statistics). 

I’ve learned that I can make a difference, one person at a time.  Like a ripple in the water, a drop of rain on parched ground, or a smile or hug to someone who’s hurting, I will make a difference in the world.  Finding my voice, literally and figuratively, was more than overcoming my past or my disability.  My voice is helping me stand up against numerous kinds of injustices: bullying and cyberbullying, violence and abuse against children, acceptable treatment of the LGBTQIA community, racism, and abandonment and cruelty to animals.   But more than that, my hope is to speak out for and continue to work with women who’ve been abused or victims of assault, and to educate those around me about the horrible and far-reaching epidemic of violence against women.

Recently, after a YouTube video of mine was posted on the TESSA of Colorado Springs’ facebook page, I was asked for an interview with a local news station. In the interview, I spoke about teen dating violence and an abusive relationship I had been in. However, following the interview, one comment on the webpage’s link really stuck with me. An anonymous writer commented, “Im not sure this addled little hooker should have been in a "relationship" at 14.. Im also not sure why this bubble headed bimbo's dating "advice" is "news" ??” Now, imagine after opening up about something difficult and challenging in the hopes of making a difference, only to be greeted with harsh criticism and insults. Here’s the thing – I get it ALL the time. I talk about relationship abuse, rape, sexual assault, feminism, racism, ableism… and I am often greeted with hate and even threats from the cyber community. I have been called “cunt, bitch, faggot, pussy, feminazi,” told “get back to the kitchen you ignorant slut” and my personal favorite: “you sound like you microwave hamsters,” among many others. I have been through so much, and when I try to make a difference for young women like me, I am often re-traumatized when I am met with pure hatred and ignorance.

It is never easy to fight for what is right. It is never easy to educate others or push for progress in our community. It certainly isn’t easy for me, with a disability that often hinders and limits me. But, to Mr. Anonymous (whom I call Jerkface in my head), and to all the other cyberbullies I have met… THANK YOU. You are the reason I do what I do – literally. Because there will always be someone who doesn’t understand, who doesn’t see the issues. Let me assure you, Mr. Anonymous, every time you post something ignorant on a webpage, I will be there. I will NEVER be silent. I will NEVER stop talking about what is going on in our community, and I will never stop fighting to make the world a better place for my children and for YOURS. This “addled little hooker’s” story IS newsworthy because 1 in 3 women and 1 in 10 men will be sexually assaulted in their lifetime. Until it changes, I can promise you every time you turn on the news, I will do my damndest to be there, talking about assault, raising awareness, and making a difference in our community. Thank you for empowering me to never stop fighting for change.

“I write for those women who do not speak, for those who do not have a voice because they were so terrified, because we are taught to respect fear more than ourselves.  We’ve been taught that silence would save us, but it won’t.”  Audre Lorde.

Adults are Liars and Other Lessons

            You, a counselor, are seeing a client who is engaging in self-destructive behaviors. She demonstrates interpersonal chaos, impulsive and irrational behavior, cognitive dysregulation, and succeeds in not only harming herself emotionally, but those around her. Her relationships are strained or in conflict, she is not mindful of her actions nor of the influence they have on the people around her.

            As humans, we often encounter people in moments of distress. Life is challenging to say the least, and we being imperfect, flawed, and broken, tend to have lives that reflect this. There isn’t necessarily such a thing as “having your shit together” – it’s an illusion. Life gives us lemons, throws us curveballs, and is sometimes a general shitshow.

            As a child, I used to envy adults. They were so calm and collected and put together. My life existed in a state of pandemonium and disarray where scraped knees and being put in time-out were crises of epic proportions. As a teenager, heartbreak was a common occurrence, and life basically “sucked.” Again, I idolized the picturesque perfection of adulthood.

            Here I am, at the dawn of said adulthood, and I realize… it was a farce. A lie. A Façade.

            Adults, once long-legged creatures of grace and composure more closely resemble fat, fluffy, baby pandas, excited but lazy, rolling over one another and bumping into each other in confusion and blind frenzy, mostly curious as to where the food is.

            Furthermore, adults are constantly in distress. Money and bills and jobs and interviews and dating and student loans and marriage and babies and divorce and taxes and death and mistresses and relationships and confusion and heartbreak and BEDLAM. You adults LIED TO ME. Where was the class where I would learn how to handle everything with composure?

            Back to your client. Her behavioral, emotional, and thinking patterns are creating dissonance in her world, causing misery and distress. Now, our natural reaction not only as a therapist but as an empathetic being is to help our client. Let’s take a step back. Let’s fix it.

            WRONG.

            Here is the true secret to adulthood, and potentially to a happy life. Are you listening?

            We are not here to FIX it. Life itself can be generally lousy sometimes. We hear over and over again that it won’t be easy. We do not FIX our client, we do not FIX our own problems, we do not FIX our lives. We learn skills on how to handle, how to cope, how to reframe, how to regulate. We learn distress tolerance. Core mindfulness. Emotion regulation.

