Apparently, it’s a thing…..

While watching the news this morning, my ears perked up when I heard the news anchor say that a story was coming up regarding a trend that is putting men’s sexual partners at risk. Never did I imagine it would be the very same experience that occurred with my most recent sexual encounter in Blurred Lines.

http://www.allure.com/story/stealthing-removing-condom-without-partners-consent-sexual-assault

I breathed a huge sigh of relief, it has a name…..stealthing and then immediately felt embarrassed because I didn’t want my young daughter to make any correlation to me or this news story. She was fast asleep. She’s 12, and there will be plenty of time to talk to her about these kinds of situations when the time comes. I then breathed another sigh of relief. It’s a thing, a very real thing. I wasn’t crazy to feel violated. I wasn’t alone.

Is it wrong that I feel so relieved, that other women have shared my confusion and shame. That I feel like I am part of some strange club. That I no longer feel alone or confused by his actions. I’ve forgiven him, he did not know better and I wanted to move on.

I now know, that this is a discussion I will have with every new relationship. Openly discuss MY  boundaries and the consequences that Will be dealt if they are broken.

I no longer have to live in shame.

 

 

 

 

 

13 Reasons Why You Should Watch This Movie

So I began watching “13 Reasons Why” with my kids. I thought it was going to be another “after school type special” the kind that touches the surface of a hot topic but never delves deep into the heart of it, but I was wrong.

It was gritty and a honest look at bullying and teen suicide.

It was a bit difficult to watch as I found the main character very relatable but it did open up a dialogue with my kids regarding these very real facts that happen to kids both male and female everyday. They learned that not only was I their mom, but I was once a kid, once bullied, I was sexually assaulted by my peers more than once, labeled the school slut by school faculty and classmates alike and once attempted to take my own life.

 

 

It told my story and I’m glad that I watched it. And here is why you should watch it too:

  1. This is happening in every school in America.
  2. Bullying is not part of the J.H.S/H.S experience.
  3. 1 in 65,000 children ages 10 to 14 commit suicide each year.
  4. Know the signs.
  5. Speak to your children or anyone that you love about this very real topic.
  6. Suicide is preventable.
  7. Suicide is NOT an an attempt to gain attention.
  8. If you need someone to talk to reach out to the

    National Suicide Prevention Lifeline

     Call 1-800-273-8255
  9. If you think you were sexually assaulted please call the National Sexual Assault Hotline at 800.656.HOPE (4673)
  10.  There is always hope and there is always help
  11. Know that you are not alone.
  12. Suicide is NEVER the answer
  13. I was once Hannah Baker

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ouch

I hate to exercise. It’s not that I hate it because it’s so difficult, I mostly hate it because I can never seem to do it right….Flash back to Memorial Day weekend 2014, wait better make that February 2014.

Summer is fast approaching and I think it’s a bright idea to go hard in the gym I fell in love with the Arc Trainer at first sight. It gave me maximin results in shortest amount of time. I began to feel the pins and needles and tightness in my butt almost immediately. I could actually feel it lifting itself. What I could also feel were the first warning signs that I ignored, were the constant cramps (Charley Horses) in both my legs.

Every  night I experienced this pain in both my legs and then I began feeling it in the day as well. Just doing normal things like walking around caused searing pain in the back of my calves. But I kept going at the gym. I mean no pain, no gain right?

Now jump ahead to Memorial Day weekend. Picture this. I’m running up the steps of the train station to catch my bus. I’m excited and happy for the long weekend ahead of drunken debauchery with my sisters and family. I see the bus at the stop and sprint then I hear this loud POP in my head,

This POP is unlike anything I have ever heard. It was loud like a gunshot in alley that only I can hear. Then came the searing pain and I went down on one knee. Of course no one helped me, welcome to New York, but I managed to hobble over to a chair that the store owner keeps outside for people waiting for the bus so I could call my rescue squad (my son & niece).

