Eve's Two Cents

The Cycle of Abuse

2011-08-04T01:56:00.000-07:00

I've been going through a lot of my stuff lately, cleaning, organizing, getting rid of things in preparation for the upcoming move. (as of yet I still have no clue when/where we're moving, especially now that we may stay an extra month or two or maybe even stay in this expensive complex after all and just move a few doors down...or not, and maybe we'll move across town somewhere in two weeks) Going through the overflow stacks of books that didn't fit in the bookshelf, I found an old diary/dream journal thing spanning 6th grade through the year I dated Ari at age 19 (I only wrote about once every year on average, so I only filled up half, and it's not a large book).

Most of it's rather dull. Stuff about crushes and what my friends were up to. There was a little bit about my dad being wacko when I was in 6th grade. My wallet got stolen out of my backpack while I was walking between classes in the tightly packed halls (it felt like being in a herd of sheep, it was so crowded). All I really lost was my bus pass, a gift card, and my student ID. Sucky, but not the biggest loss ever. My dad decided I had to padlock the zippers on my backpack and carry the keys on a bracelet (talk about awkward to use!). And apparently I wasn't allowed to wear some necklace my grandma gave me because it "made me look like a target for pickpockets". This in a fairly low-crime, affluent area where I was more likely to get things stolen by some bored kid looking for a thrill than by anyone looking for valuables because they needed the money (not that any necklace I had was worth anything at all). And to put it in a little more perspective, that was the last time I've been stolen from, other than some jerk kids at Faerieworlds that got caught making off with my parasol (who were later thrown out when linked to an earlier, more serious theft), and I live in the "bad" part of town.

Anyway, the thing that caught my attention was the final entry, my comments on an interpretation of a tarot reading I did about 5 months into my relationship with Ari. The card that was supposed to represent "inner emotions" was a bunch of negative stuff (unfulfilled hopes, disappointment, pessimism, bad luck). This is what I said about it: "That basically sums up what I'm feeling. I feel like I'm waiting perpetually for the storm to pass and things to get better, waiting for him [Ari] to love me fully, but I don't know if or when that will happen. It scares me." That feeling of always waiting for it to get better, to go back to the way things were in the beginning when they seemed so caring, is a classic part of the cycle of abuse. That's how he kept me from leaving for so long despite how much being with him sucked. I knew what it felt like to feel happy with him and I kept thinking it could be like that again if I could just stop setting him off by being playful, if I could just be a better girlfriend and be patient and understanding through his fits of jealousy and self-loathing, if I could just stop having PTSD panic attacks because he couldn't handle my negativity and I was bringing him down, if I could be accepting of his need to dominate me in all parts of our relationship, if I could manage not to ask too much of him in the bedroom because he wasn't comfortable with anything but receiving, if I could just wait for his cue on how to act in every situation and do everything he wanted of me because he clearly knew better, being 4 whole years older... Basically, if I could stop being my own person and be his little marionette, then he would bring that feeling back. The feeling I entered the relationship on the premise of. The feeling I thought I was just a little ways away from getting back to, not realizing until years after we broke up that I spent all but the first month or two without that feeling. And I thought it was my fault, that I made it go away, so I could make it come back by being "better". I stayed a whole year, and by the end of it I hated myself and everything around me and I felt like I could never be happy again.

That, exactly, right there, is emotional abuse. Treating you badly but making you think that it's your fault, that you're making them do it. I wish it weren't so hard to recognize when you're in the middle of it. As aware as I was of being miserable, I wasn't able to connect that to the idea that it didn't have to be that way.

I don't think I really have a point with this, except that hindsight is 20/20. It still baffles me to think of all the crap I put up with. And if it weren't for a great therapist, my boyfriend Mike, and humongous amount of hard work on my part, I'd probably still feel like I fucked everything up and deserved to feel worthless. I can't believe I tried to be friends with that rapey douchebag after all that.

CSP

2011-08-03T02:21:00.000-07:00

Well, here I am staying up way too late when I have to work the next morning because my nails need painting. It's not as silly as it sounds.

I have a chronic problem with compulsive skin picking, also known as dermatillomania. I also have a milder case of trichotillomania (compulsive hair pulling, which for me is mainly plucking eyebrow hairs and eyelashes when I don't want to). As far as CSP goes, I don't have it as bad as a lot of people who struggle with it. I get strong urges to pick at things like ingrown hairs, any little bumps on my arms and legs, any little acne blemish, and most of all, any imperfection in my cuticle/fingertip area. Seeing as I tend to get very dry skin on my hands from working at the library, which is only partially mitigated by intense and frequent lotion application, the finger picking is especially bad. On a bad day, I'll pick until my fingers are bleeding and my nail beds are raw. Any little pressure hurts for days after.

It's not just a nervous habit. I do it when I'm nervous, but I also do it when I feel fine, or bored, or if my hands aren't occupied (sometimes even if they are), sometimes to the point of picking instead of doing whatever I was trying to do because the urge is so strong. Some nights it keeps me up a couple extra hours because I can't leave it alone. Sheer willpower is not always enough to stop me. Sometimes I don't notice I'm doing it until it's too late. When I have the urge to pick and I don't do it, it feels wrong. I feel a little anxious and sometimes very physically uncomfortable like I need the sensation of picking to fix whatever it is (especially if it's a cuticle thing). It can drive me a little nuts.

I practice trying to stay calm and relaxed. I tend to unconsciously tense a lot of the time, which also aggravates back, shoulder, neck, and jaw pain and tightness. It's probably related to my anxiety/PTSD problems. Conscious efforts to relax do help, at least when it comes to conscious picking. I practice keeping my hands still. I try not to fidget with the creases in my clothes. Sometimes I sit on my hands so I can't do anything. But that doesn't help with picking when I don't realize I'm doing it. The one thing I've found that helps is painting my nails.

It's funny, I used to hate the feeling of having lacquer on my nails. It felt weird and unnatural. But that's exactly what makes it work for me. It smooths the edges of my nails and slightly reduces their sensitivity which makes it harder to pick as easily and makes picking not feel right or satisfying. I don't pick at the nail polish because it doesn't feel good or satisfying. The urge isn't there. If I keep painting them every week or two as the polish chips off, I pick significantly less. Last time I managed to go over a month without any major picking. I feel more confident and attractive when I don't pick, not to mention the reduction in pain. It's really nice not having little scabs and irritated red bumps all over my arms and legs and face and not having little stinging cuts on my fingers. I once had a doctor ask if I had a skin condition because of all the scabs on my arms. And if I paint my toenails, that helps with my urge to cut them as short as I can, a problem which has caused a lot of bleeding and soreness over the years, as well as gradual shortening of my toenails. My pinky toenail at one point was just under 1 millimeter. (I don't think there's an official name for that compulsion, but it's yet another impulse control issue)

It's been nearly a month since the last time I painted my nails. I was being so good before that, but I've slipped up a lot lately. It's really been bugging me. So here I am, waiting for my nails to dry so I can go to bed. The color this time is plum.

Bits and Bobs

2011-07-22T01:29:00.000-07:00

Hokay, so I keep meaning to update a bit with what's been going on. It's been a bit chaotic, to say the least.

Faerieworlds was right before my last post, and it was awesome. We made a fairly good amount of money for our first fair. We had a great time and can't wait to go back again. We vend again at Faerieworlds Harvest in mid September. Woo!

There was also a weird sort of run in with Ari about a week after. He unexpectedly showed up at a birthday party for a mutual friend with his girlfriend. I think Mike and I handled it as well as could be expected, but it was very uncomfortable for both of us when he would try to chat. I don't know why he thought that was okay. When his girlfriend introduced herself to me and I told her my name, she said she'd heard wonderful things about me and that Ari had nothing but good memories about me. She seemed nice enough, so I want to believe she meant that. Which would mean Ari's been lying to her and she simply doesn't know some of the darker parts of his past. Not terribly surprising, considering he has a well-established history of lying to the women in his life. Still, I expected him to try and paint me in a bad light either to make himself feel better or to make her dislike me or distrust anything I might say against him. Anyway, a week or two after the party, I sent him a slightly nasty email telling him in no uncertain terms that he was not to try talking to me again should we find ourselves in close proximity again. I'll only keep being civil if he leaves me the hell alone. His presence still makes me want to vomit. I think I'm okay with his girlfriend talking to me, but it's a bit awkward having her think I'm on any kind of okay terms with Ari. I might have to say something if it happens again.

To add to the recent chaos, I witnessed an assault a couple weeks ago with Mike and Ashley. Scared the bejeesus out of me. I'd never had to call the police before, so I got really shaky on the phone. Plus the man doing the assaulting looked like he was trying to choke and throttle to death the guy he was assaulting. There was lots of screaming. Mike was able to pull the attacker off and keep him away without getting injured, and the guy who was assaulted escaped with bruises on his neck. Ashley got most of it on film, which helped the police. And they caught the guy. Arrested him in the middle of dinner at a nice restaurant with his family. That made me feel a lot better. I hope there's enough evidence to get him jail time.

I also found out at the beginning of the month that we're being forced to move at the end of August. Our apartment complex wants to renovate our unit like they've done with most of the other ones in the last few years, so they're not letting us renew our lease when it's up. They offered us one of the renovated units, but it's $200 more a month, which we don't have right now. So we're apartment hunting. It's hard because we're already at the low end of the average rent around here, so there aren't many places to chose from. And the fact that we have a cat only makes it harder. It came as a bit of a shock at first, since we've been in this apartment for the last 8 years. I knew we'd have to move at some point, but I always expected us to have more time to plan and be able to move when we decided we were ready.

Mike and I are also trying to move out on our own soon. My mom's planning a likely move back to the city my grandma lives in in about a year. It'll be good for her being much closer to work and good for my grandma having her nearby. I don't plan on moving with her though, since I'd have to quit my job here and I'd be fairly isolated from any friends (other than my grandma, of course, whom I can still visit from here). So I'll have to move out by then anyway. Mike's been getting the moving out itch lately too, and we both feel like it's just getting to be time to make that leap. Plus we've been wanting to live together for ages. Hopefully, in a few months he'll get his financial aid, we'll get a couple roommates on board, and try to find a place around here that'll take us. It could be as little as a month or two after my mom, my brother, and I move out of our current place. It'll be nice for my mom to have a real bedroom again instead of the living room. And as you may have gathered from the fact that I'm talking about getting a place nearby, the Portland move is on hold indefinitely. Some plans have changed, like school for both of us, and interesting things are starting to happen around here. Things that it would be a bad idea to leave in the middle of. I've got the mask thing suddenly taking center stage for me, and Mike's looking at possibly getting a full band together. Portland might have to wait a few years, so here's hoping I can afford to visit every so often instead.

