House is a Four

I've talked about the Enneagram, the personality system, on here before. Recently, I've purchased a book about the system, in an effort to better understand my type and, more importantly, to learn how to use that information for growth. After "Fifty Shades of Grey", it's pretty dry reading. Interesting, but dry. And slow. But, insightful.

I've recently learned the Type Fours (my type) tend to be under-expressive in their emotions. At first I thought "There is no way this applies to me! I'm super emotional!". But as I read on, it explained that Fours feel just as much, however they channel those feelings into creative outlets, such as music, poetry, art or maybe blogging *ahem*. I put the book down and really started to reflect and examine this new revelation.

I get so caught up in feeling all these emotions, but I don't know how to broach the topic with people. I desperately want people to reach out to me. I have friends and family who I know are there for me, and have told me on multiple occasions that I can always turn to them. But I just can't do that. I don't know what I'm afraid of.

"You're so afraid if you change, you'll
lose what makes you special."
-Dr. Wilson to House 

The source of this is obvious. In my home growing up, we were not allowed to express ourselves. We were supposed to be obedient little Stepford children. If we cried, my sisters and I were told "Stop crying or I'll give you something to cry about!" [May the good Lord strike me down if I ever utter this to my children!] I didn't know how to express any emotion appropriately. So I went to school and work and did my best to wear a mask, hiding the torment inside. Generally, I think I was pretty good at it.  I once had someone tell me that they assumed I had lived a "charmed life" because I just seemed happy. But it's not something I could just "turn off" when I was no longer being abused. It was a well-learned habit. There are times in life when this serves me well. For example, any job where I've had to deal with the public. "Happy" is what they are paying for, whether it be at the Burger King drive-thru, Blockbuster check-out or attending activities in the nursing home. The "mask" is appropriate at those times. 

But it becomes a problem when I'm unable to take off the mask around other people. People I could be friends with. The concept of the mask isn't really new to me, but understanding just how much I under-express feelings is.

Because of this, I naturally hold people at an arm's length. Which feeds the feeling of being different from others. Which feeds the act of holding people at an arm's length. Do you see the vicious cycle here?

This all also plays a part in holding on to feelings that make me feel different as well. Melancholy is defined as:

1. a gloomy state of mind, especially when habitual or prolonged; depression.

2. sober thoughtfulness; pensiveness.

It is pretty common for me to feel melancholy. I start to dwell on all my "deep, dark feelings". I get annoyed that "no one" understands me, and that I feel unconnected with those around me. It's taken some time, however I'm now able to recognize these feelings when I'm experience them. But it's still difficult to stop them. It's so comfortable. Like baked macaroni and cheese and Studdly Hubby's pajama pants. None of it is good or attractive, but man, does it feel comforting. 

I don't want to say I'm "stuck" here, because I am making progress. I understand this particular issue more and more all the time. But I don't like being in this space at all, because finding comfort in these feelings is not something I'm proud of. 

But it is the truth. 

I feel so close to the edge of a breakthrough here, so I'm not going to give up!!

Rachel

7 Years

I'm so emotionally exhausted I don't even know where to begin.

The past few weeks have been rough. My birthday was absolutely wonderful, but it's been downhill from there on. For one, I haven't been feeling well physically. I've had some things going on that had me thinking I could be pregnant, even though there's no reason I should be, which really toyed with my emotions. Excitement, worry, nervous, disappointment, and all that. I'm not pregnant, and the symptoms have continued. I saw the doctor and she thinks I may have a sinus infection so I'm on an antibiotic for a few more days. Hopefully that will help clear things up.

On the other hand, I've entered a new phase of therapy, one focused on my body and where it stores memories. I believe that had a lot to do with dream I shared in my last blog. But the back and shoulder pain has continued since then. But the icing on top of the cake was the anxiety attack I had last Thursday night. 

A paper bag probably would have come
in handy...

It was my turn to run Bingo at work. I was assisting the very last resident back to her room. I started to feel my heart pound as we got closer to her room and broke into a full-body sweat. Once in her room, she asked me to adjust her light. When I reached up to pull the cord, everything went black and I had to freeze so I didn't trip on anything and fall to the floor. As soon as my vision returned and I said goodnight, I left her room and grabbed onto the railing along the wall in the hallway. I put my hand on my chest and felt my heart pounding. I figured if I waited a few seconds and took a few deep breaths I could calm back down. That's how it usually goes if my heart starts beating harder than usual. But not this time. I was breathing too hard to take a deep breath. I walked to the nearest nurses station and asked the nurse if she could take my pulse. Shockingly enough, it wasn't ridiculously high. So she took my blood pressure and checked my blood sugar as well. Everything was within the normal range, but my heart was still pounding. After 10 minutes or so I was finally able to get back to work, but the whole thing was really scary. I'm still not sure what set it off. I've been a little nervous since then that it's going to happen again, and I swear my heart hurt the next day.