            If your client asked you to fix her life, you would not have the power to do so. Even she lacks that power! But we can learn skills that prepare us for the chaos of life and tackle it with grace… like adults.

            I can’t tell you life will be great or easy. In fact, I can pretty much promise you the opposite. But even in our moments of distress, there is great beauty. With the right tools and mindset, you can tackle just about anything.

And as my wise mother often says, “Happiness is a choice, not a destination.” 

Travels

Over the past two years, my relatively quiet life has suddenly included a significant amount of travel. Between being in a long distance relationship, studying abroad, and rediscovering a general love for new places, I’ve found it hard to sit still for too long.

Now that travel has become relatively commonplace for me, I consider myself on my way to becoming a traveling pro.

Whether genetically inherited from my father – a pilot in the air force who gets antsy if he doesn’t fly at least once a month – or simply a disease caught by chance, I have a terrible case of wanderlust.

That being said, it’s time to start passing on information that I have found useful in my travel. Much of what I learned was through some trial and a lot of error… so hopefully I can spare my followers the misfortune of my travel mishaps.

Stick with me over the next few weeks as I discuss how to pack a carry-on like a pro, how to visit NYC, and even share my own misadventures here.

Ciao, miei amori!

A letter to our parents:

We are embarking on a journey. After much discussion and dreaming, Erin, Hollis, Brett and myself are going to western Europe. Why? How? Let me explain.

Last summer, Hollis and I both studied abroad in London. We knew each other for only three weeks, but she became my soul sister. We talked about our deepest desires and fears, our families and friends. Making friends abroad is a totally different experience – you cling to one another with an equal mix of love and desperation. Living with one another gave us a new appreciation for the simplest of things. We learned budgeting, self care, and the true value of a shared, cheap pasta dinner.

I thought I was crazy to go all the way to London with no one to meet me at the other side. My first night in London, I got miserably lost trying to get back to campus. I was so exhausted I was falling asleep, I had to navigate the tube by myself, and it was extremely late. But I was never scared – I am smart and stubborn. I made it back after three hours, and I never had troubles navigating the transportation system again. That experience taught me self-sufficiency, independence, and that the world doesn’t have to be a big, scary place. I sought help without being a target, I was aware of my surroundings, and for the first time I didn’t depend on my parents to get me out of a sticky situation. Hollis had a similar situation and traveled to Ireland and Scotland completely alone! We were empowered by our own strength, explored and pushed our limitations, and expanded our educational horizons.

I have been told “the habits you form now will be with you for the rest of your life.” Many people I once knew have demonstrated the truth in the statement in a negative manner. I have watched youth I knew grow in to adults. Laziness turns into apathy and lack of ambition. Partying, once so cool, turns into alcoholism. Sleeping around turns into failed marriages and accidental pregnancies. While I don’t want to sound all gloom-and-doom, and I believe your life can turn around at any moment, there is an important lesson here: life is a result of intentional habits. So I decided to do the things that were most important to me first, not last.

As we get older, life can just sort of happen to us. Whatever we end up doing, we often end up with more responsibilities, more burdens, more obligations. This isn’t necessarily negative – it’s part of growing up. It means you’re influencing people, leaving a legacy. Youth, in contrast, is a time of total empowerment and change.  We still have ‘room to grow,’ and are at the time of mistakes, discovery, and seeking direction.

I have grown and changed through travel – and what better habit is there than appreciating the beauty of life around me? Traveling changes the way you see the world. You are humbled to realize the world does not revolve around you, and find new ways to relate to others.

I have lost people who are dear to me far too soon, and I am reminded of the fragility of life. We are not promised old age, we are not guaranteed more time. I choose to see the world and taste the fullness of life, I seek to give my life meaning.

Why now? … Why not? I refuse to let my dreams be only dreams.

So, with three dear friends, limited funds and only a backpack, I seek to expand my horizons. We travel not to escape life, but for life to not escape us.

The Trouble with PORN

The Trouble with PORN

Yet Another

It’s impossible to say what’s next Currently, to take one breath And another And another To remind my aching heart to continue to beat While my mind screams for release And I lay Shaking Cold Empty on the floor To he, a game To me, my life And I was a casualty Nothing more, I suppose. His friends who mocked me For my silly photos Silly videos Silly girl Yet, I thought that’s what he loved My passion My childlike innocence My laughter My naivety My zest for life My hunger for adventure and experience Me.
But he loved nothing
I suppose
But his own selfish desires
Not knowing with every breath he drew
I was counting on him
To be the man I knew he could be
To be different
To be the one who finally saw me and loved me for who I am
Who caressed these fermenting thoughts
Trapped in rotting flesh
Who would nurture back to life
The sweet, careless girl
Reckless, in love He was my breath My light And I managed to lose myself in him The permeable membrane All to eager to give it all And now I am left with nothing He, not knowing Me, not seeing That no one can love me But myself.