I think I may have mentioned once or twice in previous posts that I've dropped out of school. Possibly for good. It's mainly for mental health reasons. I was having so many panic attacks at school or on my way to school that I was barely making it to class at all. My depression was also getting to the point where I was barely doing any homework. Not being in school has brought all of that back to a much more manageable level. Also, if I can't afford the therapy that would make me capable of going back to school, I can't justify trying to transfer to a 4 year school where I'll need student loans to pay for the classes I'll be failing because of all the panic attacks I'll continue to have. So there's that. Thanks, healthcare system. I'm also not completely sure I really want to do any of the jobs my degree(s) of choice would help me get. Life is too short not to pursue some kind of happiness, and leathercraft is fulfilling to me in a way few other things are. And I'm good at it. It's not exactly a common skill set either. I may not become filthy rich, but at least with a lifestyle of creativity and traveling to vend at all the faires I like, I'll probably feel more sane (I know I did at Faerieworlds last month). If it really doesn't work out in the end, I can probably go back to library school or get that degree in Arabic or French. And at least then I will be able to say I really gave my best shot at doing what I actually wanted with my life. Not everyone can say that.

I'm Not Dead

2011-06-22T22:49:00.000-07:00

I promise, I'm not dead! I've just been super busy trying to get it together and prep for Faerieworlds (which was last weekend and was the most awesome thing ever).

I will update soon! I hope! There will probably be stuff about FW, my likely final time dropping out of school, what the heck I'm doing with my life right now, maybe some random bits of media stuff that I think are cool, and maybe something about how far my hair has grown out because I can (remember when I was posting about that goal?). And stuff! And my new car, since I just bought my first car a few weeks ago. She's beatup and wonderful and her name is Bessie. I will subject you to photos, I promise.

More later! Hopefully soon later! With any luck you'll soon get sick of me because I'll be posting so much! (I can dream, right?)

(sorry about all the exclamation points, I just had a big piece of dark chocolate)

Email

2011-03-06T19:33:00.000-08:00

I have been sitting on this in my Gmail drafts for months. Last May when my grandpa passed away, I got an unwelcome "condolence" email from my dad. I went back and forth trying to decide whether to respond telling him to fuck off. Eventually I wrote a reply, but I still wasn't sure about sending it. Today, when I was cleaning out some old emails, I came across it again. I touched it up a little, and before I could change my mind, I hit send. This is what I said:

I was just going to ignore this email, but seeing as you have contacted me out of the blue about once a year for the last couple years, which suggests that you may do it again, I thought I'd take this opportunity to try and make this clear: I do not want you to contact me. I do not wish to see you or hear from you ever, in any form, unless you are contacting me specifically to apologize for sexually and verbally abusing me without making any excuses. I certainly don't expect you to be at all interested in taking even the slightest bit of responsibility for that, considering how quick you've been to cover your own ass at my expense, so I doubt I will ever want anything to do with you.

I hope you've stopped pressuring Russell to try to convince me to stop talking about what you did to me. If you haven't already, please stop now. None of this has anything to do with him, and he wouldn't be able to make me stop talking about it no matter what he could say to me. All it did when you started pressuring him was to stress him out in a big way. You're lucky he still wants anything to do with you, considering you smashed his head into the wall when he was a kid and abused him physically and verbally for years. Make do with that, it's more than you deserve.

By the way, you're not winning any points with the girls or anyone else by trying to make it out as though I'm just delusional and spiteful. They know what you did. Alina saw my blog. Anyone can see it. Most of the family knows. It's not going to just go away, and I'm not going to stop talking and writing about it because healing from all the damage you did is much more important than protecting you from the scorn of a few dozen people.

In regards to the content of your email, there is nothing consoling about hearing from you. There is nothing about the loss of a family member that suddenly makes it acceptable or appropriate for you to contact me. Think about it: I want nothing to do with you because you sexually abused me and you refuse to take any responsibility for that or do anything to make it better. You have been alternately saying that I made the whole thing up out of spite and that I was convinced by a counselor that it happened, as a case of false recovered memories. Now, there are a lot of holes in your story. Why would I even have spite except for the reason that you did something horrible to me? False recovered memories are exceedingly rare. And I never forgot it in the first place, much as I would have loved to. That certainly made adolescence interesting. Again, think: is there any part of this situation that suggests I would be happy about hearing from you? Do you even care about that? Is there anything here that suggests that contacting me is anything less than creepy? I think not. That goes for telling me that you love me, as well. Those were the words you used when you were molesting me. Coming from you, they're creepy and disgusting, full of possession and manipulation. You always said actions speak louder than words, and your actions have fallen tremendously short of those words. I am no longer your daughter in any sense other than strictly biological. You are no family of mine.

Do not contact me ever again.

-Eve

I don't expect it'll change anything. Either he'll just ignore it and keep trying to exert pressure on me through my brother every once in a while, or maybe he'll respond with some kind of manipulative bullshit attempt at sounding wronged. But damn, did that feel good to write! I felt like that giant paragraph at the end was kind of awkwardly written, but I couldn't come up with a better way to say it. Anyway, maybe it'll get through, maybe it won't, but I've been wanting to hurl something at him for ages telling him in no uncertain terms what he did and what that means. It feels great to get this off my chest!

A Revealing Conversation

2011-03-05T10:00:00.000-08:00

A while ago when I was cleaning out some old files on my computer, I came across this instant messaging conversation I'd saved between my dad and me. It was almost half-way through my senior year of high school, not long before I ended up dropping out. I was in the middle of trying to claw my way free of a long bout of suicidal depression. We were discussing my plans for finishing high school and starting college. The England/summer stuff refers to the 3 week trip to England I was planning to take with my friends from camp (my first time leaving California and my first non-camping vacation--admittedly, a higher priority for me than starting college right away). I was living with my mom at the time, seeing him only on Sundays. Here's a taste of the kind of "support" and "guidance" I got.

The only editing has been to remove the usernames (I apologize for the lack of capitalization I was using at the time).

Dad: So, whatcha gonna do?

Me: about what?

Dad: life

Dad: career?

Dad: vacation?
Me: well, there's all that i just told you about (dropping classes), the rest i'm figuring out still

Me: but having the school stuff better figured out makes it easier, less stress

Me: i need to get my birth certificate to get my passport

Me: and i need to find an affordable plane ticket to heathrow airport

Me: and make sure i make enough money between now and june to cover the rest

Me: i think mom'll help cover food costs at least

Me: i may look for a different or second job at some point after i graduate

Me: and i still plan to go to DVC in the fall

Dad: sSo you'll have four classes?

Me: more, there's the TA thing for my physics teacher and the history class from last year that i'm retaking

Dad: How will u afford college ?
Dad: If you don't plan for that, it won't be there

Me: my job and loans, grants, and scholarships

Me: whatever financial aid i qualify for

Dad: better put the other plans on hold until you can get there

Dad: With those grades grants and scholarships are not likely, that I know of

Dad: Does TA get you a grade? Or is it just for money?

Dad: Why make it tough for yourself?

Me: TA gets me credits to pass high school, no money

Me: there's still financial aid available and loans

Me: and i'm going to england this summer, i need to

Dad: But with your mom's salary, you may not qualify for financial aid

Me: i'll find a way, even if neither of you can help me out at all

Dad: Can you help yourself? What are you doing to make it a success?

Dad: or is that just put off until it just "happens?"

Me: i'm working, i'm not putting it off

Dad: Looks like anything else is more important to you, so that's what you'll do. That's probably not what you think about it.

Me: and that's why i'm thinking about finding a second job

Dad: Why should you have to make money when you're almost failing classes as it is?

Me: it's not more important, but it is necessary

Me: i have to make money because you and mom can't pay for my education and other things i need

Dad: you are 18, now, so it's your decision. Think carefully because you'll need $3000/year at DVC

Me: i know

Dad: +expenses

Dad: Where does that come from?

Dad): It's unlikely that working full time without a diploma will earn much.

Me: that's why i'm taking action to make sure i get a diploma

Me: i just explained how i'm doing that, remember?

Dad: With honors?

Dad: Actually, you didn't

Me: one honors class, one AP

Dad: grades do matter

Me: i told you about what i talked to my counselor about and the classes i'm taking/changing

Me: i know grades matter, why are you trying to make me feel bad again?

Me: i just got myself somewhat emotionally stable, i'm working productively towards getting my life on track and you're telling me everything i'm doing wrong

Dad: Feel any way you need to. If the planning is bad, then you'll feel bad about it, no fault of anyone at all

Me: this isn't a good time to bombard me with reprimands, could it wait until the semester ends and i'm not so emotionally unstable? i'll get more done that way

Dad: Asking you to think about your future and putting college ahead of other pursuits isn't attacking you

Dad: It never seems to be a good time to ask you to do anything else than what you want to do, and now is the time to plan for next years college, not next year

Me: i know you want me to think about it, that what this whole mess is about in the first place, but you're doing it in a very criticizing manner, which i'm not in a good emotional position to cope with

Me: please don't undo all the work i'm doing to overcome my depression

Dad: Asking questions, and pointing out the obvious is not criticism. I'm just pointing out to you that where you plant your tree is where it grows

Dad: The choices are yours to make, not mine

Dad: Whatever you choose to do is your choice

Dad: You are the one making that decision, not anyone else I know of

Me: when i tell you what i''m doing to make things better, please don't go tell me everything i should be doing, i know what i should be doing, i'm working on it

Me: i don't want every conversation about school to turn into a lecture

Me: anyway, my emotional well-being is my top priority right now, in order to better be able to perform in school and make sane decisions

Dad: That is what parents are for, as you may someday discover. Parents are to tell you those things you may not want to hear, but which are things that may matter to you in the future.

Me: you've told me all these before, and why are you telling me again now?

Dad: I can't tell you how many piano students I heard tell their parents: " I wish you hadn't let me quit, but had make me work harder."

Dad: Truth is truth. If I tell you things based on lies, then I'm a liar, which wastes our time and credibility

Dad: I have no time to waste

Me: i am working harder, please don't press me too hard, i'm focusing on doing well in school right now, if i spend too much more time stressing about college right now it'll make me unable to get anything done

Me: school stress is the main source of my current crisis

Dad: I am always there to blame, but not if you did something else rather than get ready to do that which you avow

Me: i need support in this, loads of criticism right now won't help anybody

Dad: So it seems that you must have your fun at the expense of quality grades. That's what I'm pointing out that others have pointed out to me, and I see that

Dad: Disagreeing with you isn't criticism, it's disagreement.

Me: what is this fun you speak of?

Dad: I have no power over your decision, so it rests with you to decide your future. The fun you choose is to go to England instead of working full time as a student to prepare academically and financially to go to College

Dad: It's the old "you cannot serve two masters" thing

Me: going to england has nothing to do with my grades

Me: i'm not off in england instead of doing my school work

Dad: There is only so much energy, and there are so many hours in a day, no more.

