Every week a new headline catches the attention of a nation ready to attack and judge the subject. Recently, a gorilla, a toddler, and a Mom were in the firing range. Everyone became a perfect parent, and an expert zookeeper. But, the most recent headline sparking debate, is tearing a hole through me, and I've discovered some troubling things.
I had no idea there was a "rape culture." I had to look it up. Such a thing, even after reading the definitions, seems implausible to me. A generation that doesn't recognize the definition of rape, or believe that it should be punished severely...that is one warped, hardened generation.
Nineteen-seventy-nine gave my rapist his 20+ minutes of action. With me, at least. I was naive, a virgin, and very, very drunk. Bad decisions are made while drunk...anyone that had been drunk has probably made at least one in their lives, thus far. My second bad decision (the first was getting that drunk) was taking a ride from an acquaintance who I saw frequently at the bars, and who seemed to be everyone's buddy. I thought, how bad can he be? I never made it to the party he was giving me the ride to. Instead, he pulled into an alley, and kissed me. Then, began pushing me against the bucket seat. As I tried to free myself, I somehow ended up pinned against the console, where he raked me across it, into the back seat. I vaguely remember him telling me to stop crying, but, I don't remember much until the end. This action had nothing to do with sex, but, with opportunity and conquering.
I wish I'd have known that. I lived with guilt and shame for years. I never reported it. I told only one person right after it happened, although my sister knew because she walked in on me getting dressed, and the bruises rendered her speechless. A year later, I told my Mom. She cried so much. She worked in the bank, and wondered how she would ever wait on him again. My already fractured self esteem crumbled to dust. I must mean nothing, if someone could take away something so personal, and toss me about like a rag doll. I made more bad decisions. And more.
After around six years, my doctor demanded I see a counselor. At that time, it was the hardest thing I'd ever done. But, I learned a lot about what makes a rape, and what doesn't mean you "deserve it." That, I think has been the most troubling thing about the headlines...the lack of enlightenment men have regarding rape.
One hopelessly unenlightened man commented specific surroundings that made a rape a rape. Apparently, being assaulted behind garbage dumpsters didn't make the cut. Nor did 'in a car, in an alley'. The men joked about rape being "a forceful way to get your rocks off." I was getting...let's call it riled. I commented on rape being about power, not sex, and more mocking ensued. As my last response, I posted "Rape Myths", and was chastised for my site selection. It was wvu.edu. That's right, a university. What I found most interesting was that my comments were being "liked" by women. Lots of them. Men mocked. How did this happen? When did fathers stop teaching their sons that raising a hand to a woman is wrong?
Just for the record: Myth: Rape is caused by the perpetrator's uncontrollable sexual urge. Fact: Rape is an act of power and control, not sex. In addition, one of the biggest myths about rape is that it happens out of sexual desire..I will add, however, in the case of date rape, perhaps, it may start as sexual urge, but, should stop, no matter how excited a man is, if "no", or fighting back, or trying to escape the situation occurs.I know it's not easy, guys...even hurts, but, if you a real man, you know it's the right thing to do. If you are a man reading this, I beg you not to dismiss it. As someone that has lived through the he experience, been taught about the act, and supported others with the same story, I stand by this. One episode of CSI:SVU would tell you this!
I've not shared my story with many. Perhaps I should have, I suppose. One thing the media has gotten right is that the victim gets blamed before the perpetrator. It has to stop..
Tuesday, June 7, 2016
Thursday, May 12, 2016
LIVING WITH THE "F" WORD--IN HONOR OF FIBROMYALGIA AWARENESS MONTH
I used to be like anyone without a chronic illness.