Today I realized that yesterday was the 7th anniversary of the day my family and I left my dad. I suspect a lot of this anxiety has been related to that. It was a dramatic and traumatic end to the years of abuse, but it had to be. And I think I was subconsciously aware that it was that time of year again. I'm hoping that being aware of that is going to help me turn my mood around, because I have just been on a roller coaster lately, and it is exhausting. 

The other thing that has been bothering me lately is how lonely I feel. I had some alone time yesterday so I used the time to write (with pen and paper no less!). I just feel so disconnected from people. I'm learning that this is common with PTSD, but I'm struggling with how to overcome this one. I think it also stems from the fact that I learned from my family that those closest to you can't be depended on, a form of rejection. By not getting to close to anyone, they don't get the opportunity to let me down or reject me. Is it a trust issue? Maybe. Sounds more and more plausible the more I think about it.

So, the good news? 7 years of freedom!

The bad news? The effects continue to linger...

Rachel

Refusing to Suffer in Silence

When you log on to Facebook and click to update your status, it says "What's on your mind?" Often, what's on my mind is a dream I had, or my support group, or the anxiety I'm feeling. So I share that. I suffered in silence for 17 years of my life. Why I should I continue to do so because it might make someone uncomfortable?

I'm sure I've lost some "Facebook friends"  because of this, but that's fine with me. It's too difficult for many survivors to speak out about their pain. I, for whatever reason, don't feel like I have anything to lose. If someone chooses not too understand or not to be supportive, then they are missing a big part of who I am. A part I refuse to hide.

To be clear, I don't suffer all the time. I have a great life, but I'm still working through some things and facing some demons. That's my reality, not a sob story. 

I still feel like our society expects victims of any kind of trauma to just pack it all up in a neat little box, throw away the key and move on with their lives. And perhaps many of us sense that more than it exists, and therefore do that very thing. Then society in turn learns that that is how it works. I don't know. It's a difficult thing to measure. But there needs to be some recognition that that isn't how it works. There is healing that needs to happen, and that takes some time and support. I read a study recently that discussed the importance of social bonds when recovering from trauma. If you want to try to read it (its very clinical), follow this link.

Rachel

Philia

I'm just an Oprah, looking
for my Gayle.

I had an "Aha moment" today. (Don't you just love those?) I've always had trouble making friends that I really trust and feel like I can I "love". I made one good friend in high school and actually got closer to her afterwards. She was in my wedding. I went to hers and cried when I saw her in her wedding dress. Being so far away from her has really been hard, and I'll be the first to admit that I completely suck at long distance friendships. We haven't talked much, but I miss her terribly. I made a few friends in college, mostly men. I've made a few new friends here in Lafayette as well. I have another friend now that might be the Gayle to my Oprah. But something is holding me back.

I was feeling really depressed about this lately. How can I feel lonely but have friends and a husband? It doesn't really make sense and I don't feel entitled to even say that I feel that way. When I get any kind of recognition or support from my blog, I'm thrilled. But it's like a drug - the more I get, the more I want. I sometimes suspect that even if (when) I become a successful author, it will never be enough. How can I be so insecure?

Of the few people that I see often that I am developing relationships with, we don't really talk about my blog or anything related to it. They know about it, but don't act interested. Whenever I try to share my success or talk about it they either don't want to talk about it or don't know what to say. I feel like it shouldn't matter to me. I don't necessarily get all excited about their hobbies. But on the other hand, this is so much more than that. It's about the majority of years I've lived and how they affect me today. It's about how it affects my relationships with them. If they can't understand any of that, how can they fully understand me? Am I being unfair? I really do need input here.

Something else that bothers me when it comes to my relationships, is that I have trouble telling someone I love them. Romantic love is something I can really sink me teeth into, but philia, friendly or brotherly love, is something I struggle with. I'm not saying I don't care about anybody, I do! But I have trouble telling them I love them. I really put some thought into this today. Who has loved me/have I loved in the past? Family. And we all know how well that worked out. As a child, the love I knew was from a mom who couldn't stand up to her husband to protect me or my sisters, regardless of the sexual abuse. I knew a dad who would do horrible, terrible things and then say he was sorry. Until he got tired of asking forgiveness and threw inhibition to the wind. I don't think my sisters and I told each other we loved each other either. Is that weird? Do kids tell their siblings that normally? We do now, but not then. I definitively have a love/hate relationship with my mom now, so sometimes I don't even like to say it to her, but I know I'm "supposed" to.

With romantic love, I have different expectations. I'm not sure where those come from, but so far they've worked out!  I mean, I expect to have my heart broken as a teenager "in love". I told my first boyfriend I loved him. I knew I didn't. We were 15! I told my first "love" the same thing. I almost believed it. I thought I was ready to marry him at 17, but that was more running from home than anything else. He was a good person, but it wasn't true love. Then when I met Studdly Hubby. I knew. Overall, the whole thing worked out the way it was supposed to in my mind.

And the thing is...I want relationships like this.
Even if they are fictional.