Well long story short, I was dating a ex minor league baseball player at the time who convinced me not to seek medical attention (I couldn’t anyway, I had no insurance at the time) , abide by the R.I.C.E (Rest, Ice, Compression, Elevate) rule and stop being a big baby. It took many months before I was able to walk properly again. It was a tough few months, I really did have to learn to walk again.

Recovering was difficult on my own without medical intervention, it happened on a Friday, I was off Monday for Memorial Day and then I had already scheduled to be off Tuesday to recuperate from my Memorial Day hangover, little did I know that I was going to be doing some major recovery work.

I spent the entire time in bed, only getting up to pee and eat. I did everything in the R.I.C.E rules except the ice so it was more like R.C.E. but with a lot of help from my son I was able at least hobble into work that Wednesday. Never had I ever experienced the rudeness of New Yorkers as I did those few weeks I walked at a snail’s pace. I humbly apologize to anyone I have ever been impatient with (this applies only to people that had an injury, cane or crutches) everyone else speed up, this is New York after all.

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You can imagine the damper this put on my 42nd birthday celebration.

I spend about 75% of my day in heels, which I’m sure helped to contribute to the initial injury, I can’t completely blame the Arc Trainer (although I mostly do). Heels shortens the calf muscle, which is why it was a big help with my “personal recovery’ method. I switch out between 2 and 3 inch pumps then into flats daily as a way of easing into walking again normally.

I eventually did seek physical therapy which was extremely helpful but it will never be 100% again. Every time it rains or I overdo it it acts up. The only difference is this time I listen to the warning signs.

Fast Forward to 2 weeks ago; it’s getting warmer, I have my daughter’s trip to the US cheer finals in Virginia Beach coming up< I have my first trip to an international beach in June and so I decide to visit my old buddy Arc Trainer….Big mistake.

After only one 25 minute session at the gym, I was already feeling my old injury reeling its ugly head (or leg in this case) and like a dummy I misplaced my compression sleeve. My compression sleeve has saved my life (leg) through numerous twist and turns since 2014. But since I was unable to find it for 2 days, I devised one out of an old leg warmer…can you say #MacGyver lol.

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Fixing it myself #MacGyver

I’ve bought a new one, well it’s actually designed for knees but who cares it’s holding the muscle in place quite nicely and I’m healing. I took last week off from the gym and I went back a few days ago. Staying off that damn Arc Trainer and just taking it easy for now.

I’m learning that even small movements during the day are better than none at all. It might slow down my weight loss journey slightly but I’d rather that than being put completely out of commission.

Lesson of the story:

Take it slow, listen to your body, don’t listen to ex boyfriends and seek medical attention A.S.A.P

 

The band aid

So my little Tylenol experiment did not go as planned. I got home yesterday and there were 2 ice cold Corona’s in the fridge and after my experience with Tylenol and booze in a failed attempt to leave this earth as a kid I decide to just drink the beer….and some tequila. Funny how the same person is involved in both events.

Anywho, I must admit the drinks were a nice ending to a long ass day. The Symptom‘s of heartbreak can be easily patched with a tequila bandaid. The hard part is the next morning when it is ripped off.

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via Daily Prompt: Symptom

Numbing the pain

I’ve recently experienced several heart breaks(sometimes it’s just that way). It’s not like I have never had my heart broken before but it just seems to be getting worse as opposed to easier. Maybe it’s the fact that I keep allowing the same person to break it? I don’t know.

While googling how to heal a broken heart I came across this interesting article in “The New York Times”. YES, I do actually google everything.

Does it work? Will Tylenol really help to heal this broken heart? I imagine it can help ease all the physical pains that I am feeling.Yea, I know a fistful of tylenol a day can wreak havoc on my liver and kidneys. So can the alcohol that I would like to consume daily except that I worry about the calories.

I just popped some some advil, not sure it will have the same effect. But I will update in a week or so to see if Tylenol actually helped me heal.

