Thirty seven years in the park service and Bob was being forced into silence by a man who couldn't even find a decent hairdresser. Not today, Bob decided.
With a little help from one of the newest rangers, Bob got himself his own twitter feed. Let that cheetoh-fingered buffoon try to stop him, Bob was going to post every science fact he could before they shut him down.
Do you know how fast the polar caps are melting? Do you know how many bison are in Yellowstone park? Bob does. Bob read encyclopedias in the bathroom, or while staying out in the park campsites by himself.
The doors crashed open, men in suits walked in yelling for everyone to get down. Bob was in the bathroom reading his encyclopedia when he heard the ruckus. Not one second of hesitation, Bob was out the back door with that book tucked under his arm. His truck was parked just behind the building, but he could make it farther on foot if he set off into the trees.
Bob grabbed his hiking pack, already stuffed full of gear and food in anticipation of this turn of events. He knew the risks, he'd been prepping for most of his time with the park service. The Cold War prepared him for this, hardening his tastebuds to MREs. Bob knew he could survive in the woods far longer than city folk could keep hunting for him. He knew the other rangers would do their best to lead them on a goose chase while he lived comfortably among the trees.
Secure in his skills, proud of his rebellion, Bob quietly pushed through the brush behind the building and set off along a deer path. Let the hunt begin.
Thursday, January 26, 2017
Wednesday, January 6, 2016
Gun Crimes in America, An Epidemic
Mass shootings splash across the front pages of American media and many voices beg for an answer to end gun violence. To find a solution we need to understand where criminals get their guns, what kinds of crimes they are used in, and whether you have more to fear from your neighbor or a stranger.
Let's break down some statistics from the United States Department of Justice to help us work toward a solution that makes sense. Our main sources will be surveys of inmates from 1991-1997 and federally reported crime statistics.
Firstly let's remember that people are more likely to commit any crime if they are poor, uneducated, and surrounded by violence. The highest crime areas are often the poorest because people are struggling to survive, and a lack of education contributes by making it harder to escape poverty. Drugs and gang violence become a resort for many because joining a gang provides protection and selling drugs brings in income faster than any legal job they could acquire.
Males of any ethnicity who are under 25 and had less than a college education are the biggest group carrying guns while committing crimes.
Let's break down some statistics from the United States Department of Justice to help us work toward a solution that makes sense. Our main sources will be surveys of inmates from 1991-1997 and federally reported crime statistics.
Firstly let's remember that people are more likely to commit any crime if they are poor, uneducated, and surrounded by violence. The highest crime areas are often the poorest because people are struggling to survive, and a lack of education contributes by making it harder to escape poverty. Drugs and gang violence become a resort for many because joining a gang provides protection and selling drugs brings in income faster than any legal job they could acquire.
Males of any ethnicity who are under 25 and had less than a college education are the biggest group carrying guns while committing crimes.
Where do these men come from?
They are people who grew up with parents who abused drugs and/or alcohol. Their peers were engaging in illegal acts around them as they grew up.
Where
Urban areas are the most likely place for a homicide to occur. Why? Poverty levels are worse in big cities, with a lot of people packed into a much smaller area than suburbs or more rural locations. It's also easier to hide illegal activities such as illegal gun sales among a larger population.
How many?
The number of homicides in America has actually dropped off between 1990 and now. How do we account for the number of mass shootings and major gun homicides in the media?
Who?
To do this, we need to examine who the murderers really are. Is it some stranger in the night, breaking in to shoot you dead? The answer may shock you. The overwhelming majority of people killed in the last 30 years were killed by someone they know. For female victims it is most likely they will be killed by an intimate partner (husband/boyfriend) and for males it is most likely they will be murdered by a friend or acquaintance.
About half of murders are done by someone the victim knows personally. For minors, the likelihood of being killed by someone you know slowly lowers from birth until the teenage years.
However if the murder occurs during the commission of another felony, the most likely to die are the elderly because they are unable to defend themselves from an assailant.
Sadly, most young children are killed by a parent or friend of the family. Child murders often occur during custody battles or because the parent no longer wants their child. Most children under age 5 are killed by men, echoing the overall statistics for the population. Added to the previous chart, this means that the father of a child is the most likely to kill the child, or a male family friend.In fact, overall a male is astronomically more likely to murder someone than a female. But remember, not every man is a killer! These are just statistics from convicted violent offenders, this does not mean your friend or neighbor will kill you or your child.
About half of murders are done by someone the victim knows personally. For minors, the likelihood of being killed by someone you know slowly lowers from birth until the teenage years.
However if the murder occurs during the commission of another felony, the most likely to die are the elderly because they are unable to defend themselves from an assailant.
Sadly, most young children are killed by a parent or friend of the family. Child murders often occur during custody battles or because the parent no longer wants their child. Most children under age 5 are killed by men, echoing the overall statistics for the population. Added to the previous chart, this means that the father of a child is the most likely to kill the child, or a male family friend.In fact, overall a male is astronomically more likely to murder someone than a female. But remember, not every man is a killer! These are just statistics from convicted violent offenders, this does not mean your friend or neighbor will kill you or your child.
Race?
Is this a race issue? Is this about racial tension and aggression? Sometimes it is, but most often it's not a racial issue. Most violent crime is committed against someone of the same ethnic background. You're more likely to be killed by your neighbor's teenage son than someone of a different skin color walking through your neighborhood.
Weapon
Okay, so just how are these people killing other people? What weapons are they using?
Most people are killed by guns, especially able-bodied adults. But what type of guns are being used to kill people? Are they hunting rifles, hand guns, or automatic weapons?
Most people are killed by guns, especially able-bodied adults. But what type of guns are being used to kill people? Are they hunting rifles, hand guns, or automatic weapons?
Most violent offenders who have a gun are carrying around handguns. Why? They're easier to conceal! Simple as that. Yet we can still see that less of them are carrying weapons on them since the late 90's.
1994 is when the 5 day waiting period and background checks for handguns was voted on. 1998 the NICS background check system goes into effect. 1999 trigger locks are mandated for all new handguns, and background checks/waiting periods are extended to firearms sold at gun shows following the Columbine shooting in April of that year.
Where did they get the guns?
So if we already have laws about this, why are we still talking about closing a gun show loophole? Are they getting them from gun shows?
Most criminals who had a firearm did not just walk out and buy it. Not at a gun show, not at a store. Their weapons either came from people they knew, or they were stolen/illegally purchased. Let me reiterate those numbers for you, 1.4% of semiautomatic handguns that were carried by criminals were bought at a gun show. Yes, that gun show they have been touting all over the news and people are getting all riled up over. You are about 25 times more likely to get shot by someone whose brother gave him a gun than by someone who bought it at a gun show.
Most criminals who had a firearm did not just walk out and buy it. Not at a gun show, not at a store. Their weapons either came from people they knew, or they were stolen/illegally purchased. Let me reiterate those numbers for you, 1.4% of semiautomatic handguns that were carried by criminals were bought at a gun show. Yes, that gun show they have been touting all over the news and people are getting all riled up over. You are about 25 times more likely to get shot by someone whose brother gave him a gun than by someone who bought it at a gun show.
Let that sink in for a second.
25:1 odds.
25 times more likely. You are 25 times more likely to be shot by someone you know who got their gun from a friend than someone you know who bought a gun from a gun show.
Think about that the next time you give someone a gun.
25:1 odds.
25 times more likely. You are 25 times more likely to be shot by someone you know who got their gun from a friend than someone you know who bought a gun from a gun show.
Think about that the next time you give someone a gun.
Think about who YOU love that they may hurt!
So what types of criminals are these, who are buying guns illegally or receiving them from people they know? Are they sick in the head?
Half of these people were previously in jail for a serious crime. Half of them. Many were still on probation or parole, and felons aren't supposed to even have guns! Many of them were drug users.
What about their mental health? Only about 10% have ever been in an inpatient mental health facility. Even less if they were in federal incarceration. This is NOT a mental health issue!
People who are being treated and show no signs of violence toward themselves or others are not likely to murder anyone.
Most violent gun-toting criminals are not insane. They are mentally healthy, competent, and someone gave them a gun.
People who are being treated and show no signs of violence toward themselves or others are not likely to murder anyone.
Most violent gun-toting criminals are not insane. They are mentally healthy, competent, and someone gave them a gun.
The vast majority of them were also U.S. citizens, and virtually none of them were people kicked out of the military for bad conduct. We're not going after veterans with PTSD here, people.
But what about these mass shootings on the news!!!
So let's address mass shootings. This is becoming a huge, HUGE problem for the United States of America. What percentage of gun homicides are these?
Most shootings that are not one person killing one person... involve just two victims. A mother and father, siblings, children, wife and child, spouse and lover, etc.
Mass shootings are not a huge percentage of homicides committed, but they stick in our memory. Seeing so many lives taken at one time hurts us to our core and makes us hug our loved ones closer.
Please tell us who's doing this!
So who is committing these murders? We know they're overwhelmingly male. But this next statistic will horrify you.
Most homicides with multiple victims are committed by those 25 and under, notably teenage boys.
14-17 years old, taking the lives of two or more people by shooting them dead with a handgun.
The worst part is, most of their victims are also under 25.
Teenagers cannot legally purchase firearms. A person must be 18 to buy a rifle or shotgun and 21 or older to buy a handgun.
Who is supplying them with these guns?
Who is supplying them with these guns?
And these males, these boys, are poor, under-educated, and from troubled homes.
So what do we do?
How do we keep firearms out of the hands of these young men? How do we keep them from killing?
If they were educated, well-fed, and had a way out of the inner city, they wouldn't be killing each other in droves.
If people stopped making guns accessible to people they know have a history of violent behavior, even convictions for it, we would see less murders.
If people stopped making guns accessible to people they know have a history of violent behavior, even convictions for it, we would see less murders.
If people pointed out domestic violence and got men arrested for assault when they hurt someone, less women and families would be murdered.
Why do they do it?
Read biographies and autobiographies of violent offenders, and it's a real eye-opener. I have. I've read dozens. They overwhelmingly have two main things in common.
1. Most of them were subjects of abuse by a parent or family friend, which matches the statistics for how often children under 5 are killed by an adult male in their life. We need to stop the cycle of abuse that causes young males to lash out and hurt others.
1. Most of them were subjects of abuse by a parent or family friend, which matches the statistics for how often children under 5 are killed by an adult male in their life. We need to stop the cycle of abuse that causes young males to lash out and hurt others.
2. Most of them did not feel connected to the society around them. Many lacked friends, or were part of gang violence. Many did drugs. They lacked proper socialization and attachments to the bigger world around them. They don't know how to process their emotions in a healthy way, or how to express anger without resorting to violence. We did this. We as a society tell boys not to cry, not to express themselves in a safe way. WE NEED TO STOP THIS.
What can I do personally?
If you see someone being violent, don't let them get away with it. Report assaults, report sexual abuse. Don't be a bystander. They may be someone you love, but we already saw up above that someone we know is the most likely person to kill us. Get them stopped before they go that far!
Don't purchase a gun for someone else because they can't pass a background check. Don't purchase one for someone you know can be violent.
Do encourage young males, and females, to express themselves in healthy ways and use words to express themselves.