Dad: IF one is getting two jobs instead of one, while Rome burns, (flunking or almost flunking courses), then it's obviously too much to juggle, time and energy wise

Dad: Something has to go or everything suffers

Me: i said a second job maybe after i'm done with high school and have more free time, not right now

Dad: It's the choice of doing everything badly, or enough things well

Dad: So in essence, free time after high school will be spent in earning money, not going to College?

Dad: or in England, and in having 2 jobs to pay for it

Me: i didn't say that either, i'll go to school, and if there's time in my schedule i'll get a second job

Me: dvc doesn't take up that many hours a week

Dad: That's not the way College works. That's a huge mistake. College takes more time than High School does

Me: it doesn't take 2 jobs to pay for england

Me: i already have most of the money for that

Dad: I'm pointing out that 2 jobs and College don't mix

Me: and i make enough to pay for dvc almost entirely on my own if i live at home

Me: i'm also considering finding a different job to replace my current one

Dad: But that's without attending DVC at the same time

Me: i don't work many hours at my job, it's part-time

Me: 10 hours a week, that's not much

Dad: Well, if you get the same grades at DVC that you have at Las Lomas, there isn't any way they would keep you there.

Me: dvc doesn't take up so much class time as high school, i can spend more time on schoolwork and do better

Dad: 10 hours seems to have had a profound effect on your grades.

Me: and have 4 classes a semester, not 7

Dad: 4 years to take a 2 year program, then, I'm guessing?

Me: no, 2 years to take 2 year program

Me: don't criticize me for things i haven't done or planned to do

Dad: 4 classes a semester?

Dad: Just asking questions. I can't criticize that which is not yet done

Me: and i currently have 7 classes at LL, i'm changing it around next semester, but it'll still be at least 6

Dad: So where do the 4 classes/semester come in?

Me: there are 4 classes this semester i'm aiming to pass

Dad: I am not criticizing. I am asking questions, and offering opinions. If those sound critical, then they sound critical. However, they are based on experience and advice from other who are successful

There you have it. Looking back, I feel like I could've stood up for myself more, but I was doing pretty well for that time of my life. This conversation is pretty mild compared to most of the ones I had with him, but you can kind of get a feel for how much he liked to criticize and tear me down, no matter how hard I was trying (and how he deflects and denies it when you call him on it). It's interesting to look at.

I was working towards managing my depression, had a plan in place for finishing high school on time and starting at community college after that, was working part-time to prepare financially for college and other important endeavors (knowing that my father was bankrupt and eternally unemployed and my mother was working hard making ends meet, I couldn't assume I'd get a free ride), and was generally trying to take responsibility for my future in a way that most parents could be supportive of. And yet, in his eyes this was somehow much more irresponsible than destroying my mental health to get perfect grades in hopes that the scholarship fairy would appear and give me a full ride at a four year private school. Y'know, with my impressive extra-curricular activities of staying home all the time and being broke.

And that is a small window into an example of emotional abuse.

Judge Gives Rapist No Jail Time Because Victim Was "Inviting"

2011-02-25T10:00:00.000-08:00

Judge Gives Rapist No Jail Time Because Victim Was "Inviting"

“In a revolting decision, a Canadian judge gave a convicted rapist a two-year conditional sentence with no jail time because the crime took place under “inviting circumstances” and the victim was wearing a revealing outfit.”

No-one can tell me rape culture doesn’t exist. HERE IT IS. Right here.

I shouldn’t read this stuff. It’s triggering as hell. But I care, so I read it anyway. Could shit like this stop happening please?

Rape Culture (trigger warning)

2011-02-25T01:34:00.000-08:00

Last night was pretty rough. I had a panic attack and wrote a mad, ranty post about it. Now that I'm feeling better, I want to talk a little more about it.

The thing that triggered my panic attack was this post: Things that you should just NOT say to/ask a rape victim. (trigger warning for rape, rape-culture, victim-blaming) It's a very awesome post that says a lot of important things (basically, how to not be horrible to survivors). But it's also triggering for me. Not surprising, considering the trigger warning. A lot of the things it says not to say to a survivor are things I've heard personally, sometimes directed at me, sometimes just being said in front of me. This list reminded me of some very upsetting things, which only serves to illustrate the very importance of everything it says.

To sum up quickly, don't suggest any so-called rape-prevention tips (aside from being almost universally pointless, it's another face of victim-blaming), don't offer a comparison of what you would have done (judgmental, insensitive), don't say they're lucky compared to something else you think is worse (it's not the assault Olympics), and don't refuse to believe them or tell them to prove anything (huge perpetuation of rape culture).

I've heard all of these in discussion of specific rape cases, in general conversation, and directed specifically at me. It's triggering every time. My dad's girlfriend is guilty of number four. My brother has been in the past (not sure his current position). No amount of good intentions changes how hurtful it is to say any of these things.

Rape culture is a large part of what makes my experience as a survivor so frustrating. People make jokes about rape, sexual assault, child molestation, and other similar violations. People try to tell me what I should do to prevent it from happening again, a.k.a. what I should've known to do to stop it in the first place (I'm going to scream if another person tells me to learn self-defense). A couple people have told me they don't know who to believe, or think I'm making it up (and my abuser switches between saying I made it up out of spite and saying my therapist or my ex-boyfriend planted the idea in my head....his girlfriend thinks I'm just emotionally confused and unstable....and that I made it up). I don't encounter number three as much, but I did have a random commenter on this very blog tell me my experience was no big deal because I live in the wealthy U.S.A. instead of a war-torn, poorer country (duh, war is horrible, war rapes are horrible, genocide and poverty and oppression are all horrible, and that changes nothing about the fact that what I experienced was ALSO horrible).

When I experience these things, it's re-victimizing. It tells me that what happened to me is somehow my fault, that it makes me disgusting, bad, or weak, that I should keep quiet and get over myself, or that my abuser deserves more consideration than me. It's bad enough that my abuser goes free and that I have to live a life scarred by mental illness without all the social commentary pointing at me as the problem in the equation.

Rape culture is what makes all this possible. If for some reason you don't know what rape culture is, please take a minute to read this post and educate yourself.

This post is getting long and I think I may have lost track of my original point, whatever it was. I'll just end with this: rape culture is horrible. Be a decent human being and don't perpetuate it.

Survivor

2011-02-24T02:11:00.000-08:00

People often tell me how strong they think I am when I tell them I'm a survivor and what I've been through. I don't really feel that way though. I mean, I guess I am strong in a way, since I am surviving. I fight back.

It sucks though. I would rather not. I'd rather not have a debilitating mental illness (no matter how strong I seem, it's extremely debilitating). I'd rather not have all these horrible memories. I'd rather not have to have a will of steel just to get by.

Instead of feeling strong, I'm constantly reminded of all the ways I'm fucked up. I don't mean that in a self-loathing way (I'm pretty happy with who I am, generally). I'm referring to the ways in which having PTSD limits me. My stunted social skills, my crippling anxiety, my tendency toward depression, all my triggers.

I hate it because of how much it gets in the way of living my life. I hate that I can't fix it on my own. I hate that I don't have access to treatment. I hate that I've had to drop out of school three times so far because of it (senior year of high school and twice in college).

It's 2AM and I'm not in bed because I'm having a panic attack. So much for school tomorrow.

Mental

2011-01-30T23:23:00.000-08:00

I've been having a bad mental health day today. I've been having them a bit more often lately. More panic attacks, anxiety, and bits of depression.

It's frustrating not having access to treatment for my PTSD and the related anxiety I have. There's got to be some kind of resource out there for people like me, I'm sure of it. I just can't seem to find it. I had a very good therapist, but I no longer have the money to see her. The mental health clinic run by my insurance company (Kaiser) turned me away because they don't have anyone trained to help survivors or people with trauma and it takes more than the maximum number of visits I'm allowed per year (something like 20). The nearest rape crisis center is a 30 minute drive away in Oakland and I have no way to get there on my own. They're also not accepting new clients for counseling. I feel helpless and trapped.

I need help, but I don't know what to do.

Oh, Brother

2011-01-25T22:06:00.000-08:00

As nervous as I sometimes feel about moving out of the apartment I share with my mom and brother, every now and then something happens to remind me why this move is absolutely fucking necessary.

My brother and I don't always get along. We certainly get along better than we did as children, but not by a whole lot. We mostly keep to ourselves, though we can interact briefly with friendliness and/or civility every day or two. But if we interact for too long, or talk about the wrong thing, or if he's not happy with his day, etc...suddenly he gets explosively angry. He's learned not to stab the walls or furniture or wave knives at me, but he still doesn't handle it appropriately (and I'm realizing that sentence doesn't sound good at all, but those are things he used to do).

I don't know how to write this.

It tears me apart. The door slamming, the arrogance, the raising of his voice, the gestures and faces of fury he makes over things that a typical person will only be mildly annoyed by. I don't want to demonize him. He's my brother and I care about him and I want him to be happy. Even so, that doesn't change the fact that his behavior is unacceptable. He's verbally abusive. He's physically aggressive and violent. He never does anything to physically harm me or other people, he just breaks things, hits things, stabs things, and waves sticks, poles, and broom handles around like swords. Sometimes indoors. Sometimes in communal spaces, like the kitchen. Sometimes when people are around and not necessarily a safe distance away (there have been several careless barely-misses). Nearly always closer than is comfortable. He doesn't stop if I ask or say it makes me uncomfortable.

The violence and aggression makes me anxious and scared. I don't feel safe. It makes it worse that he doesn't seem to care about that. How dare my delicate emotional needs infringe upon his fun or his need to smash his rage out?

The verbal abuse, the way he expresses his anger, the hyperbole, the slurs, the door-slamming, the long-winded blog rants about how much of a bitch I am (particularly for voicing opinions different from his, because that's obviously a personal attack), the argumentativeness. I'm not sure what to say, except that I can't fucking deal. And oh my fucking gods, the entitlement!

I know having PTSD doesn't exactly make this kind of behavior any easier to handle (I mean, I generally get a panic attack after every confrontation), but that's not why it's not okay. He has some kind of mental health issue with this anger stuff, or rather, I think the anger is one of the outward manifestations of some kind of mental health related problem he has (probably from growing up in the same abusive environment I did, except being physically abused instead of sexually). I do feel sympathy for him because I know what it can be like to have mental health problems. How much of a struggle things can be. How frustrating. And he has some problems with depression too, and I can very much relate to that, having experienced it myself. BUT, none of that excuses taking it out on me or behaving that way in spaces that we have to share. I know my mental illness is frustrating for him too, but it doesn't involve me being abusive toward him! And you don't have to have PTSD to have serious problems living with someone with huge anger problems. It's partially the fact that he handles his anger so innapropriately, but it's also the fact that he has SOOOOOO much anger. It seems like the default reaction to almost anything that isn't exactly how he wants it. It's overblown, exaggerated, and unreasonable. Well, reasonable in response to how life has treated him in the past, not reasonable as a response to having to keep his music at a bearable volume or being asked nicely to clean up after himself in shared areas (the other response is usually disdain).