But with my history of non-romantic love, it's no wonder I can't fully trust people. I can think of 3 friends that I can say I love. Although after 7 years with Studdly Hubby, I'm just now finally warming up to my in-laws and can say I love them. Well, most of them. ;-)

I'm not sure what to do to work on this one. I just know that when I see my friends together, I sometimes feel like that little girl in elementary school again who just feels different from the others. And that feels very lonely.

Rachel

Group Hug

When I feel like I'm getting a lot of support, understanding and love from people, I feel like I'm getting a big hug. Like my inner child is receiving the love she so longs for, and her natural light can shine through. I felt that way today. 

After I initiated wearing teal for National PTSD Awareness Day on Facebook, I had people let me know that they were doing just that. When I went into work, my co-worker commented that people don't generally have a lot of teal around their house if it's not a color they normally wear. All she had was a badge real. Luckily, I had thought ahead and brought my spool or teal ribbon with me and offered to let her have some. When I walked down the hallway later, I saw that she had her entire department wearing the ribbon. I was so thrilled I wanted to hug them all! She told me that everyone in the room now knew what PTSD was. How awesome is that?!

Honestly, I have never worked in a place with this many amazing co-workers. There's a few stinkers in the bunch, and we have our share of problems, but I love it. I feel so blessed by them and by all of my readers. 

Also, my last post was featured in the "Life" section on BlogHer, a massive women's blogging community. Please check it out here! I didn't get paid for it or anything like that, but I finally feel safe  to say:

I'm a writer.

Trust me, that's a big deal in Rachel Land.

Thanks again to all who wore teal or shared any kind of information on PTSD. 

Rachel

In Mourning

I wrote my last post last night, but couldn't publish it until today because, *gasp* Blogger was down! Since I initially wrote it, I've had time to process my feelings. And I've come to the conclusion that I am in mourning.

I am grieving the loss of my relationship with my family, whether it was positive or not. I'm grieving the loss of a part of my identity. I've always identified myself as part of a large family. The eldest daughter. The big sister. Those don't really feel like active roles anymore. I have been stripped of them in one way or another. 

But it goes even deeper than that. I've always felt somewhat maternal towards my sisters, particularly the youngest one. When she was little, I carried her everywhere. It's a wonder she ever learned how to walk! I remember our elementary school teachers calling me her second mom. My nickname for her was "Chica". I don't even remember how it got started. 

In high school, when Mom checked out in many ways, I was the one working, going to school and making dinner for 7 people. I felt responsible for them in many ways, even if we didn't always get along. I remember a day when Mom was driving me back to college after a weekend. My baby sister, who was 9 at the time, stood in the doorway with the saddest most heartbreaking look on her face. I felt a knot in the pit of my stomach, feeling guilty for leaving her there. 

In the next few years, I had a difficult time letting go of that responsibility, but I had to. My sisters did not see me as an authority. Nobody was listening to anything I had to say. I knew I had to let go, but it was not easy to do. I think I'm still working on it.

And so I mourn. Today, I felt physically bruised. My bones ached and my insides felt sore. I felt worn out. 

(Left to right) Me, Emily, Abby, Mom, Maria and Caroline

I realized yesterday, that of all the people that have come and gone throughout my life, the ones that have hurt me the most have been my immediate family. They may not always know they're doing it, but they are. Some of my greatest support has come from the most unlikely places; co-workers, cousins I never talked to before, friends of friends that I only know via the internet, bloggers that I only know through the internet, friends from college that I wasn't even that close to at the time...

God has blessed me over and over with a support system. I need to learn to refocus my attention on them rather than chasing after support from those that don't know how to give it.

Rachel

My First Award!

Dear readers, I am so excited because I have received my first ever blog award!!

TA-DA!

I would like to thank the academy and all the little people who....

Just kidding. I have to thank Aimee over at Pleasantly Demented for the award, and for the ridiculously nice things she said about me on her blog. I have been reading her blog for awhile now. She is funny, honest, and uncensored. She says things that I would only say around in private with Studdly Hubby. I think we may be soul sisters. But the thing is, she uses this biting bitter sarcasm in her writing, sometimes so that she can sneak in a more serious point, but it never gets lost. So pack up your sense of humor and visit her!

Apparently this award comes with rules. The first is to thank the person who awarded it to you. See above. The second is to share 7 secrets. Good grief, I don't know if I have 7 left after months of this blog!

1 - I hate repetitive motions. If Studdly Hubby is sitting next to me on the couch and absent-mindedly shaking his foot back and forth, I will freak out. I try to be patient, but I have learned that the longer I hold it in, the bigger the explosion will be when I let it out. This also applies to sounds. Example: At this moment, my neighbors downstairs are making some noise against the wall and I can feel my pulse quickening. 

2 - I enjoy blog feedback probably more than I should. I know you're reading it...PLEASE COMMENT!!!! Moving on...

3- I set really high standards for myself, but don't know how to meet them. Then I get upset with myself when I don't reach them.