Since 1994, I kissed Hub goodbye at 4:30am, got up at 6:00, showered and got ready for work. Got Daughter up, and ready for school. Fed the dogs, let them out to be "good puppy". I went to work. Worked all day. After work, I, sometimes, went to get groceries, picked up Daughter from sitter, then rushed home to get my part of dinner ready. We'd have dinner, helped with homework, and I would check her spelling words, with my crotchety teacher look...glasses at the tip of my nose, with a old person voice, either asking her to respell a word, or drawing a star, a smiley face, or my own creation, "Hairy" onto the top of her correct paper. She would take a supervised bath, then we would watch TV until her bedtime, when I would read her a book, turn on her Raffi tape, and head downstairs to watch TV, then run back upstairs to turn the Raffi tape over, run back downstairs to finish watching TV until bedtime. In the morning, I started all over again, just like everyone else.
And, then, Baby Boy was born. The routine had to be tweaked, but, I was in love with that Baby Boy, so "it was all good", as they say. Only, it wasn't.
The day started with that kiss at 4:30, the Baby Boy Alarm at 5 (with him requesting me at midnight, and two), feeding him, while watching IMUS, dressed him, showered for 5 minutes, while he played on a blanket, got Daughter up, helped her dress, fed her, let them play a bit, while I fed the dogs, and let them out, took Baby Boy to sitter, Daughter to school, and myself to work. Pick up kids, rush home, begin my part of dinner. That's when the colic took place. Every single night, at dinner. We'd argue about the fact that it wasn't Baby Boy's fault that he had colic, try to eat dinner, help with homework, check spelling words, with my crotchety old teacher fading, but, still hand drawn stars and smileys. Baby Boy would calm down, and play on his blanket, with Daughter, sometimes, playing with him. We'd watch TV, put kids to bed, with Daughter changing her own tape, and, me reading book to Baby Boy. Turn on his Elton John mix tape, run downstairs to watch TV, back up to turn the tape over, run back down to watch TV, with me heading for bed at 9, Hub maybe 10:30. Up around midnight and two, then all over again at 4:30.
Something didn't feel right. One day, I came home and told Hub that I was exhausted, but not sleepy. More like bone tired. Like walking with cement blocks on my feet, through mud, and 5 feet of snow. And, so sore. I had healed from my Ligation...scars good, bruises gone, but, I hurt everywhere. Eventually, I was fired for missing too much work, due to being put on bed rest at 5 months, and every kind of depression, exhaustion, and so, so much pain. Needless to say, the news was not greeted with joyfulness. But, with some Unemployment, and a tweak of the budget, we did just fine.
My Mother was concerned and told me about a company that would represent me if I wanted to apply for Social Security Disability Insurance. I thought that it couldn't hurt. Now, let me, quickly, say that SSDI is not a government handout, as many people think. It is an account that all of those working, make a deposit into, with every paycheck. It is sort of an assurance that, in time of need, you will be okay, financially. Except, you aren't. But, that's what it is.
I filled out paperwork for a couple of days, mailed it off. I was filing based on an article I'd read in TIME, regarding a mysterious illness reported by, primarily, women, that involved body-wide pain, and overwhelming fatigue. It was called Fibromyalgia. There also a close cousin, Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, now named, Systemic Exertion Intolerance Disease. I have both. After being diagnosed with it, I thought, I finally had an answer. Surely, if I had a name for it, it must be known everywhere, right? The agent that called a few weeks later said "no", I'd never get SSDI based on Fibromyalgia. At the last minute, before my hearing, the company dropped my case, and I was left to represent myself.
I sat in a room with, I think, 15 doctors and lawyers, and answered question after question about my daily routine, how I handled various situations, even my sex-life. The longer I was there, the more anxious I got, eventually shaking, crying, sweating, and having massive panic heartbeats. I was fidgety, and had to be allowed to use the restroom because I thought I would be sick. When it was all over, I was congratulated on my bravery, and they let me read what the doctors had to say about all medical conditions. I could not believe what my Rheumatologist had to say about the Fibromyalgia. He reported that I could sit, stand, or walk for 6 hours a day! I was furious. As horrible as I felt, and this was what he "assessed". Then I got to the assessment of my psychiatric medications doctor. His assessment was written with respect to me, and my struggles with his diagnoses, at the time. And a year later, I was awarded SSDI. But, not for Fibromyalgia. That still got no recognition in the guidelines for SSDI. In fact, it was only last year that it was added to those guidelines. Millions of people, worldwide, have been in pain for decades, and it took until 2015 for it to be recognized as "real", because there is no lab test. Nothing a doctor can show to someone. Nothing as palpable proof.