Listen to teens who have trouble at home. If you can, help get them out if they are being abused.
Do encourage young males, and females, to express themselves in healthy ways and use words to express themselves.
Listen to teens who have trouble at home. If you can, help get them out if they are being abused.
Keep firearms locked up, don't let someone know the code if they can't be trusted to keep it secret. Especially don't allow males between 14 and 25 to have unsupervised access to guns you purchased.
What should the government do?
Stricter penalties need to happen for people who purchase a firearm and then give it to someone who uses it in a crime.
Penalties need to happen for people who leave a firearm unsecured that is then used in a crime or accidental shooting. Guns safely locked in a safe or lockbox not included, unless the owner negligently shared the combination with a minor or someone they knew had violent tendencies.
Someone caught carrying a firearm that is traced and found to be stolen should be given heavier penalties.
Someone caught carrying a firearm that is traced and found to be stolen should be given heavier penalties.
Think of any other things the government could legally do? Share in a comment.
Links:
Firearms and Crime Statistics - Bureau of Justice Statistics
https://www.nraila.org/articles/20040324/citizen-s-guide-to-federal-firearms-law
Monday, October 6, 2014
Why me?
I know this is a phrase we hear a lot when people are whining. Why me? What did I do?
In this case, I'm wondering why two of the people I loved most have completely turned their backs on me and walked out of my life after years of supporting and loving them. I am, quite frankly, heartbroken.
First was my best friend. She started dating someone while I was out at school. Someone she knew I wouldn't approve of because he didn't financially support himself, had a criminal record, and engaged in illegal drug use. She knew I wouldn't think he was good enough for my 4.0, crazy-smart, incredibly pretty best friend. And she was right. However, even after running off with him and not telling anyone in her family that she was leaving, like a teenage lovesick girl... I still tried to maintain a relationship with her.
I was the one there for her when she needed me. I was there when her boyfriend walked out and didn't visit for the end of her pregnancy or the first month of raising her daughter alone. Then, the baby daddy waltzes back into her life and suddenly her best friend of over twenty years means nothing again. Nothing. I was only the one to hold her child so she could get a nap in after staying up all night, even though I'd just gotten off of working 3rd shift and really needed sleep myself. The one who repeatedly gave her rides places, made sure she had everything she needed, and threw her a baby shower. But apparently years of friendship and supporting her emotionally mean nothing now that he's back in the picture, because he despises me.
Sorry, I guess, for thinking my best friend deserved someone who could financially support their child, and doesn't take off for months at a time. But this is only the first abandonment I've experienced in the last year.
The second was my sister. The one who would wake up when I had night terrors and calm me back to sleep when I was little. The one who used to play games and make forts with me. She said even as she cut the rest of our family out of her life that she still wanted a relationship with me. And then, just like that, she blocks me on facebook and stops contacting me, even though I'm only a town away.
She asked me to be her maid of honor at her wedding before the split. Now, I sit and look at her announcing she just got married. A wedding I wasn't invited to. And pictures of her baby girl that mutual friends are sharing with me. A baby I will never get to hold.
And I wonder what I did to lose both of these women who were so close to my heart. People I put time, love, and caring into because they were so dear to me. What did I do to be abandoned by them?
Sometimes I wonder if my mental illness pushed them away. That maybe my months of depression just got to be too much for them. Maybe they got tired of the pain I tried to hide, knowing I may never be able to marry or have kids because of my illness.
I wonder if I was too much of a burden for them. If maybe, I'm really a burden on everyone and they are mostly too polite to admit that their lives would be easier without me. My best friend and sister certainly appear to be happier now.
I really hope they are happy. I only wanted the best for both of them. I love them. I miss them.
In this case, I'm wondering why two of the people I loved most have completely turned their backs on me and walked out of my life after years of supporting and loving them. I am, quite frankly, heartbroken.
First was my best friend. She started dating someone while I was out at school. Someone she knew I wouldn't approve of because he didn't financially support himself, had a criminal record, and engaged in illegal drug use. She knew I wouldn't think he was good enough for my 4.0, crazy-smart, incredibly pretty best friend. And she was right. However, even after running off with him and not telling anyone in her family that she was leaving, like a teenage lovesick girl... I still tried to maintain a relationship with her.
I was the one there for her when she needed me. I was there when her boyfriend walked out and didn't visit for the end of her pregnancy or the first month of raising her daughter alone. Then, the baby daddy waltzes back into her life and suddenly her best friend of over twenty years means nothing again. Nothing. I was only the one to hold her child so she could get a nap in after staying up all night, even though I'd just gotten off of working 3rd shift and really needed sleep myself. The one who repeatedly gave her rides places, made sure she had everything she needed, and threw her a baby shower. But apparently years of friendship and supporting her emotionally mean nothing now that he's back in the picture, because he despises me.
Sorry, I guess, for thinking my best friend deserved someone who could financially support their child, and doesn't take off for months at a time. But this is only the first abandonment I've experienced in the last year.
The second was my sister. The one who would wake up when I had night terrors and calm me back to sleep when I was little. The one who used to play games and make forts with me. She said even as she cut the rest of our family out of her life that she still wanted a relationship with me. And then, just like that, she blocks me on facebook and stops contacting me, even though I'm only a town away.
She asked me to be her maid of honor at her wedding before the split. Now, I sit and look at her announcing she just got married. A wedding I wasn't invited to. And pictures of her baby girl that mutual friends are sharing with me. A baby I will never get to hold.
And I wonder what I did to lose both of these women who were so close to my heart. People I put time, love, and caring into because they were so dear to me. What did I do to be abandoned by them?
Sometimes I wonder if my mental illness pushed them away. That maybe my months of depression just got to be too much for them. Maybe they got tired of the pain I tried to hide, knowing I may never be able to marry or have kids because of my illness.
I wonder if I was too much of a burden for them. If maybe, I'm really a burden on everyone and they are mostly too polite to admit that their lives would be easier without me. My best friend and sister certainly appear to be happier now.
I really hope they are happy. I only wanted the best for both of them. I love them. I miss them.
Suddenly the Victim Emerges
I've been doing pretty well with my depression and PTSD. I've mostly been sleeping through the night, and have been dating a guy who has really helped me overcome my physical fear responses... very cautiously. I felt great!
...until the other night. The other night I was at the gym, and ran into the guy who assaulted me when I was 15. I couldn't even say anything, because suddenly I was doing my best not to hyperventilate or bolt out of the room like a frightened animal.
I started shaking. My breath wouldn't get into my lungs! I felt like I was going to throw up. We soon left, and as soon as we were in the parking lot I told my mother who I'd seen there. She did her best to calm me with food and a short drive in the car, but when we got home I was still anxious and shaking. I was on edge for hours afterward, and couldn't settle down enough to sleep.
Several friends, my boyfriend, and my mother all worked on me to help me calm down. Eventually I was able to relax. However, this got me thinking...
Am I still a scared victim, after all this time? I thought I was better...
The truth is, what happened to me left literal physical scars. They're invisible to the naked eye because they're lesions in my amygdala. That's a part of the brain that often shows damage after severe emotional or physical trauma. That's right! Traumatic experiences can leave part of your brain damaged. Right now I'm trying to combat that damage by seeking therapy again (this time from a middle-aged woman) and by meditation. Sounds hokey? Scientific studies have shown significant improvement in depression, memory issues, and PTSD patients due to regular meditation.
In fact, through nightly meditation just before bed I've been sleeping 6-10 hours a night regularly for the last two months. I was sleeping 3-6 a night. This improvement has been amazingly helpful to my general emotional state and has also successfully lowered my anxiety and stress levels.
But right now, we're going to focus on my apparent relapse. That's all I can think of to call it. When I saw my assailant, I regressed to a terrified 15-year-old girl who desperately needed a good cry. I was terrified. Despite the fact that my attacker had gained quite a lot of weight and I had gained about 30 pounds of solid muscle, I was still scared he would overpower and hurt me. There is no logic when it comes to fear. Your fear response kicks in, whacks the part of your brain that controls it, and you're suddenly terrified even though you logically know you could completely beat your former assailant to a bloody pulp.
Despite the fact that I'm very confidently muscular and trained in several different forms of armed combat, I was still scared that this man would harm me. There were other people all around us. Large men who I'm sure would come to my assistance should anything happen. My own mother who would be more than happy to hurt him for what he's done to me psychologically. ...and yet I wanted to curl up in the fetal position and bawl like a small child.
How much more therapy will I need before I can face that fear and back it down? How much longer will I have to live in fear? Will I have to move away from my home forever for fear of ever running into him? These are the ongoing things I have to deal with, even with my PTSD and insomnia getting under control.
I don't know how to solve this. I don't know how to make this better. I'm scared, and I don't know where to turn except to God for comfort and my loved ones for support. Hopefully it will be enough.
...until the other night. The other night I was at the gym, and ran into the guy who assaulted me when I was 15. I couldn't even say anything, because suddenly I was doing my best not to hyperventilate or bolt out of the room like a frightened animal.
I started shaking. My breath wouldn't get into my lungs! I felt like I was going to throw up. We soon left, and as soon as we were in the parking lot I told my mother who I'd seen there. She did her best to calm me with food and a short drive in the car, but when we got home I was still anxious and shaking. I was on edge for hours afterward, and couldn't settle down enough to sleep.
Several friends, my boyfriend, and my mother all worked on me to help me calm down. Eventually I was able to relax. However, this got me thinking...
Am I still a scared victim, after all this time? I thought I was better...
The truth is, what happened to me left literal physical scars. They're invisible to the naked eye because they're lesions in my amygdala. That's a part of the brain that often shows damage after severe emotional or physical trauma. That's right! Traumatic experiences can leave part of your brain damaged. Right now I'm trying to combat that damage by seeking therapy again (this time from a middle-aged woman) and by meditation. Sounds hokey? Scientific studies have shown significant improvement in depression, memory issues, and PTSD patients due to regular meditation.
In fact, through nightly meditation just before bed I've been sleeping 6-10 hours a night regularly for the last two months. I was sleeping 3-6 a night. This improvement has been amazingly helpful to my general emotional state and has also successfully lowered my anxiety and stress levels.
But right now, we're going to focus on my apparent relapse. That's all I can think of to call it. When I saw my assailant, I regressed to a terrified 15-year-old girl who desperately needed a good cry. I was terrified. Despite the fact that my attacker had gained quite a lot of weight and I had gained about 30 pounds of solid muscle, I was still scared he would overpower and hurt me. There is no logic when it comes to fear. Your fear response kicks in, whacks the part of your brain that controls it, and you're suddenly terrified even though you logically know you could completely beat your former assailant to a bloody pulp.
Despite the fact that I'm very confidently muscular and trained in several different forms of armed combat, I was still scared that this man would harm me. There were other people all around us. Large men who I'm sure would come to my assistance should anything happen. My own mother who would be more than happy to hurt him for what he's done to me psychologically. ...and yet I wanted to curl up in the fetal position and bawl like a small child.
How much more therapy will I need before I can face that fear and back it down? How much longer will I have to live in fear? Will I have to move away from my home forever for fear of ever running into him? These are the ongoing things I have to deal with, even with my PTSD and insomnia getting under control.