4- I want people to like me. Of course, everyone wants people to like them, but I want everyone to like me. Completely impossible. 

5- I often have stinky feet. Ask Studdly Hubby.

6- I have an incredibly offensive sense of humor and only my husband gets to see it. Well, my brother-in-law has seen some of it as well. Really, I say dreadful things for the sake of being funny. You would think I was a horrible person if you heard it!!

7- I say excuse me if I get in my cats way. Did the same thing with Less, the family dog we had growing up. I know it's weird, but it's habit.

That was hard!! Moving on to the third rule! Sharing the love with some of my favorite blogs (in no particular order):

1- Moosh in Indy. She is a mommy to 1.5 in Indianapolis. She is another one that is funny but honest at the same time. She's shared some really dark moments and some really hilarious ones! I highly recommend her. 

2- Small Town Simplicity. Lydia is another mommy blogger who is less funny, but an amazing writer. She exudes an inner peace that I long for. She has a houseful of kids and another on the way, and is homeschooling them. I really like some of her views on parenting. Check her out!

3- Dancing in the Moonlight. Allie is a survivor of sexual assualt...a couple times over. She is amazingly strong. I am amazed at the way she keeps on keeping on, despite any setbacks. I believe in her and we have an understanding. She is an intelligent girl who I believe will go far! Proud to call her a friend. :-)

4- Bittersweet Joy. Shannon has had several recent miscarriages. She is pregnant again. If you pray, please stop and say a prayer for her now. Her blog is a very raw and very real explanation of what that experience is like. I know this is something many woman can relate to.

5- Momma Resa. A beautiful woman I had the privilege of going to school with (Concordia). She is a single mommy blogger of 2. She is an absolute delight! She is doing the best she can while not taking life too seriously. Go visit! 

I think 5 is enough. Enjoy the links!!

Rachel

SOC

I've been feeling a bit uninspired lately when it comes to writing, so I'm stealing a page out of Momma Resa's book and doing a "stream of consciousness" post - basically just writing what comes to mind.

At the moment, I'm feeling lonely. I have Studdly Hubby here next to me, and we're great. My "marital love tank" is full. But something is missing. This is something I feel from time to time. For a while I thought perhaps it came from living in too-small houses with a too-big family to being just the two of us. And maybe that is part of it. But it's not really about quantity; it's about quality. I'm feeling a need for connections. I've kind of lost touch with a couple of my best friends. One recently married and moved to California. The other recently married and is living in Michigan (we were in her EPIC wedding). I'll be the first to admit that I am terrible with long distance relationships. And I don't completely connect with that many people. There is only a small handful of people that I consider to be my sisters. (That means you Kristina and Alaine!) 

Me on the left, Studdly Hubby on the right

My Kristina and I

Now I have a new job and I'm longing to make connections there. But it's not the kind of job where there is a lot of time to sit and chat. I should probably make more of an effort to see some of my co-workers outside of work, but I have realized in this past year that I have some mild social anxiety. I blame this on not being allowed to go out or to visit friends when I was younger and especially a teenager, along with carrying around a disgusting secret. 

Regardless of the reason, I get nervous. I really have to psych myself up if I'm going to go to something outside of work. One-on-one and very small groups are better than parties and big groups. Those almost cripple me socially. I panic and worry that I'm going to be judged. An example of this is the NYE party Studdly Hubby and I went to this year. It was at his friend's house in New Palestine. I really like his friend and his friend has really great friends from what I can tell. They were all playing Dance Central. The whole time they were playing, I kept thinking "That looks like so much fun! We need to get this game!" But to embarrass myself by playing it with an audience of strangers? There was no freaking way. Inhibited does even begin to describe it.

In other news, I'm hoping to begin monthly get-togethers with my mother-in-law and aunts-in-law. We're trying to get a date nailed down for February to meet for dinner. There the closest family I have (geographically speaking) and they are awesome women. I could really benefit from having them in my life more than 2-3 times a year! I think this will help my feelings of loneliness as well. I have no doubt that part of it is due to the relationship I have with my mom right now and not knowing my father. These are things that are really important to me right now. 

Anyway, thanks for reading. It feels good to flex my blog muscle a little. ;-)

Rachel

Another Hair-Brained Idea

I would love to create a group for survivors of sexual assault, representative of Central Indiana. I don't know what it all would be comprised of. It's more of a vague idea right now.

I think I would like to have a survivor's retreat (very much unlike the one I write about here). It would be a weekend of healing, bonding with others and learning/sharing helpful tips for coping with life after abuse. 

Mmm...and maybe a little of this too. :-)

I would like to create a survivor's conference. A full-day event focused on learning. There would be a key-note speaker and a variety of breakout sessions. There could be some about Victim's Rights, writing workshops, tips for looking for a therapist, info about PTSD, how families are affected when one member is abused, sexual dysfunction related to abuse, body image, etc. There's no shortage of options really.

There could be a (bi?)monthly newsletter full of helpful information, stories, advice and resources.

Maybe there could even be smaller groups, within the larger group for more local support. 