Anyway, I really can't keep living in this situation. When he gets like that, it's like living with my dad all over again. This is one of my biggest reasons for wanting to get the hell out of here. Yeah, there's also all the great exploration and living with Mike stuff, but that has simply shaped where I want to go and with whom. For years I've been desperate to leave.

Sometimes I want to tell him that he's the reason I'm leaving. I want to tell him how desperate his behavior makes me to get away from him. Maybe it would get him to understand why he can't keep acting like that. Maybe he'd stop refusing to get help for his anger and depression (unlike me, he has access to treatment covered by our insurance, and my mom has repeatedly offered to pay the meager $10 a visit). But I'm not sure, and I also feel like it'll just make it worse. Maybe I'll say something once I'm safely out. I just can't wait till I have a choice about being around this crap. I don't want to be trapped anymore.

Gender and Sexuality Soup. Labels?

2011-01-20T03:08:00.000-08:00

I've been mulling over how to write this post for months. I think part of why I've been having a hard time is that what I want to say covers a lot of different intersecting topics and I haven't been sure of how to organize my thoughts. But I think I'll just take a stab at it and see if something coherent comes out.

This is mostly about sexual orientation, but it's also about gender, identity, and some other stuff. It's mostly about my own personal experience and feelings, but it's also about other people. And it's one of those things that wiggles and shapeshifts and squirms every time I try to look directly at it.

What got me thinking about it in this particular moment is a poll my friend Ashley posted that asked, "At what age did you choose to be straight?" The choices were, "It wasn't a choice," "I'm not straight," and, "Comment." I believe the intent was to get people to think about whether one's orientation is a conscious decision. There were a lot of comments exploring ideas and feelings about sexual orientation that made me feel like chiming in. The more I thought about what to say, the more I realized I had more on my mind than would fit in a little comment box. And here's what was on my mind.

Was being bisexual a choice for me? No. I did have to think about it and discover it over time, but it was never a choice. My interest in boys and girls was present as far back as I can remember, but it took me until I was 14 to consciously recognize it as such. As a kid I was aware of my crushes on boys, but I didn't translate my interest in girls as crushes. It simply didn't occur to me that it was the same thing. The interest and feelings were there; I just had no framework in my head for bisexuality (I knew gay people existed, but knowledge of more than two options came later). I just assumed everyone had feelings like mine, kind of like the main character in the movie But I'm a Cheerleader. I finally became aware when my attractions became more sexual in my early teens and I had become more aware of bisexuality as a concept. I first wondered about it when a friend of mine came out to me as bi at the beginning of my freshman year of high school. The more I thought about it, the more I wondered if maybe I was too. After about a week of just paying attention to where my attention was drawn and the feelings I had about various people, it seemed pretty clear to me that I was bi. I shortly thereafter came out to that one friend and my parents, but mostly stayed closeted for a few more years out of fear of how my friends and classmates would react. I've never mentioned it to any of my extended family, but any of them who read my blog or are my friend on Facebook have figured it out, I'm sure (Not that I'm trying to stay closeted, I just haven't felt like bringing it up for some reason. If asked, I would readily talk about it.).

I did question my orientation several times after that. Sometimes I would wonder if I really, truly liked girls, or if I just thought they were pretty and admired them (or just wanted to be like them). Sometimes I wondered if I truly liked boys, or if I was just looking because I'd grown up in a heteronormative society and was doing it out of habit. Time, experience, and continued attractions to men and women have answered those questions. I'm definitely still bi. I'm not able to turn off my attractions to men or women (they just happen, all over the place), so I don't have the ability to choose one or the other. I can't be just gay or just straight, even though some people like to suggest that bisexuals have that option. Choosing to date only men or women is another matter, but I don't see any point in making myself miserable by limiting myself that way, even if it means sometimes I have straight privilege and sometimes I don't (though mostly I do, since I'm in a long-term relationship with a man, have mostly dated men, and I think I usually pass as straight based on my appearance).

I've already attempted to address some of the common stereotypes and misconceptions people have about bisexuality (albeit somewhat clumsily), so I won't get into that too much here. However, a decent number of people, mostly queer-identified, have a lot of criticisms of bisexual as a label, and I've been thinking a lot about that. I think there are some very valid and important points brought up, and yet I still feel like calling myself bisexual most of the time. I'm still feeling this one out a bit, so discussion is welcome.

First, there are the people who ask why we have to label our sexuality at all. Well, we don't have to. I think it's perfectly valid to not want to label yourself that way. It may feel restrictive, you may not be sure, you may not want people to assume things about you, or you may feel that no label fits. I'm against labeling the sexuality of people who don't want to be labeled. I do feel like labeling myself in that way though, which I think is equally valid. I feel a sense of identity with people who have attractions similar to mine and thereby understand many of the feelings and conflicts I experience as a result of being outside "the norm" in this particular way, and using the label gives me a handy shorthand for identifying myself as part of that group.

One of the most frequently mentioned issues with the label bisexual is one of gender, specifically the idea of binary gender. I spend a lot of time puzzling over the relation of gender issues to the idea of bisexuality, and I'm still fuzzy on it. I do reject the idea that gender has to be binary (man/woman) or that being a man or woman (or other gender) has to mean something specific. Man and woman are fairly popular gender identities, but lines can be blurry, there are cis and trans people, genderqueer people, people who identify as both male and female, or neither, or something in between, or other, or aren't sure. I don't like to call it a spectrum, since that suggests polarities and having to at least partially fit one or the other. I prefer to call it a cloud, or maybe a soup...some sort of mishmash that includes a lot of different options that can be present in any combination. Anyway, a lot of people point out that the word bisexual is based around binary gender, and the word kind of supports that status quo. And I think I agree with that assessment, as far as the literal meaning of the word goes (either "attraction to both men and women" or "attraction to the same and opposite sexes" which is very binary either way you phrase it...and what's the opposite of genderqueer, androgyne, etc?). As a label, it leaves out a lot of options. Options that I like. Because I don't just find men and women attractive. I like people who are androgynous, genderqueer, butch, femme, in between, something else, decline to state, cis or trans, etc. too. So in that respect, it's an imperfect label, though I would argue "gay" and "straight" are imperfect labels as well for the same reasons (Have I mentioned that I don't like the Kinsey scale? I think the spectrum idea is missing the same thing spectrum-based gender is missing.). All labels are imperfect in some way, and yet we still use a lot of them (and I don't mean that to dismiss the issues with those imperfections; I think it's important to look at them and talk about them). I think most of us use these labels because they're convenient shorthand for a majority preference. For myself, I use bisexual because most of the people I'm attracted to identify as either male or female, and most people get what I'm talking about pretty quickly when I simplify it like that, even if it is an incomplete picture. It's convenient, but I think maybe it's also my cis privilege showing. I think I need to look at that some more. On the other hand, I feel an urge to reclaim the label bisexual and challenge the assumption of binary gender at the same time (along with the many biases and stereotypes the label faces). That only works if I talk about it though, which I need to do a whole lot more of (along with plenty of listening, since it's not like I'm The Authority on gender and sexual orientation). There's also maybe something I'm not seeing or considering here. Anywho, so far I still feel drawn to identify myself as bisexual most of the time, whatever the reasons might be.

Another label I like to use for myself is queer. It's a nice umbrella term that includes a great variety of gender identities and sexual orientations. It places me outside the hetero majority without defining me too specifically. Although sometimes I still prefer to call myself bi because I also want the part of me that overlaps with heterosexuality to be counted, and I feel like calling myself queer might make some people focus on my non-straightness to the exclusion of my straightish bits. I think I mostly call myself queer when I want to emphasize my non-straightness. I think I fear people assuming I'm straight because the majority of my (rather few) relationships have been with cis men, even though my attractions don't line up in the same pattern (and most people are ignorant of my sexual/attraction history outside of those relationships). And I still find myself going back to bi as a way to make known the ways I differ from those who identify as gay while still identifying as queer (I find myself with an interesting mix of some straight privilege, probably some other type of privilege, and certain discriminations from both gay and straight groups at times, so I find some comfort in identifying with my "group"as I mentioned before). This one really depends on my mood.

Then there's the label pansexual. Definition-wise, I think it does fit me, for the most part, but I don't really feel like identifying with it for some reason. I think one part of it is that a lot of people don't really know what it means, so I lose the awkward benefits of a well-known shorthand term, as rigid and flawed as they may be. I find myself clinging to that easy rough-understanding for some reason. I also don't feel as much of a sense of a community for some reason.

And then there's the gender thing again. A lot of people, both pansexual and bisexual identified (though more often pansexual, it seems), describe not caring about gender or not seeing gender or not being attracted to a person's gender, just seeing the person. I feel like something is missing there for me in that description. It's not that gender is this huge, important thing to me that I want to make decisions or judgments based on. But I do see gender. And I like gender (or occasional lack thereof). I think gender expressions are often beautiful. Gender is a part of my attraction to a person. Not to mean that I have hard limits about gender in determining who I find attractive. But I find a person's expression of gender attractive in the same ways that I find a person's personality, physical appearance and body, sexuality, intellect, beliefs and values, culture, talents, flaws, thoughts, and dreams attractive (And I like my romantic partners to appreciate my gender expression and identity. I feel great joy in my identity as a woman!). Which may still be what people mean when they call themselves genderblind (or perhaps not), but I feel a need to acknowledge what is often a significant part of the identity of the people I'm attracted to. Maybe not everyone cares that much about identity, but I find myself fascinated by it. While I'm still exploring parts of my identity, I very much like sharing it and having it acknowledged (and learning about and appreciating other people's identities as well). I have a strong desire to be understood.

Thoughts? Discussion? There's a lot here I'm still figuring out and thinking about, so I welcome opinions, ideas, and input, agreeing or disagreeing, to make me think more. Maybe there's something I'm totally missing here! Or maybe there are ways I can better outline why I feel certain ways about things. And maybe something in here made you think. How do you feel about these things? What is your experience like?

And maybe I shouldn't stay up until 3 to finish writing these things...but the inspiration was fresh! *whine*

An Ari Nightmare

2011-01-15T13:58:00.000-08:00

In keeping with my trend of having bad dreams about people who've been abusive to me (which is completely unsurprising, but still really annoying), I had a little nightmare about Ari this morning. Whee.

The dream started with visiting family at my grandma's house and somehow transformed into an awesome camp event with all my friends. I had a really great time, ending the night by watching the stars. There was a colorful ring of light around a star which transformed into a light on my ceiling as I found myself waking up in my bed. I heard the sound of someone else breathing and thought that one of my friends must have stayed the night in my room after the festivities. At first I thought it must be Sasha, somehow not gone back home to another state a week ago. I looked on the floor by my bed and saw Ari asleep in his boxers with half my blankets pulled off my bed. Scared and angry, I pulled my blankets back up on the bed, which woke him up. As he started to get up, I asked, "What the hell are you doing in here?" He said something about it not being a big deal, and I told him to get out. He nonchalantly walked into the bathroom instead of leaving. Closing my bedroom door, I found his fancy digital camera on my floor by the mess of blankets, his cell phone on my desk with the back taken off and the battery out, and other random belongings of his strewn about my room as though he'd made himself quite at home while I slept. I felt rather disturbed and creeped out about him invading my home while I was vulnerable (asleep). And then I woke up, still feeling creeped out, though relieved to find my room empty of intruders.