I don't know how to solve this. I don't know how to make this better. I'm scared, and I don't know where to turn except to God for comfort and my loved ones for support. Hopefully it will be enough.
Monday, February 17, 2014
Why I like rap music.
As an LDS member, for years now, I've had other mormons ask me how I can "stand" rap music. It's easy, really.... the same way I "stand" every other genre of music I listen to. It's called ENJOYING IT.
I've heard them say things like: "How can you listen to that crap?", "How can you not think it's horrible?", or "Ugh, I despise rap, why do you even listen to it? The lyrics are so awful!".
Well, sorry to burst your bubble, but not all rap music is full of cuss words, booty, and alcohol references. I mean I still listen to some songs that do have that kind of stuff in the lyrics, but there is certainly plenty that doesn't include it whatsoever. Dismissing an entire genre of music because you think it's all "dirty" is ignorant and juvenile. Now, hang on, I'm not saying you aren't allowed to dislike it!
You are perfectly within your rights to dislike music because it's too fast, too loud, too screechy, you don't like the beat, etc. There are plenty of legitimate reasons why people are allowed to dislike one genre or another. However, lyrics should not be the main reason, because song lyrics are as diverse as the people who write them.
And I bet you're still wondering, why do I like rap so much?
Because they can talk so blastedly fast.
Seriously. That's the entire reason I started listening to anything in the genre. They talk fast, and it really impressed me.
Why? Because, despite the fact that I can silently read rather quickly, with a 90-100% comprehension rate... I actually have a really terrible stutter when I try to read aloud or speak too quickly.
I know, shocking! Some people who have known me for years still don't know this about me. You know why? Because I make a concerted effort to never have to read aloud in front of anyone. Ever. Never ever ever. It embarrasses the crap out of me and I'm ashamed of it.
School was a nightmare for me, because I never knew when I'd be called on to read out loud in front of the whole class. I sometimes spent hours alone in my room, reading my books out loud in an effort to improve my stutter. It has helped somewhat, but I still have a problem with it.
Honestly, I'm kind of horrified by the idea of having to read books to the kids I hope to have... every... single... night. :(
My children would hopefully not laugh at me, but I'm still mortified by the thought of it.
So listening to rap music, for me, is really awesome... because they do something that I could never in a million years hope to be capable of doing. I admire their talent and their effort. Some people don't see it as anything impressive, but to me it's one of the coolest talents in the world to have.
I've heard them say things like: "How can you listen to that crap?", "How can you not think it's horrible?", or "Ugh, I despise rap, why do you even listen to it? The lyrics are so awful!".
Well, sorry to burst your bubble, but not all rap music is full of cuss words, booty, and alcohol references. I mean I still listen to some songs that do have that kind of stuff in the lyrics, but there is certainly plenty that doesn't include it whatsoever. Dismissing an entire genre of music because you think it's all "dirty" is ignorant and juvenile. Now, hang on, I'm not saying you aren't allowed to dislike it!
You are perfectly within your rights to dislike music because it's too fast, too loud, too screechy, you don't like the beat, etc. There are plenty of legitimate reasons why people are allowed to dislike one genre or another. However, lyrics should not be the main reason, because song lyrics are as diverse as the people who write them.
And I bet you're still wondering, why do I like rap so much?
Because they can talk so blastedly fast.
Seriously. That's the entire reason I started listening to anything in the genre. They talk fast, and it really impressed me.
Why? Because, despite the fact that I can silently read rather quickly, with a 90-100% comprehension rate... I actually have a really terrible stutter when I try to read aloud or speak too quickly.
I know, shocking! Some people who have known me for years still don't know this about me. You know why? Because I make a concerted effort to never have to read aloud in front of anyone. Ever. Never ever ever. It embarrasses the crap out of me and I'm ashamed of it.
School was a nightmare for me, because I never knew when I'd be called on to read out loud in front of the whole class. I sometimes spent hours alone in my room, reading my books out loud in an effort to improve my stutter. It has helped somewhat, but I still have a problem with it.
Honestly, I'm kind of horrified by the idea of having to read books to the kids I hope to have... every... single... night. :(
My children would hopefully not laugh at me, but I'm still mortified by the thought of it.
So listening to rap music, for me, is really awesome... because they do something that I could never in a million years hope to be capable of doing. I admire their talent and their effort. Some people don't see it as anything impressive, but to me it's one of the coolest talents in the world to have.
Saturday, January 4, 2014
Are you feeling SAD for the holidays?
Winter comes, and so do the holidays. Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years, Valentine's Day and St. Patrick's Day. All of them involve eating or consumption of alcohol in some manner. They can leave people feeling stressed, depressed and fat. But is it all their fault? Could it be that those symptoms aren't due to holiday madness, but to an actual chemical imbalance going on in the brain?
Do you find yourself growing more withdrawn, depressed or apathetic as winter waxes onward? Is your energy level lower than it was during the summer? Have you gained weight steadily over the winter, and not just immediately after holiday meals? Then you may be suffering from SAD or Seasonal Affective Disorder.
People often make excuses for themselves, saying that they have spent a lot of time out of their homes already today, and deserve to stay home and relax. Sometimes they decide that eating one more cookie won't hurt, because they worked so hard to prepare that meal. Or it's snowy outside, and why should they leave their nice comfy houses? This is okay, usually. If it becomes a pattern, and you find yourself leaving home less and less often, it may be developing into seasonal depression.
Do you find yourself growing more withdrawn, depressed or apathetic as winter waxes onward? Is your energy level lower than it was during the summer? Have you gained weight steadily over the winter, and not just immediately after holiday meals? Then you may be suffering from SAD or Seasonal Affective Disorder.
What is SAD?
SAD is a seasonal form of clinical depression. It has the same symptoms as clinical depression, but it usually lasts only for the winter season. Unfortunately, it can sometimes develop into full-blown depression.How can you tell if you are experiencing depression?
You will feel hopeless, apathetic and tired. Loss of concentration and interest in normal activities is also a good indicator. If you find yourself withdrawing from social situations or making excuses to stay home alone, you may be experiencing SAD. Another good indicator is an increase in eating and weight gain not directly linked to a holiday you celebrate.People often make excuses for themselves, saying that they have spent a lot of time out of their homes already today, and deserve to stay home and relax. Sometimes they decide that eating one more cookie won't hurt, because they worked so hard to prepare that meal. Or it's snowy outside, and why should they leave their nice comfy houses? This is okay, usually. If it becomes a pattern, and you find yourself leaving home less and less often, it may be developing into seasonal depression.
How can it be treated?
Like most depression, drugs and therapy can help, but unlike normal depression you are more often capable of treating this yourself by following these simple steps:
Sleep seven to ten hours every night. Sleep just enough to feel well-rested, but not excessively. Excessive sleeping is feeding into the depression, not helping you cure yourself of it.
Eat a steady, balanced diet. This can be difficult over the holidays, but just making sure you're getting enough fruits and vegetables can make a huge difference. Foods high in Vitamin D are extremely helpful, as SAD is partially caused by a lack of the sunlight that helps you produce it yourself. Keeping your leafy greens and veggies coming in will help you maintain healthy levels of nutrients and vitamins. Keep this in mind as you go back for another serving, and plop some more spinach or carrots on your plate.
Another great way of treating yourself at home is to get a light box and do light therapy.Light boxes of an adequate emission level are available online at Amazon, or from other stores for less than $100. Do some research, you might be able to find them for a very good price at a store near you. The light box should start making a serious dent in that depression within three to four weeks. If it isn't working for you, go seek a professional.
Finally, meditation is a great way of decreasing your stress and treating depression. Cognitive meditation especially can help improve mood and memory problems as it helps your amygdala.
Good luck this winter. Keep yourself healthy in mind, body, and spirit.
Monday, April 15, 2013
False Words
Sometimes they are peers, or elders, or respected friends.
They deny God exists. They tell you that He does not love you. They tell you that truth isn't desirable because it can hurt. They make you feel worthless, or lost, or alone, because you have the things that they desire. Things like love, honesty, and faith.
They make good things like morality and caring about others seem as if they are foolish or terrible. These people are vain, proud, uncaring, and deceitful. They have become as Peter said, the "servants of corruption". And the hardest thing about it is, they often don't even realize they are doing it.
Sometimes all it takes is a small comment. The undermining of your self-esteem, or the claim that God is punishing your loved one or letting them suffer from illness or grief. The idea that God is vengeful and would purposely inflict pain upon anyone is false. He is the relief from all pain! It is when we are disobedient, ignore him, and try to stand on our own that we suffer most.
If anyone's words seem to undermine your faith in God, or make you question your strongly held love for your Savior, then that person is a false teacher.
Let me make this abundantly clear: God loves YOU. He cares for you with every part of his being. You are his. Every trial that you suffer through is one that will mold, define, and grow you. He doesn't like watching you hurt, and would take much of the burden of pain from you if you let him. He can even do this by sending wonderful people into your life to listen to and comfort you. His love can be a balm to your soul; a safe haven from worldly pain.
Turning away from God... listening to these falsehoods from Satan that convince you that he doesn't love you... they are all a trap. They are dragging you down into the mire after you have worked so hard to clean yourself free of the mud that lies there.
Sometimes life seems so very hard. You just want to give up, and the voices all around you are telling you that you cannot possibly succeed because they have already failed. You have already risen above the dark muck of the world and are on a path to safety, when those voices try to tug you down again. If they succeed, and you succumb to the darkness again, then you will be lost. God can only pull you out if you keep reaching for him. So don't give up!
Christ's atonement can free you of your sins, but only if you allow him to. He will help you turn from addiction and habitual sins, but if you keep turning back to them you will fail. If you mess up, however, you CAN return to Christ's loving arms. He will ALWAYS have them stretched out towards you. Don't forget that. And getting a few splashes of mud on you when you are trying to struggle free of the mire is expected. You might even fall back in by accident when you are struggling so hard to pull yourself out. Just remember that you can ALWAYS get back up and try again.
Don't give up. God's here for you. I'm here for you. You can do it!
They deny God exists. They tell you that He does not love you. They tell you that truth isn't desirable because it can hurt. They make you feel worthless, or lost, or alone, because you have the things that they desire. Things like love, honesty, and faith.
They make good things like morality and caring about others seem as if they are foolish or terrible. These people are vain, proud, uncaring, and deceitful. They have become as Peter said, the "servants of corruption". And the hardest thing about it is, they often don't even realize they are doing it.
Sometimes all it takes is a small comment. The undermining of your self-esteem, or the claim that God is punishing your loved one or letting them suffer from illness or grief. The idea that God is vengeful and would purposely inflict pain upon anyone is false. He is the relief from all pain! It is when we are disobedient, ignore him, and try to stand on our own that we suffer most.
If anyone's words seem to undermine your faith in God, or make you question your strongly held love for your Savior, then that person is a false teacher.
Let me make this abundantly clear: God loves YOU. He cares for you with every part of his being. You are his. Every trial that you suffer through is one that will mold, define, and grow you. He doesn't like watching you hurt, and would take much of the burden of pain from you if you let him. He can even do this by sending wonderful people into your life to listen to and comfort you. His love can be a balm to your soul; a safe haven from worldly pain.