Eventually, I found a Rheumatologist that listened, and kept up to date on the latest chronic illnesses. He'd just been to a pain seminar a year ago, and he shared the finding of a study that involved pain stimuli and the brain. We all know that the brain is halved by a pathway, and that the left brain is responsible for the movement and sensation of the right side of the body, and vice versa. The study introduced pain stimuli to a person's left leg, and the right side of the brain lit up, as it should. But, when stimuli was introduced for longer, and made more intense, the pain signals eventually crossed over to the other side of the brain, causing pain all over the body, rather than just the applicable side. Continued pain actually rewires the brain!
I suppose this is more information that most of you thought you needed, but, as an advocate for invisible, chronic illnesses, I'm always reminding people to read a bit about Fibromyalgia, if they know someone with it. Of course, you can not understand it, unless you live it, but, just being educated and aware will mean so much to the person that suffers with it! Perhaps, many of you remember an episode of "Happy Days" that had Fonzie frustrated with his Grandma Nusbaum. To make him understand how her age affected her, she had him walk around in shoes with rocks in them, see out of her glasses, and walk a bit hunched, and, with a cane. When Fonzie was asked how he felt, he responded, "I can't see so good. I can't walk so good. My back is killing me!" Grandma Nusbaum was a wise woman!
So, in honor of Fibromyalgia Awareness Month, the month of May, perhaps Google it. When you see that person ask how today has been, rather than "how are you?", because every day with Fibro is different. And, different for each person.
Thank you for your time. I hope everyone has a low pain, high energy day!
Since 1994, I kissed Hub goodbye at 4:30am, got up at 6:00, showered and got ready for work. Got Daughter up, and ready for school. Fed the dogs, let them out to be "good puppy". I went to work. Worked all day. After work, I, sometimes, went to get groceries, picked up Daughter from sitter, then rushed home to get my part of dinner ready. We'd have dinner, helped with homework, and I would check her spelling words, with my crotchety teacher look...glasses at the tip of my nose, with a old person voice, either asking her to respell a word, or drawing a star, a smiley face, or my own creation, "Hairy" onto the top of her correct paper. She would take a supervised bath, then we would watch TV until her bedtime, when I would read her a book, turn on her Raffi tape, and head downstairs to watch TV, then run back upstairs to turn the Raffi tape over, run back downstairs to finish watching TV until bedtime. In the morning, I started all over again, just like everyone else.
And, then, Baby Boy was born. The routine had to be tweaked, but, I was in love with that Baby Boy, so "it was all good", as they say. Only, it wasn't.
The day started with that kiss at 4:30, the Baby Boy Alarm at 5 (with him requesting me at midnight, and two), feeding him, while watching IMUS, dressed him, showered for 5 minutes, while he played on a blanket, got Daughter up, helped her dress, fed her, let them play a bit, while I fed the dogs, and let them out, took Baby Boy to sitter, Daughter to school, and myself to work. Pick up kids, rush home, begin my part of dinner. That's when the colic took place. Every single night, at dinner. We'd argue about the fact that it wasn't Baby Boy's fault that he had colic, try to eat dinner, help with homework, check spelling words, with my crotchety old teacher fading, but, still hand drawn stars and smileys. Baby Boy would calm down, and play on his blanket, with Daughter, sometimes, playing with him. We'd watch TV, put kids to bed, with Daughter changing her own tape, and, me reading book to Baby Boy. Turn on his Elton John mix tape, run downstairs to watch TV, back up to turn the tape over, run back down to watch TV, with me heading for bed at 9, Hub maybe 10:30. Up around midnight and two, then all over again at 4:30.