This is the second bad dream I've had about him since I got up the courage to confront him about saying he wanted to rape me. At least in this dream I was assertive right off the bat. The last one I was in friendly conversation with him and didn't remember until half way through all the bad stuff and the kicking him out of my life, at which point I was really freaked out that I had let him think he could talk to me. Anyway, this seems similar to the pattern of dreams I had about my abusive father after I severed my relationship with him. I think it's my psyche processing all the emotions about the person and situation and purging it. Judging by the dreams I used to have about my dad (now rare, thankfully), I'll keep having dreams about social interaction with Ari, sometimes having the part of my mind that doesn't want him around not kick in until part way in, cuing the part where I reject him. And I'll probably keep doing that dream rejection until I feel less scared, the anger is less raw, and he doesn't enter my thoughts much anymore.

I'll probably always feel a bit on edge when he's around, even after it's mostly processed, but so far I've found that it's much easier to ignore his existence when he's present than it is to ignore my dad. At least Ari understands that he's not welcome with me. And it probably helps that he's afraid of my boyfriend now, apparently. Not that that's really what I was going for, but if it keeps me safe from him, I'm fine with it.

I'm seriously looking forward to forgetting about this guy, never worrying about him again, not having to deal with seeing him or hearing him, and getting on with my life! Now that our mutual friend has had her wedding (which was beautiful and amazing and a fun way to spend my birthday and Ari didn't dampen things for me much at all) and I don't need to worry anymore about making things unpleasant by talking about it where mutual friends can see (not that he tried to afford her wedding much of the same courtesy), I can actually talk about this as much as I need to, get it out, and heal already. Plus, now if he comes near me I can tell him to go away, and if he talks to me or Mike we can tell him to piss off and not have to worry about making a scene. Phew!

On a side note, it's awesome how leftover birthday cake erases that icky bad dream funk. Especially when that cake is my grandma's Chocolate Bombe (Julia Child's Bombe aux Trois Chocolats), the richest, chocolatiest, most mousse-filled cake ever! (I love chocolate) Blogging helps too.

Sock Blog?

2011-01-10T10:28:00.000-08:00

I'm getting the blogging bug again. And I really keep meaning to post more often. I have so much to say! About so many things! And I like sharing things about my life.

Anyway, I like socks. A lot. The story behind it can be found at the end of this post. In keeping with tradition, I asked my family and friends for socks for the holidays and my birthday (Jan. 3rd, conveniently close to the holidays). I got some really awesome socks this year which I really wanted to show off (I mean, what's the point of a wacky sock collection if you don't show it off?). And what better way than sock blogging?

So the plan is to post one awesome pair of socks each week, starting as soon as I have my camera back (a friend borrowed it to take photos at a wedding we both attended last week, she being more photographically talented than me). I'm also hoping this will help spur me on to blog with more regularity. We can add that to my list of resolutions.

Coincidentally New Year's Resolutions

2010-12-27T11:12:00.000-08:00

I'm not normally one to make new year's resolutions. I know it's supposed to be a time of reflection and all that, and reflection often leads to resolutions of some kind. But I don't really work that way. I usually go through several cycles of reflection and resulting resolution-making throughout the year, and I don't tend to feel the need to do it all over again just because the calendar is turning over.

This time it feels a bit different though. It's probably just that one of those cycles of reflection is syncing up with the new year, and it happens to be a particularly major one because of all the growth and crap I've been hit with lately. Anywho, this time I've got some goals and resolutions for the new year.

Be more frugal/save more. I've actually been doing a decent job of this the last 4-5 months. But there have been a few times I spent a bit more than I should have, or dipped into my savings a bit. I'm still on track for my goal of buying my first car (used of course) in April or May, but I'm starting to look ahead of that a bit more. I'm still planning to move to Portland with Mike around the end of the summer, and I'm going to need to be prepared for moving expenses and living expenses until I find a job there. I've cut my fun money budget in half starting with my next paycheck (which is in January).

Be more organized and tidy. I've come a long way from the packrat chaos I lived in as a kid. Still, I notice that I get stressed more easily if my room gets too cluttered, and working is much easier when everything's not covered in stuff.

Spend more time on leather. This masky thing keeps getting better and better (especially after we eliminated our 3rd member quite recently). And we've got our first big vending gig coming up at Faerieworlds in June, so we've got a lot of prep to do and inventory to build up. To work towards turning it into a truly solid business, I've got to give a lot more of my free time over to it.

Manage my time better. In some ways I'm really good at this, and it others I'm really bad at it. I can plan logistics and handle a calendar with ease, but I'm not good with day-to-day plans and I procrastinate. I'm tired of scrambling at the last minute to do my homework, wasting hours on frivolities before realizing I could at least have the laundry going at the same time, or staying up late because I underestimated how long something takes and procrastinated on it. I'm going back to school part time in a few weeks, so it's going to matter.

Say good riddance to things I don't need in my life. I've had to do that over and over and over the last several months. I think I'd be a lot happier, saner, and stronger if I could do it with fewer hesitations and recognize more clearly when the situation required it.

And there you go.

Boundaries and Respect

2010-11-27T02:58:00.000-08:00

Here it is, an explanation of this. It's about an ex who was also a friend and briefly a business partner. It's about why I had to cut off from him. It's about Butt Lips (name has been changed, seemed more appropriate).

None of this is about being spiteful or trying to demonize him in the eyes of others. This is simply for myself to get it out. To explain to people who may be wondering why I don't talk to him anymore and why he's suddenly not part of the business Ashley and I started together. I'm not asking anyone to stop liking him or being his friend. I just want people to understand why I needed to cut that tie for my own well-being. Trust me that it was not an easy decision, nor easy to do.

That being said, the reasons are not pretty ones. They involve things that someone like me would think differently of someone for, and would probably cause someone like me to have less respect for that person. I suppose there is no pretty reason to suddenly slice someone out of your life, especially to be worth it when the consequences may be huge. And on that note, if you are a friend of his, you may not want to read this. Especially if you are a mutual friend of his and mine. What I'm going to talk about may make it harder to be friends with both of us, and I don't want to make anyone feel like they have to choose. It may make it harder to like him, if you're someone like me. I'm also aware that talking about this may make some people like me less (a lot of people seem to look down on the airing of dirty laundry). I don't like the idea of that happening, but this is a big enough deal for me that I have to risk it. Truth will out, as it were. Anyway, on to the heart of the matter, for those who have decided to keep reading.

And for anyone with PTSD or anything similar:

*****TRIGGER WARNING*****

Some of what I'm going to write about may be upsetting or triggering for some people. Or it might not, but be safe if that's you. Anyway, here goes.

It's been a strange and messy process. It started with Ashley cutting off from Butt Lips for personal reasons. I believe it was to be for an indeterminate length of time of at least a month, until mutual readiness to reconnect was reached. It was expected, but I don't think guaranteed, to be temporary. During the first weeks of that separation I tried to be supportive of both sides. I offered a listening ear and conversation to both, but not relaying anything from one to the other (save for business-related matters). Being quite close friends with Ashley, she and I talked at great length about what she was processing and her experiences with Butt Lips, and then my experiences, which were disturbingly similar. The more she talked about things that bothered her, the less I was able to gloss over the things that bothered me. Things like leftover baggage from dating him, his emotional abusiveness (he fits every point on this list; some parts of the blog are NSFW), issues with how he behaved in our professional space, and annoyance with things like thinly-veiled and dismissive sexism, homophobia, entitlement, and unchecked privilege, as well as certain general character traits and behaviors, all of which I'd been doing my best to ignore and put behind me and compartmentalize. I was trying to appreciate the good sides to him, pretend the bad didn't bother me, tell myself he must have changed since I dated him, or tell myself that it wasn't his fault, we were just incompatible for dating, but we could be good friends if we just tried hard enough, and he was just messed up because of his parents when he was growing up. And I was doing a reasonably convincing job. I was doing it for the sake of my friendship with Ashley (she maintained a very close friendship with him after they broke up) and for the sake of harmony with the numerous close mutual friends we shared.

Being able to talk to Ashley about all those things made it a lot harder to keep pretending I was okay with everything. I started to question the nature of my friendship with Ari. And I started listening more to the numerous people who questioned his role in the business Ashley and I created. I started to wonder why I was putting up with mid-work temper tantrums, apparent inability to follow our product quality standard, and the multiple months waiting for him to turn in work (as of the time of cutting off, he had been sitting on one set of photos for 3 months and counting, preventing us from listing the item for sale). What do you do with that? Suck it up and let it keep stressing you out and negatively affecting the business you built? Put an end to it and risk ending one friendship, if not more? For me, that's a very hard question. I've done my best over the years to learn how to make healthy boundaries and maintain them, but it's something I sometimes have a hard time doing, especially when I'm subject to social pressure to make nice and not make waves.

Then came the clincher. With all that opening up and venting of things, Ashley decided to stop keeping quiet about a couple things that weighed heavy on her mind. Things that Ari had said that she had been keeping secret to protect him. This is the part that is most upsetting to me, out of all this mess. The first thing was that when he was still dealing with his breakup with me, he told her that he wanted to make me blank (via hypnosis, one can assume), "fuck my brains out", and force me to take it as punishment for how things went down between us. Just to be clear, that scenario would be rape. He described the way he wanted to rape me, and the fact that it was specifically about punishment. Then there were some things that were mostly fucked up in the context of the relationship he was in with Ashley. And then more recently he told her that he wanted to rape random women on the street because he felt hormonal/horny. That time he actually used the word rape.

While I could conceivably have continued to convince myself that it wasn't that bad, I can't ignore someone describing the manner in which they would like to use my body sexually against my will in order to punish me, or saying they want to sexually violate random women in public.

It didn't really hit me when she first told me. I thought it was fucked up and a stupid thing to say, but it wasn't until a few days later that it began to sink in. I thought about Mike's reaction when Ashley told him. He wanted to beat the shit out of Ari for it (but will be ignoring him instead). I thought about the implications of what Ari said as a non-abstract concept. And when I thought about it as real things that this man actually said, it disturbed me immensely. Even more so when, upon Ashley's confronting him about those specific words, he neither tried to deny them nor apologize for them. He acknowledges having said those things and apparently sees no need to fix it. In a way, that makes it worse. How do you not feel like a horrible person for saying things like that? How do you feel no regret or remorse?