I personally know so many amazing women that are also survivor's, and they don't know each other! And I  know there are many, many more out there. Think of what we could all learn from each other! We could create such an amazing circle of support.

Is there anything out there like this already? Do you have any ideas? Any constructive criticism? Is it truly just a hair-brained idea?

Rachel

Show and Tell

Do you remember "Show and Tell" in school? I think we had it in kindergarten. Each week, one student gets the chance to bring something in that they normally wouldn't bring to school, to show the class and tell us about it. This could be a pet, a loved one, a Barbie Hot Wheels car that everyone could drive around the parking lot (o yeah, that kid was popular that day), etc.

I LOVED Show and Tell. But then I loved attention as a kid too. And I'm still playing Show and Tell today, but in a different way.

When I meet someone new, and I've decided we're going to be friends (or I'd like them to be), I feel a deep need to tell them my story. I want them to know "who I really am". I don't think my past completely defines who I am, but it is a significant part of my life. My hobby is my blog, which is all about my past. My family relationships are affected by my past.  It is a part of me. And I just want to be honest about who that is.

I'm loving my new job, and I love the people that I work closely with. I technically have 2 part-time jobs, which means I have 2 bosses. They are both awesome, but in different ways. I really feel like I have a growing friendship with another one of the girls that works in Activities as well. And now I'm at that point where I want to Show and Tell. I want them to know what makes me tick.

I think a large part of this is because everything was kept secret for so long that I still feel liberated by sharing it. I feel empowered.  I have no secrets!! 

Rachel

Rape vs. Sexual Abuse

In general, I try not to compare people's suffering, regardless of my own past. For example, let's say a family that has been living comfortably just lost a source of income and are therefore losing their home. Horrible? Yes. Worst thing that could happen? No. But you can go to that family and say "At least this, that and the other thing didn't happen." It's not particularly comforting. This is the scariest thing in their life right now.

I think of this often when it comes to abuse and sexual assault. You can't tell someone who was beat as a child that they should be grateful they weren't molested by their father. You can't tell someone who was molested by their father that they should be grateful they weren't beat by their father. These are events that damage someone on a deep level.

However, I've talked to more than one person who was raped (sometimes on more than one occasion) and couldn't help but think, "Wow. I can't even imagine what that must have been like." I think about how hard it has been to get to where I am today without that experience. 

I was listening to this song the other day in the car:

These lyrics stood out to me:

What it meant to me will eventually be a memory of a time when I tried so hard
And got so far
But in the end
It doesn't even matter

I've been thinking a lot about my friend who was raped twice. I thought about all the work I knew she had done after the first time to heal. I know how exhausting some of that can be. To have to do it all again...I can't even imagine.

That, my friends, is resilience. 

The strange this is, some of those people say they can't imagine what I've been through. Why is that? Why are we so willing to claim the other person has suffered more? Is it a coping mechanism? Am I still unable to face the reality of the horror of my childhood and adolescence? 

I feel like I'm facing it much more than I did in the past, but I suspect it is still somewhat hidden - locked away. The few times I have allowed myself to let it in, it was terrifying. One night had a breakdown and sobbed for hours. Another time I had a horrific flashback and was completely distracted all day, in a way that is very unlike me. 

In the end, it doesn't matter whose experience was worse. We were all hurt, and are all healing, in one way or another. We often see similar lasting effects from these experiences, even if they were different. The really great thing is, we can draw from each other's strength. We don't have to do this alone.

Anyway, that's what's on my mind tonight. Hope you all are having a great start to your new year so far!

Rachel

Bonus:

This is the first page of my new planner.
I love it! It's full of inspiring artwork/sayings.
Will share more later!

Angels and Blog Buddies

Today's post is brought to you by...Angel Wings.

This if from the movie "Constantine" AMAZING wings on the angel Gabriel

Angel wings are one of my favorite images in the whole world. They are beautiful, soft and powerful all at once. I remember reading a story in Reader's Digest when I was much younger. The main character had survived a fire. She credited angels for her safety. She said that in the middle of the fire, she felt strong wings envelop her, protecting her from the flames. 

That story really stuck with me. I can vividly recall lying on my bed in the basement, feeling afraid and vulnerable. My stepdad would often come to my room at night when I was asleep, kneel next to my bed and reach under the covers to touch me. I would wake up, but pretend to stay asleep, and turn the other way. He would then kneel on the other side of the bed and try again. This could go on for awhile. For a long time it was important for me to sleep with my sheets well tucked in. 

In those times when I was so afraid, I would imagine an angel, holding me in his arms and wrapping his massive wings around me so that I was fully enveloped. It was incredibly comforting and was often enough to lull me to sleep.

Today, I was feeling especially stressed out about family things (I'll write about that another time). So I decided to take a bath, without the distraction of my Netflix. I had a lot to work through in my mind, so I lit some candles and played my "Relax" playlist on my iTunes.