Turning away from God... listening to these falsehoods from Satan that convince you that he doesn't love you... they are all a trap. They are dragging you down into the mire after you have worked so hard to clean yourself free of the mud that lies there.
Sometimes life seems so very hard. You just want to give up, and the voices all around you are telling you that you cannot possibly succeed because they have already failed. You have already risen above the dark muck of the world and are on a path to safety, when those voices try to tug you down again. If they succeed, and you succumb to the darkness again, then you will be lost. God can only pull you out if you keep reaching for him. So don't give up!
Christ's atonement can free you of your sins, but only if you allow him to. He will help you turn from addiction and habitual sins, but if you keep turning back to them you will fail. If you mess up, however, you CAN return to Christ's loving arms. He will ALWAYS have them stretched out towards you. Don't forget that. And getting a few splashes of mud on you when you are trying to struggle free of the mire is expected. You might even fall back in by accident when you are struggling so hard to pull yourself out. Just remember that you can ALWAYS get back up and try again.
Don't give up. God's here for you. I'm here for you. You can do it!
Saturday, April 6, 2013
Faith, without Works, is DEAD
So you say that so long as you tell God that you believe in him, that he'll accept you into Heaven? Even if you ignore Christ's entire ministry where he tells you to love and serve your neighbor? So basically you think Christ lied every time he told you to serve your fellow man? You deny Christ's entire ministry, call him a liar, and deny his divinity?
No. Christ clearly taught that works were necessary to show God your true devotion. You will be resurrected by the Grace of God, but works prove your heart and the words that you speak. In James chapter 2 he states that simply telling your neighbor to be warm and fed is not enough. You have to sit him down by your fire and feed him, otherwise you are not following Christ's teachings. The best way to teach God's gospel is by being an example of a disciple in all of your actions. You can't say "love your neighbor" on one hand and then ignore your actual neighbors. That makes you a HYPOCRITE.
I will show my faith BY MY ACTIONS. My neighbors will not go hungry while I genuflect before God in an empty church, or talk loudly about how much I love Christ on facebook. Throughout the Bible God tests his prophets and disciples by putting them in situations where they have to CHOOSE to act. The Good Samaritan showed by his actions that he was more righteous than the men who passed by him who had fallen. Abraham was called to sacrifice his son Isaac. He didn't just say "I sacrifice my son to your will, oh God!" he actually took him up to the mountain and prepared to sacrifice him!
Matthew 7:21 says "Not every one that saith unto me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven; but he that doeth the will of my Father which is in heaven." Clearly we don't just get into heaven by saying we take upon us Christ's name. We actually have to show we are becoming like Christ by our actions.
In chapter 19 Jesus tells a man that he must keep the commandments in order to enter into eternal life. How much clearer can you possibly get than from the mouth of the son of GOD? The biggest problem here is that people read things like the "New Bible" and other translations that lose much of the meaning that can be found in the earliest versions of the Bible. The more times you translate something, the more meaning you lose.
In Ephesians 2 we're told to walk in good works. In Revelations 20 it says that we will be judged out of the books that hold a record of all of our works. This makes more sense if you are mormon and understand that there are different levels to heaven, and even though everyone will be resurrected, that your works will determine what level of heaven you get sent to.
Unfortunately most Christians will not accept or even listen to scriptures from the Book of Mormon, but if you can use 2nd Nephi 25:23.m It states that we are saved by grace after all that we can do. We believe wholeheartedly in Grace, but we believe that we MUST live righteously and serve others as Christ taught. If someone refers to my religion as not Christian, I pity them. They don't understand Christ's own teachings if they say that. WE accept Christ as our savior. We know that his grace is the only way we can be saved. But we ALSO know that we must live by the commandments God has given us and live up to his expectations in order to receive that Grace.
No. Christ clearly taught that works were necessary to show God your true devotion. You will be resurrected by the Grace of God, but works prove your heart and the words that you speak. In James chapter 2 he states that simply telling your neighbor to be warm and fed is not enough. You have to sit him down by your fire and feed him, otherwise you are not following Christ's teachings. The best way to teach God's gospel is by being an example of a disciple in all of your actions. You can't say "love your neighbor" on one hand and then ignore your actual neighbors. That makes you a HYPOCRITE.
I will show my faith BY MY ACTIONS. My neighbors will not go hungry while I genuflect before God in an empty church, or talk loudly about how much I love Christ on facebook. Throughout the Bible God tests his prophets and disciples by putting them in situations where they have to CHOOSE to act. The Good Samaritan showed by his actions that he was more righteous than the men who passed by him who had fallen. Abraham was called to sacrifice his son Isaac. He didn't just say "I sacrifice my son to your will, oh God!" he actually took him up to the mountain and prepared to sacrifice him!
Matthew 7:21 says "Not every one that saith unto me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven; but he that doeth the will of my Father which is in heaven." Clearly we don't just get into heaven by saying we take upon us Christ's name. We actually have to show we are becoming like Christ by our actions.
In chapter 19 Jesus tells a man that he must keep the commandments in order to enter into eternal life. How much clearer can you possibly get than from the mouth of the son of GOD? The biggest problem here is that people read things like the "New Bible" and other translations that lose much of the meaning that can be found in the earliest versions of the Bible. The more times you translate something, the more meaning you lose.
In Ephesians 2 we're told to walk in good works. In Revelations 20 it says that we will be judged out of the books that hold a record of all of our works. This makes more sense if you are mormon and understand that there are different levels to heaven, and even though everyone will be resurrected, that your works will determine what level of heaven you get sent to.
Unfortunately most Christians will not accept or even listen to scriptures from the Book of Mormon, but if you can use 2nd Nephi 25:23.m It states that we are saved by grace after all that we can do. We believe wholeheartedly in Grace, but we believe that we MUST live righteously and serve others as Christ taught. If someone refers to my religion as not Christian, I pity them. They don't understand Christ's own teachings if they say that. WE accept Christ as our savior. We know that his grace is the only way we can be saved. But we ALSO know that we must live by the commandments God has given us and live up to his expectations in order to receive that Grace.
Hebrews 13: How we should control our own actions.
In Hebrews 13 we are taught to greet strangers kindly and even to bring them into our homes, because we never know when it might be someone sent to us from God.
Those that are "in bonds" should be remembered consistently, as if we were there with them. Those around us who suffer should be cared for as if it were ourselves who were experiencing the suffering, and we should have compassion accordingly.
Marriage is considered an honorable thing, to be treated as extremely sacred. Anyone who breaks those sacred bonds or hurts a family by their actions will be judged of God.
We should be content with the things we have been given, because God will be there for us and provide for us. Coveting isn't worthwhile because they aren't things we even need, so why waste the energy?
Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever. He will never go back on his word, or fail to love us. We are sanctified by his blood, and by his sacrifice for us.
We should submit humbly to those who are given the ability to rule over us. However, if those who are ruling us do not follow the teachings of God, we should uphold God's law in all things before any laws of mortal men.
Paul asked us to pray for the leaders of the church in their journeys, and we should keep this in mind even today. We should pray for these men and women who lead the church and have dominion over us to protect us because they are our first line of defense.
Those that are "in bonds" should be remembered consistently, as if we were there with them. Those around us who suffer should be cared for as if it were ourselves who were experiencing the suffering, and we should have compassion accordingly.
Marriage is considered an honorable thing, to be treated as extremely sacred. Anyone who breaks those sacred bonds or hurts a family by their actions will be judged of God.
We should be content with the things we have been given, because God will be there for us and provide for us. Coveting isn't worthwhile because they aren't things we even need, so why waste the energy?
Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever. He will never go back on his word, or fail to love us. We are sanctified by his blood, and by his sacrifice for us.
We should submit humbly to those who are given the ability to rule over us. However, if those who are ruling us do not follow the teachings of God, we should uphold God's law in all things before any laws of mortal men.
Paul asked us to pray for the leaders of the church in their journeys, and we should keep this in mind even today. We should pray for these men and women who lead the church and have dominion over us to protect us because they are our first line of defense.
Saturday, March 30, 2013
Solutions in the Scriptures
Are we too focused on petty things? Do they take up too much of our time every day? Are we humble in our everyday dealings, or do we look down on the people around us?
Sometimes it feels as though we just get so caught up in the words people say that we forget their actions. We become offended by the littlest things, and ignore the kind things the same people have done for us. You don't always see people's inner thoughts through their words because words can be misconstrued or misspoken. We can see the core of their heart by their actions.
We need to stop complaining about the things that aren't going perfectly right in our lives, and instead focus on the things that are going right or are within our control.
As disciples of Christ we lose sight of this, partly because our testimonies of Christ are not ingrained deeply enough in our hearts. Often this is because we have based them upon the beliefs of our parents or heroes. The best way to grow and strengthen your testimony is to research all of the arguments that combat your testimony before they ever enter your life. Know where you stand. Read the scriptures and pray to know where God wants you to stand. If you know exactly what you believe, and why, then Satan has no way to break down your testimony from the outside. The problem with this is if you allow it to grow weak, or do not put sufficient time into strengthening it. If this occurs, then you become vulnerable to the whisperings of the devil. He begins to entice you to question those beliefs you held so sure only a year or two before. Don't give him a foothold.
If your biggest obstacle to your testimony is the people who say that they love you, such as your family, ponder your options. Sometimes they are against your faith because they genuinely misunderstand it. Have an open and honest discussion with them about your beliefs, and how they correspond to their own. At least in the case of my own family members, this has relieved tension enough to lay a foundation for their loved ones to later accept their beliefs and not persecute or disown them. If your family seems completely against your beliefs, you need to ponder whether you need them or God more in your life. If you tell them unequivocally that you will choose God before them any day of the week, then they may come around when they realize that it isn't just a passing fancy. And sometimes, you just have to accept that by choosing God over your loved ones that you will lose them. If this is the case, trust me when I say that they never loved you adequately in the first place if such a thing as your religious choices caused them to leave you. God will replace them in your life with far more loving and caring people.
You have to have a testimony of Christ completely within yourself, and not based upon anyone else's. It needs to be freestanding and independent. If your testimony is rooted anywhere outside of your own heart, and not rooted deeply, then Satan will do anything and everything he can to destroy it. The sad part is, you will help him without ever intending to if you don't work to strengthen it constantly.
By studying and applying the words of Christ you will grow your testimony and know what you should do in all situations. If it is a place where the scriptures have no comment, then prayer and following the principles that Christ taught will help you come to the right decision. By reading and pondering upon his words, we can extrapolate more meaning from them, especially in situations that didn't exist in his time on the Earth (modern medicine and diet, technology, ethical situations like abortion). We need to rely upon the roots of our testimony to handle hard situations, and we can't do that if it doesn't have strong roots.
I challenge you to fast, pray, and read the scriptures in order to find the truth for yourself.
Monday, March 25, 2013
Sexual Assault: Destroying the Mindset, Stemming the Tide
First off, if you believe in a creator i'll invite you to read this really amazing talk that's helped me a lot in my healing process. Talk
Now, let's get down to a very serious discussion: How can we combat the mentality that has lead to rape culture? I have a few ideas, and i'd like to hear your responses to them. If you come up with a better idea, or a way to build upon the ones outlined here, please let me know! This is a discussion that needs to be had, and i'm inviting you to it.