Something didn't feel right. One day, I came home and told Hub that I was exhausted, but not sleepy. More like bone tired. Like walking with cement blocks on my feet, through mud, and 5 feet of snow. And, so sore. I had healed from my Ligation...scars good, bruises gone, but, I hurt everywhere. Eventually, I was fired for missing too much work, due to being put on bed rest at 5 months, and every kind of depression, exhaustion, and so, so much pain. Needless to say, the news was not greeted with joyfulness. But, with some Unemployment, and a tweak of the budget, we did just fine.
My Mother was concerned and told me about a company that would represent me if I wanted to apply for Social Security Disability Insurance. I thought that it couldn't hurt. Now, let me, quickly, say that SSDI is not a government handout, as many people think. It is an account that all of those working, make a deposit into, with every paycheck. It is sort of an assurance that, in time of need, you will be okay, financially. Except, you aren't. But, that's what it is.
I filled out paperwork for a couple of days, mailed it off. I was filing based on an article I'd read in TIME, regarding a mysterious illness reported by, primarily, women, that involved body-wide pain, and overwhelming fatigue. It was called Fibromyalgia. There also a close cousin, Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, now named, Systemic Exertion Intolerance Disease. I have both. After being diagnosed with it, I thought, I finally had an answer. Surely, if I had a name for it, it must be known everywhere, right? The agent that called a few weeks later said "no", I'd never get SSDI based on Fibromyalgia. At the last minute, before my hearing, the company dropped my case, and I was left to represent myself.
I sat in a room with, I think, 15 doctors and lawyers, and answered question after question about my daily routine, how I handled various situations, even my sex-life. The longer I was there, the more anxious I got, eventually shaking, crying, sweating, and having massive panic heartbeats. I was fidgety, and had to be allowed to use the restroom because I thought I would be sick. When it was all over, I was congratulated on my bravery, and they let me read what the doctors had to say about all medical conditions. I could not believe what my Rheumatologist had to say about the Fibromyalgia. He reported that I could sit, stand, or walk for 6 hours a day! I was furious. As horrible as I felt, and this was what he "assessed". Then I got to the assessment of my psychiatric medications doctor. His assessment was written with respect to me, and my struggles with his diagnoses, at the time. And a year later, I was awarded SSDI. But, not for Fibromyalgia. That still got no recognition in the guidelines for SSDI. In fact, it was only last year that it was added to those guidelines. Millions of people, worldwide, have been in pain for decades, and it took until 2015 for it to be recognized as "real", because there is no lab test. Nothing a doctor can show to someone. Nothing as palpable proof.
Eventually, I found a Rheumatologist that listened, and kept up to date on the latest chronic illnesses. He'd just been to a pain seminar a year ago, and he shared the finding of a study that involved pain stimuli and the brain. We all know that the brain is halved by a pathway, and that the left brain is responsible for the movement and sensation of the right side of the body, and vice versa. The study introduced pain stimuli to a person's left leg, and the right side of the brain lit up, as it should. But, when stimuli was introduced for longer, and made more intense, the pain signals eventually crossed over to the other side of the brain, causing pain all over the body, rather than just the applicable side. Continued pain actually rewires the brain!
I suppose this is more information that most of you thought you needed, but, as an advocate for invisible, chronic illnesses, I'm always reminding people to read a bit about Fibromyalgia, if they know someone with it. Of course, you can not understand it, unless you live it, but, just being educated and aware will mean so much to the person that suffers with it! Perhaps, many of you remember an episode of "Happy Days" that had Fonzie frustrated with his Grandma Nusbaum. To make him understand how her age affected her, she had him walk around in shoes with rocks in them, see out of her glasses, and walk a bit hunched, and, with a cane. When Fonzie was asked how he felt, he responded, "I can't see so good. I can't walk so good. My back is killing me!" Grandma Nusbaum was a wise woman!
So, in honor of Fibromyalgia Awareness Month, the month of May, perhaps Google it. When you see that person ask how today has been, rather than "how are you?", because every day with Fibro is different. And, different for each person.
Thank you for your time. I hope everyone has a low pain, high energy day!
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