This song was a bit more upbeat than the others and reminded me of running. Suddenly, in my mind, I was a little girl, I was running through a wooded area, and my stepdad was right behind me with his hands on me. I continued running, then jumped, kicking back against him and suddenly found myself flying through the air, sans wings. Once in the air I was an adult and had Aaron by my side. We were holding hands and flying through the sky. I looked back and saw that my stepdad had been knocked down by my kicking and appeared unconscious. The rest of my family was running along, as if though they too were trying to fly, but couldn't make the jump. 

On an unrelated note, I have found another blogger who is a survivor of sexual assault. I "met" her through a mutual friend. Even though our experiences are very different, I feel like we have an understanding of each other. It's amazing to actually talk to someone who "gets" things that you generally don't talk about, but instantly recognize in someone else. Dancing in the Moonlight is the name of her blog, and you can read it here. 

She also came across this quote the other day and said it reminded her of me:

"I swore never to be silent whenever human beings endure suffering and humiliation. We must always take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented." - Elie Wiesel

That one's going on the Quote Page. :-)

Rachel

Happy New Year

Happy New Year to all my readers. Thank you for being a part of my life. The support I received this year has been much needed and not taken for granted. I couldn't do it without you.

May 2011 bring you all you hope for. May we be happier, healthier and more peaceful.

"And there’s a hand my trusty friend !

And give us a hand o’ thine !

And we’ll take a right good-will draught,

for auld lang syne."

Rachel

My Heroes

I don't have a lot of heroes. I don't have a ton of role models. Don't get me wrong, there are a few, but I am very selective. I like a lot of people, but there are not many I aspire to be like or draw inspiration from.

Maybe it's because in the end, I had to be my own hero.

I'm not trying to toot my own horn, but really, no one else could save me. I couldn't have felt safe enough to disclose without Studdly Hubby's support. I couldn't have made it through the trial without him by my side every second, and my friends at Concordia. But I had to be the one to disclose. I had to be the one to report it to the police and follow through with the trial. 

Today, I was reminded of another hero. Elizabeth Smart.

For those of you who don't recall her story, she was kidnapped from her own home in the middle of the night in 2002, and held captive for 9 months by a man and his wife. They kept her in the wilderness near her home and abused and raped her. The fact that she was even found alive was a miracle in itself.

A week and a half ago, on December 10, that man was finally convicted. His wife was also convicted in November 2009. (You can read more details about the story here.)

The Abductor, Brian David Mitchell

I have seen Elizabeth's Oprah interview, as well as some short clips from other media interviews. She handles herself with such grace and dignity. She remains firm in her faith.

"Elizabeth Smart told reporters Friday that she was "thrilled" that Brian David Mitchell had been convicted in her kidnapping. "I hope that not only is this an example that justice can be served in America, but that it is possible to move on after something terrible has happened," she said." (From AOL News)

I don't know what issues she is dealing with on a personal level. I know she has been in counseling. But from what I can see, she is happy and at peace. She isn't angry. She is moving on with her life and seems successful. She, my friends, is resilient. 

Don't you find that remarkable?! I certainly do. I would love to sit down to lunch with her and ask her, woman to woman, how she is doing. 

If she can succeed in life after the horror of her experience, surely I can put together the pieces of my own life.

Who are your heroes? Is there someone the inspires you to be your best or someone you want to be like?

Rachel

Best 4 Years of Your Life?!

Have you ever heard someone comment that high school was the best 4 years of their life? How did this ever get started?! For a long time, I thought I was the only person that disagreed with that because of everything I was dealing with. Eventually, I talked to other people who felt the same way. 

I'm not saying all of high school is terrible. My teen years certainly had it's magical moments, but I just don't think it's all it's cracked up to be. You're growing up. You're anxious to be independent and to be treated like an adult. When you make the effort to behave as an adult, you are not treated with any respect. Some teens respond to this by acting out. Others manage to remain calm and show how truly mature they are.

Freshman year of high school, I was getting male attention for the first time. I was making friends with girls, as much as I could for only interacting at school anyway. I also had an eating disorder (read more about that here). I had my first boyfriend and he took advantage of me. I was more confident than I was in grade school, but still not feeling great.

This was the entire school my freshman year. I'm in the
middle in the back.

Over the next 3 years, the abuse was intensifying. At the same time, I got my first job. I was a hostess and then waitress at a local diner. I loved my job and the chance to get away from home. I also loved that I had my first serious boyfriend, Chris. I convinced myself that I loved him and we were "secretly" engaged by the time I was 17. "Secretly" meaning it had be hidden from my step-dad who wasn't even allowing me to date. This of course took its toll, among other things, and the relationship ended right before my 18th birthday. 

Throughout this time, I did very little homework. I was going to school, working, taking care of my family and being kept up late at night with the abuse. While I've heard of people who were still able to be excellent students in these kinds of situations (and worse!), I did not have whatever it takes. I almost failed high school altogether. Had I been going to a large public school, I would have undoubtedly slipped through the cracks and probably never finished. For whatever reason, my mom never seemed too concerned with it, so I'm not sure she would have been pushing me forward too much. 