Sexual assault, statutory rape, criminal sentencing for sex crimes, and resources for victims of assault to receive help... Make them ALL a part of regular Sexual Education curriculum. These are things that normally get swept under a rug. They should be out in the open and talked about freely, so that our children are prepared for the real world. If I had been taught about the different forms of sexual assault I probably would have been prepared. If I had known what it was at the time, I would have reported it. If I had known the warning signs of a sexual predator ahead of time, I could have stopped it before it reached the point where I was assaulted.
Teach them about the definition and forms that sexual assault can take. Teach these teenagers to look for the warning signs in the people around them, so they can reach out to their friends if they suspect that person has been victimized. Also teach them the warning signs that lead to someone committing a sexual assault. Inappropriate touching or saying inappropriate things can be the first step toward someone committing such an act. Asking about underwear color, or touching breasts or genitals can be a warning sign. Teach them that can come to any member of the faculty if they are concerned about another person's behavior towards them.
Teach them what constitutes statutory rape, and why. Don't be condescending. Explain that they are emotionally and physically far behind adults, and that sexual relations with adults is against the law. Make sure that both federal and local laws on the matter are clearly defined. Also cover things such as sexting and sending nude photos, which can get them arrested on child pornography charges.
Speaking of pornography, if you are going to allow your children to view it... make sure it isn't demeaning to women. The type of porn that frightens me the most is the kind where women are physically overpowered, made to look weak, or roughly handled. If you are not going to hand your kid porn, make sure they understand from a fairly young age (basically as soon as their body starts developing) that pornography can be extremely degrading towards women, and give them a very messed up idea of what a consensual and loving relationship looks like.
Explain that coercing someone into having sex by threatening to break up with them, is rape. This seems to be a topic that is sadly lacking in most birds and bees talks. Your daughters especially, but also your sons need to be taught that withholding love/kindness/other intimacy in order to gain sexual intercourse is a form of rape. We talk about peer pressure all of the time, but seemingly never in this context. Teens aren't just pressured into drinking, smoking, or drugs.
Everyone needs to be taught the formal declaration of Federal and State laws concerning sexual assault. I think some people would not commit these actions if they knew, clearly, that what they were doing was illegal. I think more convictions would occur in rape cases if they could prove that the assailant knew fully that what they were doing was wrong because they had been taught it in class. Either way, this needs to be covered. No question about it.
The final segment of the lesson should cover resources available to anyone who has been a victim of assault, including hotlines, counseling services, and local shelters. Write them up on the board, give handouts. Tell the kids that even if they haven't gone through it, they never know when someone close to them will need this help. Give them the statistics on how frequently sexual assault occurs. 1 in every 3 women have experienced it. Tell them how under-reported it is. Most of all, explain that it isn't their fault if it happens to them. Tell these kids how wonderful they are. That each of them matter. That they are all human beings, worthy of love and life.
After all of this, have an open questions segment. Let them all put questions in a box, then pull them out and answer each one as honestly and kindly as you can. If you can help it, have someone from a local counseling center come in and assist with this day's curriculum. I promise you that not talking about it is never going to bring an end to it. The only way to root out evil in our society is to talk about it openly and vilify it in the eyes of the populace.
I'm including some links to very useful sites that can hopefully help you open up more discussion with your kids/peers about sexual assault, or help you get help if you've experienced it.
Warning signs, what to watch out for
Call here if you have been assaulted
More info on assault, statistics, effects, and recovery
RAINN.org has been an extremely helpful site in my own recovery process. It was there that I finally found proof for myself that what I experienced might have been sexual assault. That site gave me the courage to really seek help and get a full explanation and diagnosis.
I really hope we can begin to discuss these topics in an open forum, and that doing so will lead to real progress.
Now, let's get down to a very serious discussion: How can we combat the mentality that has lead to rape culture? I have a few ideas, and i'd like to hear your responses to them. If you come up with a better idea, or a way to build upon the ones outlined here, please let me know! This is a discussion that needs to be had, and i'm inviting you to it.
Sexual assault, statutory rape, criminal sentencing for sex crimes, and resources for victims of assault to receive help... Make them ALL a part of regular Sexual Education curriculum. These are things that normally get swept under a rug. They should be out in the open and talked about freely, so that our children are prepared for the real world. If I had been taught about the different forms of sexual assault I probably would have been prepared. If I had known what it was at the time, I would have reported it. If I had known the warning signs of a sexual predator ahead of time, I could have stopped it before it reached the point where I was assaulted.
Teach them about the definition and forms that sexual assault can take. Teach these teenagers to look for the warning signs in the people around them, so they can reach out to their friends if they suspect that person has been victimized. Also teach them the warning signs that lead to someone committing a sexual assault. Inappropriate touching or saying inappropriate things can be the first step toward someone committing such an act. Asking about underwear color, or touching breasts or genitals can be a warning sign. Teach them that can come to any member of the faculty if they are concerned about another person's behavior towards them.
Teach them what constitutes statutory rape, and why. Don't be condescending. Explain that they are emotionally and physically far behind adults, and that sexual relations with adults is against the law. Make sure that both federal and local laws on the matter are clearly defined. Also cover things such as sexting and sending nude photos, which can get them arrested on child pornography charges.
Speaking of pornography, if you are going to allow your children to view it... make sure it isn't demeaning to women. The type of porn that frightens me the most is the kind where women are physically overpowered, made to look weak, or roughly handled. If you are not going to hand your kid porn, make sure they understand from a fairly young age (basically as soon as their body starts developing) that pornography can be extremely degrading towards women, and give them a very messed up idea of what a consensual and loving relationship looks like.
Explain that coercing someone into having sex by threatening to break up with them, is rape. This seems to be a topic that is sadly lacking in most birds and bees talks. Your daughters especially, but also your sons need to be taught that withholding love/kindness/other intimacy in order to gain sexual intercourse is a form of rape. We talk about peer pressure all of the time, but seemingly never in this context. Teens aren't just pressured into drinking, smoking, or drugs.
Everyone needs to be taught the formal declaration of Federal and State laws concerning sexual assault. I think some people would not commit these actions if they knew, clearly, that what they were doing was illegal. I think more convictions would occur in rape cases if they could prove that the assailant knew fully that what they were doing was wrong because they had been taught it in class. Either way, this needs to be covered. No question about it.
The final segment of the lesson should cover resources available to anyone who has been a victim of assault, including hotlines, counseling services, and local shelters. Write them up on the board, give handouts. Tell the kids that even if they haven't gone through it, they never know when someone close to them will need this help. Give them the statistics on how frequently sexual assault occurs. 1 in every 3 women have experienced it. Tell them how under-reported it is. Most of all, explain that it isn't their fault if it happens to them. Tell these kids how wonderful they are. That each of them matter. That they are all human beings, worthy of love and life.
After all of this, have an open questions segment. Let them all put questions in a box, then pull them out and answer each one as honestly and kindly as you can. If you can help it, have someone from a local counseling center come in and assist with this day's curriculum. I promise you that not talking about it is never going to bring an end to it. The only way to root out evil in our society is to talk about it openly and vilify it in the eyes of the populace.
I'm including some links to very useful sites that can hopefully help you open up more discussion with your kids/peers about sexual assault, or help you get help if you've experienced it.
Warning signs, what to watch out for
Call here if you have been assaulted
More info on assault, statistics, effects, and recovery
RAINN.org has been an extremely helpful site in my own recovery process. It was there that I finally found proof for myself that what I experienced might have been sexual assault. That site gave me the courage to really seek help and get a full explanation and diagnosis.
I really hope we can begin to discuss these topics in an open forum, and that doing so will lead to real progress.
Saturday, March 23, 2013
Baptism
Before we can be baptized, we must first (as it says in Romans) "die unto sin". We have to rid ourselves of those sins as if they had died, and are buried. Then we must live in Christ and forget those sins in our past as we leave behind the dead.
Baptism is a type of Christ's death and Resurrection, after all. It is meant to remind us of the natural man dying, and being raised again in Christ's image into a new and purified life that we consecrate to God. When someone is not baptized by immersion they lose the direct link to Christ's Resurrection. They lose all of the symbolism contained in it.
If we control our actions and continually try to live as disciples of Christ, remembering our rebirth and dedication to his gospel, then it is easy to follow his laws and commandments. We can always return to him if we make a mistake, and beg forgiveness of him, but it is easier to just avoid temptation and mistakes before we can give in to them. Christ has given us the chance to repent and be washed clean over and over, and as we take the sacrament we are reminded of that covenant and promise.
Ideally, our connection to the natural man is severed at baptism, and God replaces the natural man as the focus of our actions. We do all things in the name of God, not in our own name. We seek to always do His will, not our own. This does not mean that we have to always do things we don't want to, it instead means aligning our will with God's so that the things we desire are also the things he would desire of us. People often complain that religion is restrictive and abrasive, destroying our agency. This isn't true. If you always seek to want the things God wants for you, then you will never feel restricted.
Submission to God's will is the path to real freedom. Submission to the flesh leads to addictions, controls, and bonds from which we cannot free ourselves. Submission to God leads to blessings, and ultimately eternal life. The best way to tell if something is a righteous desire is by asking yourself if you could do it with God looking on. If he were standing right there, could you smoke a joint? Could you hit that person? Could you see him walking beside you as you carry out those actions? The fruit of your actions need to be something you would be proud of showing God. You need not be ashamed of righteous actions, only of unrighteous ones. True freedom comes from understanding that choice.
Baptism is a type of Christ's death and Resurrection, after all. It is meant to remind us of the natural man dying, and being raised again in Christ's image into a new and purified life that we consecrate to God. When someone is not baptized by immersion they lose the direct link to Christ's Resurrection. They lose all of the symbolism contained in it.
If we control our actions and continually try to live as disciples of Christ, remembering our rebirth and dedication to his gospel, then it is easy to follow his laws and commandments. We can always return to him if we make a mistake, and beg forgiveness of him, but it is easier to just avoid temptation and mistakes before we can give in to them. Christ has given us the chance to repent and be washed clean over and over, and as we take the sacrament we are reminded of that covenant and promise.
Ideally, our connection to the natural man is severed at baptism, and God replaces the natural man as the focus of our actions. We do all things in the name of God, not in our own name. We seek to always do His will, not our own. This does not mean that we have to always do things we don't want to, it instead means aligning our will with God's so that the things we desire are also the things he would desire of us. People often complain that religion is restrictive and abrasive, destroying our agency. This isn't true. If you always seek to want the things God wants for you, then you will never feel restricted.
Submission to God's will is the path to real freedom. Submission to the flesh leads to addictions, controls, and bonds from which we cannot free ourselves. Submission to God leads to blessings, and ultimately eternal life. The best way to tell if something is a righteous desire is by asking yourself if you could do it with God looking on. If he were standing right there, could you smoke a joint? Could you hit that person? Could you see him walking beside you as you carry out those actions? The fruit of your actions need to be something you would be proud of showing God. You need not be ashamed of righteous actions, only of unrighteous ones. True freedom comes from understanding that choice.
