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Wednesday, September 26, 2018

Sexual Assault and the Golden Rule

It is inescapable. The constant news of rampant sexual abuse of women and children. And the powerful men willing to let it continue, ignore it, or even pass it off with a "boys will be boys" sigh.

I know that "boys will be boys" line as it was said to me when I told about an assault in a family member’s home. Don't believe it happens in "nice" families? My dad was a college professor and minister. We all went to church every time the doors were open. What you see is not necessarily what you get.

There is a line from the Gilbert and Sullivan operetta, HMS Pinafore, that always comes back to me when these issues arise -- "skim milk masquerades as cream". Shallow pretending to have depth.

It's not bad enough that victims are expected to keep quiet about assault as if it is somehow our fault that someone else behaved badly, viciously, violently. We're told to think about the impact it will have on the abuser's life, success, career, reputation if we air our dirty laundry. Guess what, it's not MY dirty laundry. One of the best deterrents of "bad behavior" is knowing everyone will find out who you truly are!

I've been, mostly, silent over the past couple of years on this topic. In the past, I’ve been open about the abuse I endured, but even now typing these words, my hands shake at the thought of just telling the truth. Fear of the repercussions gnaws at my gut. Somehow, I am responsible for keeping the abusers' secrets and protecting them from being outed so I remain vague about the details.

How did we come to this?

On the one hand, I've talked and written about being a survivor of childhood sexual abuse and two rapes as an adult. On the other hand, I've been complicit in keeping certain facts out of the public eye. The argument can be made that I kept those facts to myself to protect me, but part of that protection was based in fear. If I tell the unadulterated truth, how will that play out for me? I have no proof. I have only my memories and experiences, while the abusers have their own memories and experiences. Why should I be believed over them?  The answer is simple, I have so much more to lose by making accusations I cannot prove. People lie to make themselves look better, not worse.

Christine Blasey Ford moved heaven and earth to escape from the man who assaulted her. She reinvented herself in a far-off place and prayed she'd done enough to escape that night. When her safe haven was threatened, she considered moving to a FOREIGN country to escape, but instead, she decided to risk everything and save others by coming forward all while knowing full well it would shred her world. But she did it anyway.

She has moved from her home. Left her children, for their safety, and been emotionally eviscerated by people for POLITICAL gain. And they have no remorse. No compassion for her now or the 15-year-old girl from then. According to her critics, it can't have been that bad or it would have been investigated by the police. Really? What world are those people living in?

I want to name names and list offenses. None of my abusers are important people, but I don't name names because I'm afraid of backlash from family and friends. Because what if one of "them" decided to sue me for defamation? I can't afford that, and I HAVE NO PROOF!

How do we fix this? I don't know. Years ago, in Sunday school classes in small, rural churches, I was taught about the Golden Rule -- Do unto others as you would have them do unto you (Matthew 7:12). And I bought into it, believing other people did as well. But over the years I've been shown repeatedly that I was naive to believe that. I still treat other people the way I want to be treated -- with dignity, respect, empathy, and compassion. I assume the best on first meeting people. But it's getting harder to make that assumption.






Monday, March 12, 2018

The Simple Woman's Daybook ~ March 2018

FOR TODAY . . . March 12, 2018

Outside my window . . . I woke to snow and scattered cherry blossoms. That's how we roll in Tennessee.

I am thinking . . . about waiting. I am in a season of waiting right now. I've been fighting it for awhile, but recently I've shifted my focus and am trying to embrace it instead. 


waiting -- part of the process of leaving the petty life, the false life, the old life

I am thankful . . . that I have joined a new community this year. The Rule of Life is a group of committed individuals seeking to develop a more intentional practice of the spiritual disciplines. It is a blessing to have these like-minded people with whom to travel this year. #dovehouseministries

In the kitchen . . . last night we had barbecued pork chops, Japanese veggie blend, and  Celebration Blend potatoes. I love these little bags of specialty potatoes because I've never met a potato I didn't like.



I am creating . . . a corner to corner baby blanket in a lovely yarn of blended shades of pale pink, yellow, and white. 

I am going . . . to be at home all day! I'm hoping to get some ironing done and work on items to sell in the shop, Sweet House of Madness at Mercantile 615 (if you're in the Nashville area!) 

I am wondering . . . how best to organize all of the merchandise I'm amassing for the new shop. My basement is in disarray right now, and that tends to stress me out.

I am reading . . . well actually re-reading The Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown and reading When the Heart Waits by Sue Monk Kidd for the first time.



I am looking forward to . . . the coming spring and getting outside more and more. Walks with Millie -- more of a paseo (a slow, idle, leisurely walk or stroll).

I am hearing . . . the heat just clicked on and occasionally the wind chime outside my window.

Around the house . . . there are stacks. I've been organizing which leads to chaos before there order appears. 

I am praying . . . to know God's will and to have greater trust in His plan and timing.

One of my favorite things . . . talking with my children. We all went out to dinner last week for birthday and it was lovely sitting around talking, eating, and listening to their chatter.

A few plans for the rest of the week . . . a couple of meetings tomorrow, working on prepping items for the shop, and puttering around the house. I love to putter when the mood is right.

Here's a picture for thought I am sharing . . .
this is Millie! She came to live with me in May.
She's part chihuahua and part feist.

linking up with The Simple Woman

Sunday, March 11, 2018

My Yellow Room

I’m sitting in my yellow room typing, and I LOVE this yellow room. It makes me smile every time I walk into it. Sometimes I look up from my computer and just have to smile at the colors and the expressions of myself in this space. This room is me. Books, paper, dolls, stuffed animals, colors, pens, pencils, fabrics, textures. Millie has a bed next to my desk and she curls up to sleep by me while I write or jump from site to site on the internet.

It is not perfect, but then neither am I. A process is at work here, on the room and on myself. As trite and cliche as it seems, I hope to find myself in this room by typing on my computer while surrounded by light and color. To find joy and peace and tranquillité.