When I finally confronted Ari about it in an email explaining why I was cutting him out, his response was to cease all contact with me and complain to Ashley about how betrayed he felt that she told me (ignoring her requests to stop calling for the umpteenth time). I could go into all kinds of things about what I think about his current behavior, but I don't want to get more ranty than I already have.

The point being, that's why I did it. The big deal part that's still hitting me upside the head weeks later is the rape stuff, but the other behaviors I mentioned were also a factor in this (meaning that I was already drifting this direction before I knew about what he'd said, but that new information probably would have been enough on its own). I've calmed down a lot about it, but it's still affecting me. It's no longer constant, like it was for a couple weeks, but I still get that sick, anxious, scared feeling here and there. Panic attacks have been coming a little easier and more frequently. I'm going to have to be around him for a couple days around New Year's for a mutual friend's wedding, and I'm nervous about how well I'll handle it. The plan is to ignore and avoid him as much as I possibly can, with Mike's help.

It's taken me weeks to write this post. I almost deleted it, but I need to get it out. The important thing is taking care of myself and healing, and talking openly about things like this is one of the best ways I can do that (aside from therapy and yoga, and I don't have access to therapy right now). Bleh, there you have it. Ranty, verbose blog is ranty and verbose.

Self Respect

2010-11-04T23:49:00.000-07:00

Holy crap.

I just made a huge, difficult change in my life. I'm still shaking, I'm still nervous. But I'm free!

I cut someone who was very bad for me out of my life. Someone who was a friend at times. Someone with whom I share many mutual friends. I wouldn't be surprised if I lose some friends because of this.

But it was worth it. I couldn't go on having someone in my life who made me feel nauseous when I thought about them. Someone who at times has been emotionally abusive to me. Someone who I recently found out can lightheartedly speak about wanting to rape women on the street and not feel like a horrible person for saying it. Someone who I recently found out had said that they wanted to use me sexually against my will as punishment for something they were angry with me for.

I'm still shaking. I'm still scared of the consequences. But I know this was what I needed to do.

Maybe I'll write more about it soon.

Updates & Local Fat Hate

2010-10-30T14:52:00.000-07:00

This month has been one long mask-making frenzy. A lot of the time that I would have liked to have spent blogging was necessarily spent filling mask orders instead. It was a bit of a hectic, stressful ordeal at times, with plenty of turmoil thrown in for good measure, but I've learned a lot of useful things I can put to use next Halloween season (like starting building up stock for Halloween in August so we have fewer custom orders to deal with in October, being more organized, keeping more boxes on hand, tweaking my shop policies slightly, and buying ribbon in bulk instead of the little 18 ft. spools from JoAnn's where they seldom manage to stock the same color twice, so good luck finding more of that one ribbon you liked!). Phew, thank gods it's over! I love mask-making and leather craft, but that was exhausting (I spent the last few days finishing 5 rather large, detailed masks, averaging about 5 hours of sleep a night). I'm really enjoying taking a break for a week before starting on the couple of custom orders we've currently got. Next year I promise to plan ahead more for this. Meaning, of course, that next year suddenly even more people will be wanting our masks for Halloween, making us just as crazy busy despite our planning and prep, just to show us that it will never stop being hectic and we might as well just get used to it. I'm okay with that.

Anyway, the real thing I was going to blog about! So there's this little news blog for the city I live in, which I've been reading to stay somewhat up to date on local happenings, such as the unrest about the funding for the new library downtown, where I just happen to be employed. A few days ago there was an article reporting an unfortunate incident at the local Safeway, in which an elderly man got a very serious and profuse nosebleed and several employees refused to get help because they were on their break. I think most people would agree that such behavior is upsetting. Well, apparently the author of the article was so upset about it that she needed to throw in some insults about the physical appearance of said employees, because that's good journalism, right? Bring on the fat hate!

After telling us that several female employees were seated at a table near the one the elderly man and his wife sat down at and that they asked the employees to get help, the article says, in bold italics for emphasis, that, "The staff members replied that they were on their break and continued to shovel mashed potatoes and gravy into their already plus-sized frames."

Wait, what? Yep, that's what it said. How many things can we find wrong with that sentence? Well, first off, what does being plus-sized have to do with anything here? How is it even relevant? The only other physical description of anyone in the whole article was that the man with the nosebleed was elderly, which is relevant because things that are not a big deal to younger people, like a cut or bruise or nosebleed, can be more serious for a senior sometimes. And for all we know, the man, or his wife, or the neighbor who helped him, or the manager who finally did something about it could have also been "plus-sized", but it's not mentioned one way or another (hint: it's still not relevant). Also, why use the word shovel? And why does it matter what exactly they were eating? (Or that they were eating in the first place? They could just as easily have been having a conversation instead for all the difference it would make to the fact that they were refusing to help.) I imagine that if the aforementioned employees had been thin or average-sized, it would just have said that, "The staff members replied that they were on their break and continued to eat their lunches." No mention of body size, no shoveling, no detail that they were eating something that might not be healthy.

Now, I think it's pretty obvious that the phrasing the article used was intended to illustrate just how horrible these people were who wouldn't help an old man in medical distress. It seems to imply that, "Hey, not only are they being quite callous, they're also greedy and gluttonous! And fat! And eating something that might be unhealthy! Because those are all morally reprehensible things, amiright? I mean, you couldn't just say that they were eating lunch, because that wouldn't make them sound bad enough. But if you say they were shoveling down their food, it makes it sound like they were pigging out, which must mean they're greedy, and isn't it horrible that they're such fat fatties? Just like those fatties not to help an old man." Does it sound ridiculous yet? I hope so, because it is. I have serious doubts that the Safeway employees were actually eating in the gluttonous manner described. More likely they were just eating lunch the same way anyone eats. But apparently, if you eat while being fat you must be pigging out by virtue of "OMG, why aren't you on a diet!? Shouldn't you be starving yourself? Don't you want to be thin? Be good, go with the salad instead, no dressing."

I did comment on the article, pointing out exactly what I wrote about here, though in somewhat more concise and less sensational terms, and the editor of the news blog said she would discuss my concerns with the author of the post. Later, when a commenter said that he felt offended as a plus-sized person and another commenter proceeded to verbally attack him for wanting to "ban anything non-PC" and I replied with a counter, reiterating my point in more depth, the editor stepped in saying that they got a copy editor who agreed with me, and thanks for bringing up my concerns, etc. But she also said that when she brought it up, the author "wondered if she had gone overboard as well, but this was also what she saw, and it was an observation that added to her frustration over the situation with the employees not helping." Wait, so the observation of the size of said employees and what they were eating made her more frustrated that they weren't helping? She actually said right there that the author was more frustrated than she would have been if they had not been fat people eating lunch. Did you catch that? She wasn't just hating on them for what they did, but also what they looked like and the fact that they dared to eat food while looking that way.

I feel like this should be obvious, but fat people are no better or worse than people of any other size. They're just people. Their size is not a moral issue. It's just a size. What they eat for lunch is their own damn business. It's just food. Everybody eats food. There is no reason for someone to be more upset with a fat person than one would be with a thin person in the same situation that would equate to them being anything other than an unnecessarily hateful person.

Little Lion Man

2010-10-21T23:28:00.000-07:00

I'm kind of obsessed with this right now.

National Coming Out Day: Photo 4

2010-10-21T17:56:00.000-07:00

And here it is, a bit late, my fourth photo for the week of National Coming Out Day.

About a month before I shaved my head.

And now back to my regular attempts at blogging.

National Coming Out Day: Photo 3

2010-10-14T23:58:00.000-07:00

And here's photo number 3 for the week of National Coming Out Day.

This is just my usual profile picture for this blog. It's about two years old (my hair is much longer now), but I really like that photo.

National Coming Out Day

2010-10-11T23:21:00.000-07:00

Here's the second of my photos for National Coming Out Day and the week following it:

Me with a shaved head! There are at least 2 more of these to come. Possibly more.

Count Me OUT

2010-10-10T16:48:00.000-07:00

National Coming Out Day is tomorrow! I came across this awesome grassroots movement (they're calling it a social media ambush) to celebrate and support National Coming Out day by transforming your profile picture on Facebook, Twitter, etc. into one of these flashy rainbow images with the word OUT or ALLY on it. They suggest we celebrate and raise awareness all week, not just Monday, and it seemed like an awesome thing to do.

I couldn't decide which photo to use, so I ended up making 4. I think I'm going to try to post a different one each day for the whole week. Here's today's:

Me with the fauxhawk I wish I'd done more than twice while my hair was still short enough.

Indulgent

2010-09-28T11:43:00.000-07:00

While reading the blog of one of my all-time favorite artists, Ursula Vernon, I followed a few links that made me very happy that I have a little extra cash coming in from the home mask business thingy. Firstly, Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab, a truly unusual perfume/scent/cologne shop. I've never been much of a perfume person at all, but I've been more interested in the last month or two. I find most perfumes icky, but based on the descriptions from Ursula's blog (she tested a few dozen samples), these sound like something I would like. And of course, as soon as I mention it, I find out that my awesome friend Sasha already uses their stuff, because she always knows about the cool things first. (she's also how I found the site where I got all my info about henna as hair dye, which inspired me to go redhead) She said she never really "got" perfume until she tried them. Sounds promising for me! Along with perfume/cologne descriptions that include things like leather, gin, tobacco, rum, and dirt along with all the usual flowers and musks and whatnot. It also helps that their themes are in a pagan/mythological/historical/gothic spectrum of oddity. They have scent collections based on Alice in Wonderland, Shakespeare, Lovecraft, Neil Gaiman, the devil, and other stuff like that. Right up my alley! So I ordered 6 samples to start (they call them imp's ears, or imps for short), which I'm really excited about:

Hunger- Evokes sheer, unadulterated carnal lust. An undeniably warm and sensual scent. Black narcissus, orange blossoms, and vanilla.

Siren- Bewitching, tantalizing and dangerously seductive. A thrilling, exotic blend -- deceptively sweet, but spiked with malice. White ginger, jasmine, and a touch of vanilla and apricot.

Rangoon Riptide- Pineapple, mandarin orange, raspberry, passion fruit, and rum.

Titania- A nocturnal bounty of fae dew-kissed petals and pale fruits: white grape, white peach, iced pear, musk rose, sweet pea, moonflower and snapdragon.

Mouse's Long and Sad Tale- Vanilla, two ambers, sweet pea and white sandalwood.

Bon Vivant- An effervescent blend of crystalline champagne notes and sweet strawberry.

Sasha also gave me some recommendations that I'm going to have to try in the next batch of imps. The ones I ordered this time I chose with both Mike's and my tastes in mind, in hopes of finding something we both enjoy because I don't want to smell like something he hates, and we don't like all the same smells. I love spices, chocolate, pumpkin, and leather. He's rather less excited about those and prefers vanilla or fruit. But I think I'll also have to try a few that are just for me to wear when I'm on my own, like possible future fairs and such.