Wednesday, March 20, 2013
PTSD: Learning to Survive
I couldn't get out of bed this morning... again. It's been happening less often lately, but for a while there I could barely force myself to shower or eat every day. The whole process of cooking something, and then sitting down and chewing, chewing, chewing... it took too much effort. Same with showering. Taking off each piece of clothing took so much energy. Climbing in the shower and scrubbing took even more energy. It was just too much. I would get exhausted half way through and just stand in the shower with the hot water pouring down on the back of my neck, wanting to cry but feeling completely hollow. This is what depression feels like, for those of you who have never experienced it. Depression isn't just "feeling blue". It's not something you just "push through". You don't just "get over it". At least, I can't. Depression is different for everyone.
For me, the depression is almost crippling. It runs rampant through my family, but we have mostly coped with it by getting lots of sunlight and finding things that uplift us when we get into that "funk". After my sexual assault it got even worse. Much worse. My depression combined with this thing called PTSD, and became overwhelming.
PTSD, or Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, isn't just something that military veterans get. It can develop after any traumatic experience: car crashes, sexual assaults, witnessing a murder, severe physical shock such as breaking your back... and the only way to know for sure that you have it is by seeing a psychiatrist and being diagnosed with it.
A psychiatrist?! I know! I know what that word brings to mind. You think of crazy people flinging poo, or people with cuts on their wrists. It calls to mind people in hospital gowns with vacant eyes, watching the same program on TV for the fifth time that day. But it isn't anything like that, I promise! Let me tell you about my therapist, Mr. B. He's wonderful.
When I first met Mr. B, I was very nervous. I had called to speak to someone at the counseling center about my "issues", and they had set up an appointment with this man I had never met before. That's what I call them, my "issues". They are a part of me, but they aren't me. I am not my depression, or my PTSD, even though they take me over at times. They. Are. Not. ME. Anyone close to me will tell you, I don't really like to talk to people I don't know very well. People scare me. Apparently this is also part of my PTSD, because I used to be an outgoing and talkative kid.
So there I was sitting in the lobby with other silent people, all eyeing one another, wondering what everyone else was here for. Some were couples, holding hands quietly, as if they were sharing their tension and comforting one another just by the touch of their hand in the other person's. Some were women around my age who looked like they needed a cheeseburger. I could tell my their slightly gaunt cheeks that they might have missed a few meals. I felt an overwhelming urge to hug them, immediately. It overtook me to an almost painful degree.
Then I wondered if any of these people had gone through what I had experienced. Suddenly I felt completely obvious. Naked even. Like if someone so much as looked at me that they would be able to tell. I started to gather my coat and backpack in order to flee. I was going to just grab my things and run like heck down those stairs and out the front door. I knew I couldn't do this! ...That's when I met him. As I started to rise out of my seat, I heard him say my name. I looked up. Standing there in front of me was this grandfatherly fellow with grey hair and soft eyes, smiling warmly at me. I felt an instant surge of calm; a warmth in my heart telling me that I was in the right place. I knew immediately that this man was there for me. He was there to listen to me, and talk to me, and promise me that I would be okay.
He invited me back to his office with this comfy big chair, and sitting next to it on a table were a box of tissues and a squishy rubber ball to play with. I nabbed the ball right away, because I always like to play with things in my hands when i'm nervous (usually a pencil, or something malleable like rubber). That day we talked about why I was there. I told him everything from my last post about my assault. I told him that I wasn't sure what to call it. He referred to it as "sexual assault", and for the first time I had a name for the thing that had happened to me. For some reason, we as humans fear the unnamed or unfamiliar. Once this thing had a name, I no longer feared it. I still hated it, but now it was a known evil, something I could fight.
Mr. B was going to give me those tools to fight it with.
I cried a lot that first session. Anyone who knows me will tell you that I hate crying, especially in front of other people. But as I cried, I felt something in me loosen. It was like I had this huge, tight, painful knot in the center of my chest that was slowly easing itself looser. Like when you have a knotted rope and you are trying to undo the knot, at that second where you can feel the knot start to let go. I walked out of that room feeling lighter, but still shaky, and kind of scared at the prospect of re-experiencing all of it in my mind as I described it to him. I have a very good memory. I remember tiny details such as smells, touch sensations, and colors. Usually it's great when i'm reading books because a novel can come alive in my brain. The downside is that my memory of very bad events in my life can be recalled in excruciatingly precise detail.
I thought that was it. I wasn't going to have to see this guy ever again, because I was only seeing him in order to be allowed to serve a mission for my church. It was going to be a one-shot deal, and that was it. Then my bishop called to tell me that they wanted me to continue seeing this therapist for the rest of the semester. I was crushed. I'd already poured my heart and soul, my most closely-held secret out to this man, and now I had to do it again?! Well... balls.
Two weeks later there I was again, sitting in the same waiting room with the same people, thinking about running. There he was again, smiling and leading me back to his office to talk. The first week he had me fill out a depression survey. I showed up as mildly depressed, and as we talked about my chronic insomnia, nightmares, appetite problems, and flashbacks he gave me a new name to work with: PTSD. I now had an official diagnosis to explain everything. I said it out loud to myself several times: Post-Traumatic Stess Disorder. PTSD. We spent the rest of my session talking about my family, and my life. We talked about dating. I hadn't dated anyone in nearly a year. I'm no good at dating. The idea of being touched by a man makes me physically nauseous. He seems saddened by this. In my church the ideal is to be married to someone who plans to stand by you for time and all eternity. The idea of someone who might never be able to marry is a very sad thing for us mormons.
He says goodbye to me that day, and I leave feeling completely emotionally drained. I don't feel like we accomplished much, but i'm determined to go home and research PTSD. In fact I remember thinking that the only thing he really did for me that session was give me a piece of paper explaining how to combat insomnia in order to try and get my life back together (not sleeping for a couple of days at a time can really mess with work and productivity). In reality, he gave me the third piece to the puzzle of recovery.
Hold on, what? Third piece? You've probably counted to two, the first being able to name what happened and the second being my diagnosis. Actually, the first piece was given to me years ago. My first piece is a support system of family and friends who are always and will always love me. If it weren't for them, I wouldn't be here telling you all of this. If it weren't for them, I would be dead. Buried. Six feet under. To discuss my recovery, we need to go back six years to the first few months after my assault. The darkest, scariest, and almost the last period of my life.
Here it goes: At the age of fifteen, I almost took my own life. Wow... even after admitting everything else, that's easily the most difficult thing I've ever had to say. How did it happen, you ask? I was broken. Shattered. I felt dirty, used, and completely worthless. My depression was eating me from the inside, and I didn't see any escape from it. Even with my loving friends and family, I felt trapped. I felt like I was drowning in some dark, sticky fluid that was slowly filling my lungs and dragging me downward. One night I was left at home, alone (I can't recall why, my parents have busy lives) and I hit the lowest point ever. I walked into the kitchen, out of my mind with pain and anger and fear. I wanted out.
I picked a knife up off of the counter. A clean one. I don't remember why I wanted it to be a clean one. It doesn't really matter if you are going to kill yourself, whether you keep food particles out of the wound. That's how my mind has always worked, though. Precise, even when it shouldn't matter. Maybe I secretly hoped that I would survive it, and knew that the wounds would heal cleanly if I used a clean knife. I sat down on the floor of our kitchen, the lights all off except for the one over the kitchen sink. I remember not wanting to do it in my room because I didn't want my parents to have to pay to rip out the carpeting.
I held the knife against my wrist. It was cold. The steel felt strange against my skin, as my heartbeat pounded under the blade. I could feel the blood thumping in my head, and it's all I could hear. Just as I prepared to start, I felt something new. Some little piece of light trickled into all that blackness. Just a tiny, tiny bit. But... it was enough. As tears started to trickle down my cheeks, I saw images of my parents' faces slide through my mind. It was like a macabre slideshow of them sobbing inconsolably over my dead body, mixed in with pictures of them smiling at me proudly. A mixture of what could be, and memories from the past.
I saw my parents. Then my brothers. My sister. My friends... They cried, they smiled. I watched, transfixed. I knew I couldn't do it. I had something to live for. If not for me, then I would do it for them. I put the knife in the sink, and walked into my room and cried until my parents came home.
Two years ago, I hit another low point after breaking things off with the last in a long string of guys who treated me terribly and tried to push physical boundaries that set off my PTSD/flashbacks. I nearly killed myself, again. I was driving on a very rainy night, under a stone railroad overpass. I planned to swerve my car into it, making it look like an accident. At the very last second, in all of that despair... I saw a trickle of light again. This time it was the faces of my nephews. Their faces, crying and calling out for me, were burned into my mind's eye. I pulled over to the side of the road and sobbed. I prayed. I thanked God for keeping me from doing the unthinkable. I called a friend to talk through what had just happened, and to get her help calming me down. Then I drove home.
How does that help, sharing this with you? I want you to see just how sick I was. I want you to know exactly what that darkness feels like. Why? Because the contrast is amazing!
I continued to see Mr. B every other week for the rest of that semester. Then when I decided to return for the next semester, it was requested that I continue to see him. I was actually almost excited to do so. Over the past few semesters out at college I began making male friends, even hanging out with them in groups. Moving from my first apartment to a new place (without the cinderblock walls that reminded me forcefully of my high school) meant fewer flashbacks and nightmares. I was making some serious progress! This reached a turning point when I met a group of guys who liked My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic.
Stay with me here! This isn't about extolling the virtues of watching a little girls' show. This is about the friends I made in doing so. They showed me the most gentle, loving side of masculine nature that I had ever seen. I'd only seen this side before in my own father, and in glimpses from other men I knew in my life. But here, in these college guys, was that same light. The light of Christ, in its purest form.
I know, I know, seriously? Yes. Seriously. With all my heart. These guys really saved me.
They have no idea, but they saved me.
They gave me the courage to fight my depression, every week. They gave me an outlet to work out my fears, anxiety, and struggles. They were my safety net. This isn't meant to discount the contribution of anyone else in my life! Everyone else in my life, family, friends... they've contributed to saving me. They all have a very special place in my heart, and I love them so much. But this group of guys sewed it up for me. They were the final bit of icing on top of the apple fritter of my life.
The best part about it is: they feel kind of the same about me. They've made me feel like a dear friend whom they really care about. As a group, they're accepting, loving, and supportive. What they've given me is the greatest gift I've been given besides my life and the Atonement. They've showed me that someday, somehow, I will be able to move on with my life. I might even be able to marry, someday.
So that's my story. One of brokenness, pain, and anguish. But also a story of healing, recovery, and love. You don't have to believe in God in order to crawl back out of the pits of despair. It helps, but it's possible even if you don't. The reason it helps is the reminder that God knows every single thing you've experienced. He knows your pains and sorrows. He loves you no matter what. Throughout every single one of my trials, I've had God's strength and support. I've had the family and friends he's given me, supporting me.
In closing, I've finally found myself. I'm still the fiery little kid who ran everywhere and wanted to try every new thing. I'm still the shy, sweet girl who lovingly cares for everyone who comes within her reach. And most importantly, i'm now a strong woman who is willing to stand and comfort those who have experienced similarly horrible circumstances. I want you to know that I love you. I feel for you. God loves you. Your family and friends love you. There is hope. Don't give up.