Definitely an interesting read if you have the time.

Rape culture

This was a really wonderful piece, especially after experiencing something similar very recently. IT IS NOT OK!

LET ME BE FRANK

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Every morning I get an email from The Nib, sending me political comics about mainly American issues. Sometimes I read them, sometimes I don’t, but mostly I pick one that appeals to me stylistically the most. (I always read my Kupu o te Rā but only sometimes remember what it was a few hours later.) Comics are a very powerful medium for politics, but sometimes they lack complexity. I hesitated about posting this comic because it oversimplified the issue. Or perhaps it didn’t. I really enjoyed this blog post by Bernard Beckett, which seemed quite a lot more nuanced, and something I’d like my son to read. I also really liked this article by Emma Kelly, putting the onous on men to change things. And this powerful piece by Emily Writes. But since things seem to crazy right now, since the world feels like it’s in crisis, I feel…

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Blurred Lines

First I want to be clear I am not giving this the Label of a rape. I was not beaten, my clothing was not torn, he did not enter my body against my will. I was a willing participant as long as we followed the rules.

But I may have been violated. I feel confused and hurt, much like I did when I was 17 and raped by an ex boyfriend that said he loved me. That was a rape by the definition I gave above, this was not.

Friday night started off perfect. Celebrating St. Patrick’s day with coworkers and I thought it would be a good idea to invite “him” out to start slowly incorporating him into my life.I became comfortable with the whole PDA thing and even began posting it as part of my snapchat story.

The night ended early with my coworkers, he had other plans for us. That was fine, I always have enjoyed our private time together. He booked us a unique room in a trendy part of the city. It was cute and cozy and well thought out and that mixed with random foot massages was making me fall even harder for him.

I had ALOT to drink that night. I’ll admit it and so this is the part that becomes so confusing to me and has blurred all the lines. We are adults and we had consensual sex, using the protection. That is my rule. No condom, no sex. I said it many times that night and before.Sober and drunk. He knew this.

So when I woke up to him on top of me, I wasn’t alarmed at first. There is no better way I could think of to be woken up. The gentle caress and kisses from your partner accompanied with the rhythmic motion as their body joins your. So no I wasn’t alarmed. I never said no, I welcomed it.

It felt distinctly different, I wanted to ask if he had put a condom on, but I didn’t. I let him continue. I was 1/2 asleep, I was drunk and I was secure in the fact that I had told him, a condom always. So I never said no.

So where is this going? I became alarmed when he was done, his ejaculate was everywhere. I couldn’t understand how that could happen if he was wearing a condom, I didn’t hear the distinctive snap that it made when pried of a hard penis in a rush to spill itself everywhere. I immediately questioned all of these things that were racing through my mind but then he held me even tighter so I was unable to move and promised me he was wearing one.

It was late, I needed to get out of there. I wanted to go home. My eyes did a quick survey of the bed trying to locate this discarded condom. I saw none, just the wet spot of my shame on the bed. Shame? Why shame? Because I didn’t say no when my body betrayed my brain.

So was this a rape? I would have never consented to sex without a condom.He insist he wore one. I never asked for proof. He never offered any.I just know that I feel betrayed and violated.My mind keeps running over into that room searching for this hidden condom. I’m afraid to almost invent one with my imagination because then it would mean that he hadn’t violated me, lied to me, betrayed me.

But my body and my heart feel otherwise, the condom doesn’t exist. He did do all those things to me, and now my real shame begins. Do I tell my other partner what happened? Should I get tested (I was just tested in February, will my insurance even pay for another full panel of test). How do I get him to understand that what he did is not okay without calling it rape?

The lines are blurred this time, I was clearly raped when I was 17. No questions. It was violent, hurtful and full of hate,control and life changing.

Was it rape? I don’t want to label the situation. I don’t want to be a victim.

 

 

 

 

 

 

via Daily Prompt: Label