However, I was fortunate enough to attend a brand new Lutheran High School. For whatever reason, my step-dad was opposed to sending me to a public school. Oddly enough it's probably the best thing he ever did for me that eventually led to his downfall and eventual imprisonment. The school was so small, I graduated in a class of 5 girls. I really should not have graduated at all, but I believe they didn't want to fail anyone in their very first graduating class. The principal and teachers gave me some work to do to try to bring up my grades just enough to squeak by. 

The Graduates...all 5 of us! I'm in the middle again.

My senior year I took the ACT and got an overall score of 26. I am particularly proud of this because it proves that I am smarter than my grades make me appear. Also, a girl who was a junior at that time and a complete perfectionist got a 24 and I was stunned that I had done better than her. Somewhere around this time, I applied to Concordia University in Ann Arbor, a mere 45 minutes from home. Without that test score, and the fact that it was my principal's alma mater, I do no think I would have been accepted. Had I not been accepted, I would have been (or felt like I was) trapped at home.  I do not know where I would be today. Truthfully, I think I may not be alive today. Or he wouldn't. It's hard to say which way I would have eventually snapped. 

But God knew what he was doing, as always.

Two weeks into my freshman year I met the love of my life. And he built me up and supported me in a way I didn't even know was possible. I found the courage to take ownership of my life. (Read more about THAT drama here.)

So that was my high school experience. How about yours? Do you think it was the best 4 years of you life?

Rachel

Peace

During my retreat to Nashville, IN, I came across oodles of gift ideas. I couldn't really afford anything, but they were great ideas. There were fishing lures for my father-in-law, bags and wallets for Michelle, a card for Melissa (which I would have gotten had she not been with me), a bunch of stuff for my mother-in-law, etc. Of course I had to bring Aaron a souvenir so I bought him some Fair Oaks cheese at the place where we did the wine tasting (even though it can be purchased in Lafayette as well), and some rock candy and Nerds Rope.

But, being a bit of a material girl, I found even more things for me! One of the shops we were in had a collection of Willow Tree figurines. I've always really liked them, but didn't have any of my own. A friend had bought me one of the angel ones for my 18th birthday, but unfortunately she had broken. I perused the selection, hoping to find something that was significant for my life right now. They have a lot with a mommy and baby, mommy and child, daddy and child, pregnant woman, couples, etc. 

And then, right at eye level, there she was. A solitary figure, holding a teal bird, entitled "Peace". 

The first thing I thought of was my actual self in my inner child work. I always see her as wearing a long white dress, and often hear birds singing. I've been keeping my eyes peeled for some time for some kind of decorative element that would remind me of the happy place every time I look at it. And she is perfect. 

Oh, and I think Aaron liked his cheese. :-P

Thanks for reading!

Rachel

Survivors' Retreat

This past weekend, I had an opportunity to attend a survivors' retreat in Nashville, IN. It was from Friday to Saturday afternoon, and the hotel and meals were paid for. It sounded like a great opportunity! I didn't really want to go by myself, so I asked around a bit, and my friend Melissa agreed to come with me.

I picked her up on Friday and we started the 2 hour drive south. We were both excited for some girly bonding time, and for some time of healing and inspiration. We talked the whole 2 hours which made the trip go by really quickly. 

Does not do it justice in the least!

I had never been to Nashville, but I heard it was really nice. We drove through downtown and I fell in love! It is packed to the gills with little shops and restaurants, run by the friendliest folks you could imagine (the tourists were another story). It was all decorated for Christmas, and even had carolers roaming the streets. Santa was seated outside the visitor's center for photo opportunities. 

The first order of business was lunch. We found some free parking (there is actually quite a bit of it) and started the walk around town to decide where we wanted to eat. A couple blocks away from the car, I suddenly remembered the Chicago incident. I stopped dead in my tracks and turned to Melissa. I was a tiny bit panicked and told her we HAD to know EXACTLY where we had parked. Thankfully she was familiar with the Chicago incident and was very understanding! We took note of exactly where we were, and she reminded me that we were in Nashville and it was MUCH smaller than Chicago, and it does not have parking garages. After that I felt better and was able to laugh it off.

We had lunch at a cute little restaurant called "That Sandwich Place". We found the car again, without incident, and drove to the hotel where the retreat was to be held. On the way,  we both agreed that it seemed odd that we didn't get anymore information about the retreat other than the initial flyer, but I reassured Melissa that I had gotten it from a reputable source, so I wasn't too concerned. Both of us like to know what to expect and are a bit detail oriented, so it was a bit uncomfortable to feel like we were walking in blind, but we were sure it would all be fine. We found the hotel easily, and made our way to the conference rooms to see what the deal was. They told us to get checked into our rooms first, and then they would give us the information. Fine. We did that and then they gave us our itinerary.

The before and after photo Allen shared with us. And this
is relevant how?