My next post will contain my opinions and ideas about how we can fight against the mindset that leads to sexual assault, and how we can better prepare ourselves and our loved ones to recognize and avoid sexual predators.
For me, the depression is almost crippling. It runs rampant through my family, but we have mostly coped with it by getting lots of sunlight and finding things that uplift us when we get into that "funk". After my sexual assault it got even worse. Much worse. My depression combined with this thing called PTSD, and became overwhelming.
PTSD, or Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, isn't just something that military veterans get. It can develop after any traumatic experience: car crashes, sexual assaults, witnessing a murder, severe physical shock such as breaking your back... and the only way to know for sure that you have it is by seeing a psychiatrist and being diagnosed with it.
A psychiatrist?! I know! I know what that word brings to mind. You think of crazy people flinging poo, or people with cuts on their wrists. It calls to mind people in hospital gowns with vacant eyes, watching the same program on TV for the fifth time that day. But it isn't anything like that, I promise! Let me tell you about my therapist, Mr. B. He's wonderful.
When I first met Mr. B, I was very nervous. I had called to speak to someone at the counseling center about my "issues", and they had set up an appointment with this man I had never met before. That's what I call them, my "issues". They are a part of me, but they aren't me. I am not my depression, or my PTSD, even though they take me over at times. They. Are. Not. ME. Anyone close to me will tell you, I don't really like to talk to people I don't know very well. People scare me. Apparently this is also part of my PTSD, because I used to be an outgoing and talkative kid.
So there I was sitting in the lobby with other silent people, all eyeing one another, wondering what everyone else was here for. Some were couples, holding hands quietly, as if they were sharing their tension and comforting one another just by the touch of their hand in the other person's. Some were women around my age who looked like they needed a cheeseburger. I could tell my their slightly gaunt cheeks that they might have missed a few meals. I felt an overwhelming urge to hug them, immediately. It overtook me to an almost painful degree.
Then I wondered if any of these people had gone through what I had experienced. Suddenly I felt completely obvious. Naked even. Like if someone so much as looked at me that they would be able to tell. I started to gather my coat and backpack in order to flee. I was going to just grab my things and run like heck down those stairs and out the front door. I knew I couldn't do this! ...That's when I met him. As I started to rise out of my seat, I heard him say my name. I looked up. Standing there in front of me was this grandfatherly fellow with grey hair and soft eyes, smiling warmly at me. I felt an instant surge of calm; a warmth in my heart telling me that I was in the right place. I knew immediately that this man was there for me. He was there to listen to me, and talk to me, and promise me that I would be okay.
He invited me back to his office with this comfy big chair, and sitting next to it on a table were a box of tissues and a squishy rubber ball to play with. I nabbed the ball right away, because I always like to play with things in my hands when i'm nervous (usually a pencil, or something malleable like rubber). That day we talked about why I was there. I told him everything from my last post about my assault. I told him that I wasn't sure what to call it. He referred to it as "sexual assault", and for the first time I had a name for the thing that had happened to me. For some reason, we as humans fear the unnamed or unfamiliar. Once this thing had a name, I no longer feared it. I still hated it, but now it was a known evil, something I could fight.
Mr. B was going to give me those tools to fight it with.
I cried a lot that first session. Anyone who knows me will tell you that I hate crying, especially in front of other people. But as I cried, I felt something in me loosen. It was like I had this huge, tight, painful knot in the center of my chest that was slowly easing itself looser. Like when you have a knotted rope and you are trying to undo the knot, at that second where you can feel the knot start to let go. I walked out of that room feeling lighter, but still shaky, and kind of scared at the prospect of re-experiencing all of it in my mind as I described it to him. I have a very good memory. I remember tiny details such as smells, touch sensations, and colors. Usually it's great when i'm reading books because a novel can come alive in my brain. The downside is that my memory of very bad events in my life can be recalled in excruciatingly precise detail.
I thought that was it. I wasn't going to have to see this guy ever again, because I was only seeing him in order to be allowed to serve a mission for my church. It was going to be a one-shot deal, and that was it. Then my bishop called to tell me that they wanted me to continue seeing this therapist for the rest of the semester. I was crushed. I'd already poured my heart and soul, my most closely-held secret out to this man, and now I had to do it again?! Well... balls.
Two weeks later there I was again, sitting in the same waiting room with the same people, thinking about running. There he was again, smiling and leading me back to his office to talk. The first week he had me fill out a depression survey. I showed up as mildly depressed, and as we talked about my chronic insomnia, nightmares, appetite problems, and flashbacks he gave me a new name to work with: PTSD. I now had an official diagnosis to explain everything. I said it out loud to myself several times: Post-Traumatic Stess Disorder. PTSD. We spent the rest of my session talking about my family, and my life. We talked about dating. I hadn't dated anyone in nearly a year. I'm no good at dating. The idea of being touched by a man makes me physically nauseous. He seems saddened by this. In my church the ideal is to be married to someone who plans to stand by you for time and all eternity. The idea of someone who might never be able to marry is a very sad thing for us mormons.
He says goodbye to me that day, and I leave feeling completely emotionally drained. I don't feel like we accomplished much, but i'm determined to go home and research PTSD. In fact I remember thinking that the only thing he really did for me that session was give me a piece of paper explaining how to combat insomnia in order to try and get my life back together (not sleeping for a couple of days at a time can really mess with work and productivity). In reality, he gave me the third piece to the puzzle of recovery.
Hold on, what? Third piece? You've probably counted to two, the first being able to name what happened and the second being my diagnosis. Actually, the first piece was given to me years ago. My first piece is a support system of family and friends who are always and will always love me. If it weren't for them, I wouldn't be here telling you all of this. If it weren't for them, I would be dead. Buried. Six feet under. To discuss my recovery, we need to go back six years to the first few months after my assault. The darkest, scariest, and almost the last period of my life.
Here it goes: At the age of fifteen, I almost took my own life. Wow... even after admitting everything else, that's easily the most difficult thing I've ever had to say. How did it happen, you ask? I was broken. Shattered. I felt dirty, used, and completely worthless. My depression was eating me from the inside, and I didn't see any escape from it. Even with my loving friends and family, I felt trapped. I felt like I was drowning in some dark, sticky fluid that was slowly filling my lungs and dragging me downward. One night I was left at home, alone (I can't recall why, my parents have busy lives) and I hit the lowest point ever. I walked into the kitchen, out of my mind with pain and anger and fear. I wanted out.
I picked a knife up off of the counter. A clean one. I don't remember why I wanted it to be a clean one. It doesn't really matter if you are going to kill yourself, whether you keep food particles out of the wound. That's how my mind has always worked, though. Precise, even when it shouldn't matter. Maybe I secretly hoped that I would survive it, and knew that the wounds would heal cleanly if I used a clean knife. I sat down on the floor of our kitchen, the lights all off except for the one over the kitchen sink. I remember not wanting to do it in my room because I didn't want my parents to have to pay to rip out the carpeting.
I held the knife against my wrist. It was cold. The steel felt strange against my skin, as my heartbeat pounded under the blade. I could feel the blood thumping in my head, and it's all I could hear. Just as I prepared to start, I felt something new. Some little piece of light trickled into all that blackness. Just a tiny, tiny bit. But... it was enough. As tears started to trickle down my cheeks, I saw images of my parents' faces slide through my mind. It was like a macabre slideshow of them sobbing inconsolably over my dead body, mixed in with pictures of them smiling at me proudly. A mixture of what could be, and memories from the past.
I saw my parents. Then my brothers. My sister. My friends... They cried, they smiled. I watched, transfixed. I knew I couldn't do it. I had something to live for. If not for me, then I would do it for them. I put the knife in the sink, and walked into my room and cried until my parents came home.
Two years ago, I hit another low point after breaking things off with the last in a long string of guys who treated me terribly and tried to push physical boundaries that set off my PTSD/flashbacks. I nearly killed myself, again. I was driving on a very rainy night, under a stone railroad overpass. I planned to swerve my car into it, making it look like an accident. At the very last second, in all of that despair... I saw a trickle of light again. This time it was the faces of my nephews. Their faces, crying and calling out for me, were burned into my mind's eye. I pulled over to the side of the road and sobbed. I prayed. I thanked God for keeping me from doing the unthinkable. I called a friend to talk through what had just happened, and to get her help calming me down. Then I drove home.
How does that help, sharing this with you? I want you to see just how sick I was. I want you to know exactly what that darkness feels like. Why? Because the contrast is amazing!
I continued to see Mr. B every other week for the rest of that semester. Then when I decided to return for the next semester, it was requested that I continue to see him. I was actually almost excited to do so. Over the past few semesters out at college I began making male friends, even hanging out with them in groups. Moving from my first apartment to a new place (without the cinderblock walls that reminded me forcefully of my high school) meant fewer flashbacks and nightmares. I was making some serious progress! This reached a turning point when I met a group of guys who liked My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic.
Stay with me here! This isn't about extolling the virtues of watching a little girls' show. This is about the friends I made in doing so. They showed me the most gentle, loving side of masculine nature that I had ever seen. I'd only seen this side before in my own father, and in glimpses from other men I knew in my life. But here, in these college guys, was that same light. The light of Christ, in its purest form.
I know, I know, seriously? Yes. Seriously. With all my heart. These guys really saved me.
They have no idea, but they saved me.
They gave me the courage to fight my depression, every week. They gave me an outlet to work out my fears, anxiety, and struggles. They were my safety net. This isn't meant to discount the contribution of anyone else in my life! Everyone else in my life, family, friends... they've contributed to saving me. They all have a very special place in my heart, and I love them so much. But this group of guys sewed it up for me. They were the final bit of icing on top of the apple fritter of my life.
The best part about it is: they feel kind of the same about me. They've made me feel like a dear friend whom they really care about. As a group, they're accepting, loving, and supportive. What they've given me is the greatest gift I've been given besides my life and the Atonement. They've showed me that someday, somehow, I will be able to move on with my life. I might even be able to marry, someday.
So that's my story. One of brokenness, pain, and anguish. But also a story of healing, recovery, and love. You don't have to believe in God in order to crawl back out of the pits of despair. It helps, but it's possible even if you don't. The reason it helps is the reminder that God knows every single thing you've experienced. He knows your pains and sorrows. He loves you no matter what. Throughout every single one of my trials, I've had God's strength and support. I've had the family and friends he's given me, supporting me.
In closing, I've finally found myself. I'm still the fiery little kid who ran everywhere and wanted to try every new thing. I'm still the shy, sweet girl who lovingly cares for everyone who comes within her reach. And most importantly, i'm now a strong woman who is willing to stand and comfort those who have experienced similarly horrible circumstances. I want you to know that I love you. I feel for you. God loves you. Your family and friends love you. There is hope. Don't give up.
My next post will contain my opinions and ideas about how we can fight against the mindset that leads to sexual assault, and how we can better prepare ourselves and our loved ones to recognize and avoid sexual predators.