Next awesome shop: Villainess. Victorian/steampunkish bath and body. The soaps sound awesome. The body lotions (called Whipped) sounds even more awesome. Scents that sound delicious: Ginger Snapped, Dulces en Fuego (dark chocolate!), Crushed (black raspberry, dark chocolate, sandalwood), Krakatoa (an explosion of fruit with a hint of musk and sandalwood), and Shanghaied (fruity, flowery, spicy, and woodsy all at once). Ursula Vernon swears by the Whipped, and it sounds like a less expensive version of the type of body lotion I've been using (my favorite scent has been discontinued, so I'm ready to try something new). Must try!

Third awesome thing: socks! For those of you who don't know, I'm a sock junkie. I love a nice pair of socks! Pretty, whimsical, wacky, classic; I love any sock that's not plain white*. The more interesting, the better. I have socks with whales, flamingos, polka dots, rainbow stripes, monkeys, koi, flames, argyle, and frogs, to name a few. My favorite pair are lime green with chili peppers. When my family asks what I want for my birthday or the Christmas/Winter Solstice holiday, the first thing on my list is always socks. And Sock Dreams has about a bajillion different kinds of socks (or they would if that were a real number). And free shipping on everything all the time! (in the US) And a store in Portland, which adds to the things I have to look forward to when I move. Not to mention their variety of thigh-high stockings and tights (my other love). I think this will be living at the top of my holiday/birthday wish list for the rest of forever.

It seems that daydreaming about indulgent materialism makes good motivation for me to work more. I wonder why?

*The story behind the sock obsession: I was a weird kid. I loved mismatching my socks. I thought it was the coolest thing ever. I had this set of socks in each color of the rainbow, and every day I would pick a wacky combination, like purple and yellow, to wear to school. My dad hated it. He thought it was horribly tacky, so one day he told me he wouldn't buy me anything but white socks until I promised not to mismatch them anymore. I ended up wearing white socks all through middle school and most of the way through high school. When we moved out of my dad's apartment, suddenly he didn't have that power any more. That's when I started asking for fun socks for Solstice/Christmas and my birthday. It started with squirrel socks, and thus my mini-obsession was born.

Industrious

2010-09-28T10:55:00.000-07:00

Life is busy, but exciting. I feel more focused now because of my recent big change in plans. I have a lot more free time now! Free time that needs to be spent crafting non-stop.

This mask business is getting big faster than I expected. Last night we sold another expensive mask. And we've got a custom mask commission in the works. And we're finishing up a custom paint job for a person who bought our two most expensive designs at once (that blew my mind!). Plus working on another order and trying to crank out some inventory for Halloween and maybe vending at a fair or two. Oh, my gods, this is insane! I love it! I didn't expect the level of success we're hurtling toward, at least not this soon. Exciting!

Weird Semester of Wacky Changes!

2010-09-16T01:39:00.000-07:00

Well, it looks like over the last few weeks the direction I'm going with my life at the moment has completely changed. Consider this the answer to my previous crisis post.

A few months ago I was thinking maybe I'd end up in Portland, Oregon in a few years. Now it's turned into a definite desire to move to Portland sooner, rather than later. A year or less, probably. There are many reasons.

This is partly a because-of-Mike thing, and partly a because-I-really-really-want-to thing. Certainly a lot of it was his influence (with a bit of help from a few other people), but I'm beginning to realize that there are a lot of things I really want there, that I would continue to want if he weren't in the picture.

Firstly, school! I'm currently wading my way through a mess of community college stuff, trying to get to the point where I can transfer to a 4 year school for my bachelor's degree. I've been at it for a while, and it's slow going because of my struggle with mental illness (a funky mish-mash of anxiety, depression, and PTSD). This semester I started working on a certificate in library technology, thinking I would be finished with that well before wanting to move (it's a 1.5-2 year program). After that I would start on GE classes (another 2 years or so), and then I could transfer and finish my bachelor's (2-3 more years). So school would take a good while, but in theory I would maybe be able to get a better job with the certificate to help me support myself through the 4-5 years of school to follow. BUT! That whole plan was partially based on Mike going to one of the local schools when he transfers (much sooner than me), and partially on the idea that I might not be moving to Portland anywhere near that soon, if at all, and would need that certificate to get a higher up library job, and would probably also be going to a local school, and have to settle for majoring in French when I'd really rather major in Arabic, which is not available around here.

The more I think about it, the more I know I'd be much happier majoring in Arabic. Heck, I could still do French too, maybe as a minor, so I wouldn't have to miss out on my second-favorite language by going for my all-time-favorite (and why would you settle for the second-favorite when you don't have to?). PSU (that's Portland State University, not Penn State, which comes up every time I try to google PSU) offers a bachelor's in Arabic, which I absolutely cannot get by any means if I stay here. (Yes, I looked at UC Berkeley. No, they don't have it. A handful of classes does not a degree make. Yes, there is an Arabic school in San Francisco. They're not accredited. None of the other schools here have more than 3 classes. Can you tell I've had that conversation dozens of times?) As a side note, Portland has McMenamin's. The bay area doesn't. (though I won't be able to go to very many Giants games anymore, which is too bad because I'm just now starting to get into baseball)

Today I looked at the qualifications for the Portland area equivalent of the job I was trying to get with that certificate. They don't care about a certificate. All they want is an AA degree and 2 years experience as a library clerk or page (shelver). I have 6 years experience. I can do an AA in 2 years, being more or less synonymous with my transfer requirements, and skip the certificate altogether. I just took about 2 years off my education time line. Cue slight giddiness and the dropping of all my now unnecessary library classes. Goodbye major source of anxiety and panic attacks! The rest of the semester I'm only taking yoga (thank gods my health insurance is no longer dependent on my being a full-time student!). And, of course, I can do all that at Portland Community College just as easily as at Diablo Valley College (but with better public transit).

So there's that. And, as mentioned above, a slightly easier path to the job I've had my eye on. Which pays more in Multnomah County than the county I currently work for/live in (not surprising when Oregon's minimum wage is $8.75 to California's $8). Did I mention that rent is a bajillion times cheaper there too? Of course, I'd have to get some other job in the mean time to support myself, but I'd be doing alright even if I only make as much as I do right now (which is not a lot).

Speaking of jobs, there's also the matter of my little home business. For those of you who don't already know, I make carnival/masquerade style masks out of leather with two friends of mine. We currently sell on Etsy, with plans for next summer's Faerieworlds in Eugene, Oregon. Portland is a very big deal for this business venture because: one of these friends has already moved to Portland (and is now working with us long distance), the other friend (one of my closest friends of all) will be moving to Portland in the next 6 months to a year for art school, Portland's Saturday Market is a Big Deal Thing that could really kick things up a notch, and I would be in closer proximity to things like Faerieworlds, the Oregon Country Fair (very big deal!), Portland Pirate Festival, and various other vending opportunities. I see some very good opportunities for something that I would like to be a bigger part of my life. I would do the mask/leather craft thing instead of a regular job if I started making enough money at it (and if other people near my skill level can do it, why not me?).

In addition to the two friends I work with, two of my oldest, best friends currently live in Portland. I would absolutely LOVE to be able to see them more often. I also have three friends in Eugene and one in Ashland that I would like to see more. Of course I'll miss all my friends and family here, but that's what the internet, phones, and visiting home are for! Plus, who knows if I'll stay up there? I could move back after a few years.

The thing Mike does have a big influence on is the time line. If he gets accepted at PSU, he's going up there whether I follow him or not, which is as it should be. I have my own reasons to want to move up there, but he's important enough that I want to move up there at the same time (or within 1-2 months at the latest). I don't want to do the long distance thing. I actually do want to move that soon, but I think I would dither and play it safe and end up not moving for years without that push. I think it'll be good for me to take that leap and actually do it instead of spending forever trying to plan for every contingency. If it works, yay! If not, I can probably move back home.

Aside from all that, I'm almost 23. I've been having the itch to move out and get my own space for years. I do like living at home (my mom is really easy to get along with, respects my privacy and my decisions, and has been kind enough to support me financially), but it's a normal part of growing up to want to go out on your own. And lately the itch has been not only to move out, but to make big changes in my life and go in a different direction from where I've been going. I need to follow my gut more. My gut is telling me to try this. It'll be an adventure!

Freaked Out

2010-09-04T15:49:00.000-07:00

I had a low level panic going almost all day Thursday. I'm still a little on edge, so I don't know how coherent this will be, but I need to get it out.

My brother has a friend (or had a friend, this changed that) who doesn't understand appropriate behavior. When he starts talking to you, he just latches on and goes, yap yap yap, for ages. He's not really talking TO you, he's talking AT you. You can barely get a word in. Forget conversation. And he chooses to talk about inappropriate things, like how much he drinks, how young he started drinking, how he can take a shovel to the head and not be fazed, how great he is at beating people up, how he's willing to kill people if they mess with him, and how it's cool with him if my boyfriend and I have sex on his bed, as long as we tell him. All without any prompting, any sign from me that I'm okay with talking about these kinds of things, or any kind of established bond that would make it even remotely okay to bring my sex life into the conversation in that way. He's that self-absorbed person you dread being around because you know it'll take about an hour to get him to stop talking to you without being an asshole to him. His name is Parker.

Thursday after I got to school, I got stuck with him. I still was coming down from a panic attack I had had that afternoon, so I was hanging out in the rec room instead of going to my yoga class, waiting for Mike to get out of class. I was fiddling away with my laptop and chatting a little with a couple of my friends when the dreaded Parker came in. Despite at least one mutual friend in the room, he fixated on me. He grabbed a chair, pulled it really close to me, sat down, and started talking at me. While he was talking, the other people I knew gradually all left the room for various things. He told me about how crazy and wired he was feeling. Told me all the random things he hated about my brother (this while he claimed to be a friend to my brother's face), including how my brother isn't grateful enough for the "$300 worth of food and movie tickets" that he volunteered to pay for because he didn't offer to pay back the gift, and how my brother cooking for him and feeding him our food doesn't count as reciprocation (he didn't mention my brother letting him stay with us for a few days, so I guess that means nothing too). He told me how his step-mom supposedly sent someone to kill him, and how he held his knife to the guy's throat while questioning him. How he was willing to go kill his step-mom if she did it again. He told me how depressed and messed up in the head he was, how he wanted to get killed in a fight so he wouldn't have to do it himself. He told me how he's quite alright with having Nazis and white supremacists as friends. Told me how his ex-girlfriend, who he seems to have dumped under possessive, manipulative circumstances, who is now dating a friend of mine and seems like a very nice person, is "manipulative" and apparently out to make his life hell. How if my brother were to ever hit him in the head with the wallet chain he likes to twirl, he would take it away and beat my brother to death with it. How he's "more of a real Pagan" than my brother or any of his friends because he "lives more like the Vikings did" and "spends more time in the woods" (as though Heathenism/Asatru is the only type of Paganism, as though those things require living like the ancient Vikings, as though there is one particular right way to be Pagan, as though spending time in the woods is the real measure of what makes a Pagan).