The first 2 hours were supposed to be the welcome and opening remarks by Allen Smith, who was a contestant on Season 8 of the Biggest Loser. It seemed like a strange choice, but I figured there would be some kind of connection or tie-in to sexual assaulted. Allen was very nice and a great speaker. However, his talk seemed completely irrelevant. He never once spoke about sexual assualt, survivors of ANYTHING, women's issues, etc. He never talked about how taking care of yourself through health and fitness could be beneficial for dealing with deeper issues. He mostly talked about the TV show. I don't know how the other guests felt, but I was confused and disappointed. Melissa and I went to dinner after that. The second we got in the car, we realized that we both had the same reaction - "What the heck was that?!" We talked about it over dinner, but I kept trying to convince myself to stop being so negative, and that surely the breakout sessions would have more substance. 

I was wrong. When we went back to the conference rooms, we had a choice between a spa session and a self defense demonstration. We were already leery of the self defense because it was titled "Rape Prevention". We felt like the wording they chose was very poor and implied that victims could have prevented their rape. So we chose the spa. We expected them to talk about taking time for yourself and pamper yourself and how that can be therapeutic. Instead it was a direct-selling beauty consultant allowing us to sample products similar to Mary Kay's Satin Hands. She even had some products set out to buy and offered someone a price sheet. We waited a few minutes to see if there was going to be more to it, and finally gave up to go to "Rape Prevention". 

Does this seem intense to you?

I sensed that Melissa was feeling hesitant about this session, and I should have been more sensitive right then and there. But we went in anyway to see what it was all about. It started with the instructor explaining her philosophy and how she does the class. Normally it is about a 3 hour ordeal, but she had to condense it for the purposes of the session. Bad idea. She also said that she always starts with the "worst case scenario". Basically, this means that you lay on the floor and the man in the protective gear kneels between your knees as if though "rape is imminent". Most of the women in that room are survivors of some kind of sexual assault. It was a very tense situation. The next day, my shoulders were sore from being so tensed up. At one point, Melissa tried to voice her concerns to the instructor about how she felt about somethings. I don't think she felt like she understood. A moment later I could see that she was visibly upset. Once there was an opening, she bolted out the door. I saw one of the women that organized the retreat follow her. I found out later that when Melissa spoke to her, the woman told her that she needed to "work through her feelings". When Melissa told her that the retreat was not what she had anticipated and that she expected more meaningful dialogue, the woman offered to "talk now". Melissa declined and went back to the hotel. I left as soon as there was an opening, partly to check on Melissa, and partly because I was not going to be participating in the session.

Once I found her, she broke down in tears and shared with me how she felt about the whole ordeal. I didn't disagree. Once we were able to have a good talk about the whole fiasco, we were able to relax! I turned on the TV, but we chatted the night away instead. We had to decide what we were going to do about the rest of the retreat. It was clear at this point that finished it would just be setting ourselves up for more frustration and disappointed. We both agreed that we would not be attending any more of it the next day and would instead check out Nashville. Finally, we each snuggled into our own beds and slept like logs.

The next morning, we took our time and ordered room service for breakfast (a first for both of us!). 

Sidenote: Nashville is apparently famous for their fried biscuits and apple butter. If you ever go, make sure you get some! There are available at several places in town.

Heavenly!

Anyway, we packed up, checked out of the hotel and stepped into 4 inches of snow! It was beautiful and perfect for a downtown stroll. We took the rest of the afternoon to check out the town. We went into all kinds of little shops. Some had kitchen supplies, craft goods, men's gifts, bath goods, jewelry, bags, etc. We even got to do a wine tasting. Each wine was particularly tasty by the way. :-) The town was so quaint and picturesque I felt like we were in a Christmas movie! Once we felt like we had seen enough for one afternoon (and Melissa's poor tootsies were soaked from stepping in snowy puddles), we drove home. 

Melissa tasting wine

Overall, it was a very enjoyable getaway, particularly once we gave up on the retreat. It was fantastic to get away from things and have someone to talk to who really understands where I'm coming from. She has a similar education background, and while our experiences were not the same, they of course had some similarities. Turns out we both has the same excellent taste in movies and television. :-)

I don't even know what to say to sum up the retreat. The whole thing did not feel very professional. Only one person had a name tag. We did not know who else that was there was running things. There was no introduction to the retreat other than "all about Allen Smith". There was no talk of why we were there, or what they felt was the purpose of the retreat. We were made to understand that our meals would be taken care of. We were given a meal voucher for $12, even though the cheapest thing on the menu was $15.95. It's a small detail, but added to everything else was a bit irritating. A lot of it did not seem very sensitive to the particular needs and concerns survivors may have. The whole thing was a hot mess. The thing that bothered me the most is that this group (that shall remain nameless) should have known better. I'm not saying I'm an expert, but COME ON! We were certain we could have done better. And maybe we will. ;-) 

A special thank you to my dear friend Melissa for saving the weekend! I would have been much more upset had I been alone, or with someone less understanding! Thanks for reading!