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
Portrait of a Sexual Assault Victim
Fifteen years old. I was just fifteen years old when I had my first sexual encounter. Sounds pretty normal, right? The only difference is: mine was non-consensual. This is the secret I've been holding in for the last six years of my life.
I was fifteen, and sexually assaulted by a classmate after school. For years, I blamed myself. I could never admit what had happened to me was assault because it would mean that I was a victim, and victims (in my eyes) were helpless, weak, and pathetic. So here's my second secret: I'm not a victim, i'm a survivor.
You're probably wondering what constitutes sexual assault. Let's take a quick look at wikipedia for some answers. Sexual Assault, Molestation, and Rape are usually used interchangeably. The important thing to remember is that sexual Assault is the blanket term that covers rape, groping, or any other unwanted sexual contact. In my case, it meant being groped in a back hallway after school with my hands pressed up against those painted cinderblocks, crying and praying he'd let me go.
How did I get there? Good question. I was a good student with a lot of potential, playing multiple sports and still trying to push myself "out of my shell" after years of bullying in middle school. I was a sophomore in high school. One day during a pep rally in the gym, I noticed that a young man who was sitting behind me was touching my back. I had known this young man since elementary school, and we'd grown up in the same town together, yet I hardly knew him. He was, in my mind at least, decently attractive and very athletic. In short, he was a cute, smart jock who I found I was somewhat flattered to be gaining the attention of. However, I was still extremely shy, and surprised to find him touching me without warning.
Throughout the pep rally he continued to playfully tap on and touch my back. I decided that it was making me somewhat uncomfortable, so I turned sideways and put my leg up on the bleacher instead, assuming that he would stop touching me once my back was out of easy reach. I was mistaken. He transferred his attention to my thigh, and continued to drum on my leg. Several of the friends I was sitting with looked as though they were beginning to grow concerned too. One offered to trade seats with me, but in the packed gymnasium it seemed impossible to orchestrate. So I stayed put. I just sat there and allowed this young man to touch me. Was it because I liked the unexpected attention? Partly. It was also partly because of my complete social anxiety and fear of standing up for myself.
So when this young man stopped me after the pep rally and asked me to meet him after school, I complied. Now looking back on it, I can identify the pattern of a sexual abuser quite clearly, but at the time I was ignorant of any such thing. I just knew that a boy had finally shown interest in me after years of being bullied and ignored by those whom I found myself attracted to. The first step for most sexual abusers is to test boundaries. Sometimes this will be by bringing up inappropriate subjects, such as asking what color underwear you are wearing or talking about breasts or awkward fetishes. Other times they will take a more physical approach such as touching you in ways that are usually socially unacceptable, touching areas like your thighs, sides, breasts, or genitals. If you react very negatively they will usually drop it, but if you are ambiguous in your response, or too shocked to stop them, they may try it again.
In my case, I didn't speak up. This gave my assailant the notion that I would not speak up if he chose to go further, and so he decided to single me out and get me alone. I have no idea if I was the first, or even the only girl he singled out. I'm terrified that i'm not, and by not speaking out that I have allowed a sexual predator to roam free, unchecked. This was part of my struggle for a very long time, between the guilt I felt and the inability to put a name to what happened, and the desire to protect other girls from this guy. I remember conversations about him in the years following, how my friends generally found him "creepy" or "awkward". They complained about him saying inappropriate things in a public setting, and how that made them uncomfortable. Through all of this, I could never tell them what he had done to me. I thought that because I couldn't verbalize what happened, and because I felt I hadn't fought enough, that nobody would believe me.
Now, I am finally speaking out. I was sexually assaulted. I am a survivor. This is my story.
I met him after school as requested. He gestured for me to follow him down a hallway, away from classrooms that were occupied. Looking back, that was really stupid. I mean really stupid. If you can help it, never be alone with someone you don't know that well, and if you get any strange vibes or feel uncomfortable LEAVE IMMEDIATELY or relocate to a more public/occupied area. I followed him. We got to an area that overlooked the floor below, and we both leaned on the railing, not speaking. The hairs on my arms were standing up. I was apprehensive, a little scared, and kind of exhilarated. I was alone, with a guy, who was obviously interested in me. What could possibly feel more right?
Then things happened fairly suddenly, and progressed quickly from there. He grabbed me hard, sliding his arm around my ribcage under my breasts, and pulled me over to a wall. He put his arms around my waist, pressing me carefully against the wall and running his hands over my back and buttocks. At first, I was aroused. I had never had someone touch me that way. I was also afraid, because i'd never been touched that way. He encouraged me to caress his chest and arms, and that was alright. Then... he pressed himself against me, and I could feel his erect penis. I was horrified. I'd never expected anything like THAT.
He didn't do anything else. He didn't kiss me, or tell me I was pretty. At one point he stopped and bolted away from me across the hallway because he heard someone coming. That too, should have been a red flag. Other people I had seen hooking up in hallways at school never jumped away from the other person like they had been burned. In fact they always ignored other people completely because they were too caught up in each other. He must have felt fear at discovery. He knew what he was doing was wrong. At the time, though, I still felt like it was a slightly uncomfortable sexually exploratory encounter. I felt guilt, exhilaration, and confusion. I also felt slightly sick to my stomach afterward. That's not generally a feeling you should have after a positive encounter, but at the time I was naive and didn't understand how sexual things were supposed to feel.
After he was done with me, he left. He didn't even say goodbye, or thanks, or anything. He just left. I myself was left feeling like i'd obviously botched the encounter, because weren't you supposed to say thanks or something when it was over? Wasn't he supposed to kiss me? I went over to a friends' house afterwards, but left without telling her what had happened. I pretended that everything was okay, but I was hurt and scared. For the next two weeks I shrank away from my friends, drawing ever further within myself. I moved through the day like a zombie, while still being perfectly aware of where people were around me at all times and doing anything I could to avoid touching other people.
At the end of those two weeks, I saw him again. He gestured for me to follow him, and I did. I don't know what possessed me to follow him to that back hallway again, except perhaps a hope that the first encounter was a fluke, and maybe he would kiss me and ask me to be his girlfriend this time. This is where I look back at myself and scream in my head "YOU PATHETIC LITTLE WORM! If you had just said no we'd be okay! Future you wouldn't need all this counseling and help if you had just known what was coming and RUN AWAY!" But I can't go back. It happened. I was naive, and stupid, and uneducated. I wonder if I had known how things should have felt, or if i'd talked to someone after that first encounter... but I didn't. And now I spend every day of my life dealing with the consequences. That, however, is not the point of this blog post. That will come next time. Right now, i'm remembering how he led me by the hand into that back hallway, and used me.
That's the only word I have for what happened: used. He pushed me up against a wall without preamble, and began groping me. Where last time it was ambiguous and confusing, this was terrifying. He shoved me and pinned me against the wall, his penis already erect. Then he began groping me painfully all over with his hands, grasping my buttocks and repeatedly thrusting himself against me. I felt sick again. Then he released me, and a person I knew fairly well walked by. I wanted to say something, to ask for his help... but I didn't. I couldn't. My mouth wouldn't work. I just stared at him mutely, my eyes begging him for help. He just kept walking.
As soon as he was out of sight, my assailant grabbed me again and pushed me against the wall. That time, I was facing the wall, my hands pressed against the cold painted cinderblocks, as he jammed his penis through my jeans as deeply as he could into my buttocks. It seemed to go on forever. I wanted to scream, but I couldn't breathe. My breath came in short, choking gasps as he thrust against me over and over. Finally his arms tensed up, and then his whole body shuddered, and he relaxed against my back. He pushed off of me, and walked away. Again, without a word. I wanted to curl up into a ball and sob. I also wanted to vomit. Instead I walked home on shaking legs, and took a scalding hot shower.
In the months, and then years since this happened... I've blamed myself for it. Why wasn't I stronger? Why didn't I scream out for help? Why didn't I realize what it was right away and make it stop? It all boils down to one fact: I didn't know it was assault until it was too late.
I wonder what might have happened if I had been taught what to expect from sexual interactions. What if I had been taught about rape, abuse, assault, and molestation? Instead of getting help for something I knew was eating me up inside... I hid it. I thought I was dirty, and disgusting, and not worthy of the love of other people. I'm LDS as well, so I thought I had broken the law of chastity (for those of you unaware, we don't believe in sex before marriage, or in purposely stimulating sexual feelings in yourself or another before marriage).
The side effects.
I began to wear very baggy clothing, usually hand-me-downs or men's clothing. I often refused to brush my hair or shower, in order to make myself less attractive to men. I thought that if I just made myself undesirable that they would never pay me attention like that again. I was so wrong...because I still had to attend school every day with my assailant.
I saw him in the hallways between classes.
I saw him in the cafeteria.
I saw him at school sporting events and dances.
And every time, he would stare at me. His eyes bored into the back of my head from across hallways, rooms, and streets. I could feel his presence the second he entered a room, like a rabbit sensing a coyote.
Then, worst of all, I had a class with him my senior year of high school. English, my best subject. I was in an honors class every year, and I honestly considered dropping it to take the regular class because I couldn't bear being in the room with him. In the end I decided to stay in that class because the teacher was amazing, and I had friends to insulate me from him. I knew that if myself and my friends came to class early and grabbed seats next to each other, i'd be fine. By this time most of my friends knew that I was jumpy around men for some reason, and never wanted to be alone. They couldn't tell why, but most of them instinctively protected me in groups, or made sure I always had someone to walk to class with.
It all worked perfectly, until the day that my two friends were both missing from class. He managed to sit right next to me. I could hardly breathe, and the room felt too small. He pressed his forearm against mine on the table as we wrote our papers for the day, and under the table he pressed his thigh against the length of mine, rubbing it back and forth. I was shaking. I couldn't take my eyes off of the paper I was writing. For the entire class period, I couldn't move or speak. After that day, my teacher seemed to sense something was wrong. I always spoke in that class, and shared my thoughts. I loved that teacher like a favorite uncle. He knew something was wrong because I completely shut down. From that day on, that teacher became my hero. He forced my abuser to sit as far away from me as possible, and if at all possible he made sure it was at an angle where he couldn't so much as look at me.
The rest of that year went smoothly, and we graduated. I was still living in my home town when everyone went off to college 45 minutes away at the state university (or beyond). Several of my closest friends went to that school, as well as my assaulter. Every time I met one of my friends for lunch on campus, we would run into him. He'd never greet me, but he'd follow me around until I got in my car and drove away. I felt hunted. I couldn't even go for a walk in my own town because he still lived there. I knew I needed to get out.
So I prayed. My answer came in the form of an impression that I needed to apply to go to school across the country. I applied to BYU in Provo, Utah, and BYU-I in Rexburg, Idaho. Both were good schools, and both were AWAY, but I knew I needed to go to Idaho. When I was accepted, I knew I needed to leave as soon as possible. It was still a good six months before I finally escaped to Idaho, but it was the best decision I've ever made. As that plane took off I finally felt free. Being out here at college I've slowly started on the road to recovery, and that's the topic of my next blog post PTSD: learning to survive.
I hope that my recounting of the pain I endured will help others to realize, accept, and get help recovering from the assault they experienced. I hope that my admissions will also help people who have never experienced sexual assault to understand what we've been through. Thank you for reading.
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