Important red flags: talking about killing people, including MY BROTHER, being in a slightly whacked out state of mind, and not having any fear of violence or death as a deterrent from killing people, LIKE MY BROTHER.

At one point he said, "People seem to think I look intimidating when I have my knife out. I'm not so sure." He pulled his knife out of his pocket, opened it, and, sitting about a foot from me, pointed it towards me and said with a wild look on his face, "What do you think? Do I look intimidating?"

Now, I don't think the intent with the knife was necessarily to intimidate me, but that doesn't matter (plus it's a little late to wonder if I should be intimidated when the lead-up was talking about KILLING MY BROTHER). What matters is that there was a knife in my personal space (meaning less than a foot from me, pointed at me) where there should never be a knife unless I give permission. My abusive dad used to do shit like that, so stop and think about that if you think I'm overreacting. The whole time I was on edge, trying to think of a way to leave that wouldn't encourage him to follow me and keep talking. I was kind of in survival mode: be nice, don't provoke him, find a safe way out. I ended up lying and saying I had a weight training class to go to because I knew I could at least lose him at the women's locker room if he decided to walk with me to "class", as some people do. I thought a friend of mine would be in there, since the yoga class I was skipping had just gotten out. Turns out she didn't go that day. So I hid in the locker room for a little while and called a friend of mine who lives nearby to come pick me up so I could get off campus hopefully without running into him again. I was about half-way into my second panic attack of the day. While waiting to hear back from my friend, I walked the long way around to the campus bookstore to get some food and try to think where I could hide for an hour until Mike got out of class. On my way out I ran into one of my brother's friends whom I was able to talk to for a little bit about how freaked out I was. He wanted to give Parker the benefit of the doubt, since he tries to see the good in everyone, but he was nice enough to walk with me to where my friend was going to pick me up and keep me company while I waited (which was expecially good because we ran into another friend of his who, while a nice-ish guy, has some problems with boundaries and appropriateness and tends to make me very uncomfortable). My friend picked me up and hung out with me until Mike got out of class, then drove me back to Mike, who took me home.

When I told Mike what had happened, of course he didn't like it one bit (he already disliked Parker as much as I did, but I think he would have been just as mad even without that). He thought we should report it to campus police (weapons are prohibited on campus), and maybe to the actual police as well. He offered to help me with it, since I knew I couldn't call without going into a full on panic attack. We didn't get around to that though. Mike posted something angry about the whole thing on Facebook. Not an actual summation, just an expression of anger with mention of the knife bit and a lot of protectiveness for me. So, of course, people got interested, started asking questions, and the more we talked about it, the more riled up people got. A couple of my brother's friends (who I also consider my friends, if not as close to me as they are to him) were really supportive and had my back immediately. Then there were one or two fence-sitters, and then at least one person who jumped to conclusions and got nasty (the one who comes to mind later apologized). And there was Parker. As soon as he found out about what I said about the encounter and what Mike was saying about it, and what other people were saying about it, he sent Mike a very angry, nasty message.

First off, he called Mike all kinds of names (asshole, idiot, retard, that kind of thing). Then he said he couldn't have possibly cornered me (the phrasing I used) because that would entail his physically trying to prevent me from leaving (I was, in fact, referring to being verbally cornered by the incessant talk and the threatening nature of his behavior. Dude doesn't understand expressions.). He asked why I didn't just tell him that he was bothering me. Asked why I didn't just tell him to his face that I felt unsafe around him. Said I could take care of myself. The whole thing was very hostile, and, of course, made me feel that much more panicky. As a side note, if you feel extremely unsafe and threatened by someone you know you have very little chance of defending yourself against, would you take the risk of telling that person that they bother you? Would you tell that person that you don't feel safe around them? NO. You play nice and don't provoke them until you can get somewhere safe. You don't give them that opening.

Mike told him off, and Parker said something that implied that he would leave us alone from now on. Though he kept demanding that Mike explain to him exactly what he did wrong. Then I sort of got to explain most of what happened to my brother and a couple of his friends, though I don't think I got to tell the whole thing. Most of the guys thought I shouldn't report it, now that it appeared to have died down. I think there was also a desire to not punish him too much by getting him in trouble. Mike's auntie REALLY wanted me to report it, and said it's not smart to not report something like this.

So now I've got pressure from both sides, either to report it or not report it. Not too many people seem interested in what I want or need here. One or two people have been talking about it without ever having heard what I had to say about the incident. I'm not sure what I want to do, but I know that I fear receiving some serious criticism and vitriol from a decent number of people if I were to report things. Maybe even harassment. And I do worry that Parker would stop leaving me alone if I were to report it.

And people are still talking about it. Some people are questioning whether he did what he was accused of without ever having heard specifically what he is being accused of (well, what *I'm* accusing him of, which I think is not quite the same as everything that's been floating around by word of mouth). Some people are talking about "not taking sides", which sounds eerily like apologia. Seriously, what side is there besides "he shouldn't have done that, it was a bad thing to do and not okay." (apparently the side of "it's not that big a deal," "she's overreacting," and "she's a crazy bitch") Hell, you can even be his friend and like him as a person and still recognize that there is nothing okay about what he did (if you know what happened, not what he says I'm accusing him of, which have become two different things).

So yeah. Giant shit-storm, people still hashing it out, me caught in the middle (people so easily lose sight of the fact that I'M THE ONE IT HAPPENED TO, so maybe they should see what *I* have to say about it). And some of the things people have been saying have got me still feeling freaked out and upset about the whole thing. I've been having mini-panic attacks almost constantly since it happened. I honestly expected that me being okay would have been more of a priority. I guess not.

I reserve the right to draconian moderation of comments because I'm REALLY tired of being re-victimized by all this "not a big deal, leave it alone" crap.

If you STILL don't get why this is a big deal, go read the rest of my blog. Maybe then you'll get it.

Why Eve?

2010-08-25T11:17:00.000-07:00

Most of you know me as Eve. But some of you probably know me as Emily, or used to. At some point, when I have the hundreds of dollars it takes, I'm changing my name. For those who don't know, Emily is the name I grew up with, currently my legal name. Eve is the name I'm legally changing to as soon as I can. I've been using it for a little over 4 years (except at work because they knew me as Emily for 2 years before I started switching over, and I don't want to confuse the people who handle my paychecks).

A lot of people ask me why I'm changing my name, or why I picked that name. I always have a hard time answering that question, partially because the answer is kind of long, partially because I just kind of...ended up there. I never sat down and thought, "I want to change my name! What should it be?" Anyway, I figured I would attempt to answer that question.

First of all, I don't have any problem at all with the name Emily. It's a very pretty name, and I like it a lot (enough that I'm keeping a variation of it as part of my middle name). It was me for the first 18 years of my life, and it's who I was for a very large part of the journey that brought me where I am today. But it's not who I am now.

I didn't choose the name Eve. It found me. It started in 8th grade. My best friend/step-sister (I'm not sure which label to use, see here) and I were making an alphabet together (a hobby of both of ours), and I had a sequence of 4 letters I liked the look of. When we assigned meanings to each of the letters, it ended up spelling "Eave". I liked the look of it so much, I started writing it on everything, using it as a symbol of myself, even though it didn't spell my name.

Fast forward to the summer after my senior year of high school (more like senior semester, since I dropped out half-way through). I was about 18 and a half, going on my first trip out of the country, my first trip out of the state of California, and my first plane ride. I was on a 3 week trip around England, Scotland, and Wales with 15 of my friends. One day a friend and I were drawing on my pants with sharpie. I started writing some of my favorite quotes and phrases down my leg in a couple of the alphabets I'd created because I thought it looked pretty. Among those was "Eave", that same string of letters.

My friend was curious about what I wrote. When I told him about "Eave", he liked it and started calling me Eve. At first it was just one nickname out of a few (people were also calling me "Kitty" and "Jack" at the time). But somehow it stuck, and before long, the whole group was calling me Eve. A year later, I was using the name almost exclusively, at least among friends. That summer (the same summer I cut off from my dad, a very difficult summer), I had a rather moving experience during a ritual. I don't know if I feel like describing the ritual in much detail here at the moment, but at one point I was told to lay Emily to rest so that Eve could come into her own. That resonated very strongly with me and what I was going through at the time. I already knew by then that I wanted to legally change my name to Eve, and that experience just reinforced it.

During that time I thought a lot about the name and what it means to me. Eve means life, from the Hebrew name Chava. So, firstly, the name is an affirmation of life for me, a big step in establishing strength I didn't have once. Also important to me is the myth of Eve as the first woman. I'm not Christian by a long shot, and I don't believe in the Adam and Eve story, but I do like identifying myself with this archetype of First Woman, mother of all women, embodiment of womanhood. Except, I'm looking at it through my Pagan lens of the Divine Feminine, which I like a whole lot more than all that original sin crap. For me, it's a way of reclaiming my womanhood as my own, which has been an important part of my healing process as a survivor of childhood sexual abuse. Tied up somewhere in there is a story that was part of the book Ishmael: An Adventure of the Mind and Spirit by Daniel Quinn, which I recommend. The story was a rethinking of the Adam and Eve story, in which, in a pre-Christian society, Eve is not a temptress or the original sinner, or even a person. Eve is simply life. And then the story goes on to say that a more patriarchal, controlling society comes along and fears that unbridled life force, so they re-frame the story in a way that demonizes Eve. Anyway, I rather liked the first half of the story in which Eve is simply sacred Life, which helped me come to my personal framing of the Life/First Woman archetype.

Later on, I realized that forms of the name Eve are rather popular amongst ancestors and relatives on my mom's side of the family. My grandpa's older sister was named Eva, as was her granddaughter before she changed it to something else. My grandma's mother and maternal grandmother were both named Evelyn. My mother's middle name is a combination of the two: Evalyn. At the same time, I realized that my legal name, as it currently stands, represents my dad's side of the family exclusively. I already don't want my dad's last name because it's his. But in addition to that, I have never met a single one of my dad's relatives. For that reason, I would much rather have my name be representative of my maternal family, as the familial connection is much stronger. In that light, it seems quite fitting that I would stumble upon this particular name.

I'm changing more than just my first name. It took me a while to find a last name that felt right (my mother's maiden name didn't quite feel like a good fit). Eventually, I settled on Larkspur. That name is slightly less important to me than Eve, but it too has some symbolism behind it. Firstly, I like the larkspur flower, also known as delphinium (which I also like the name of). The larkspur historically was thought to bestow clarity of vision (both eyesight and intuition) in European witchcraft of the medieval age. In some modern Pagan traditions, it also is thought to cleanse away and protect against negative energy. In Shakespearean times, the flower was also referred to as knight's spur, which is important symbolism for me for reasons which would take far too long to explain right now (most who know me in person will get it right away).

I mentioned my middle name earlier. As tribute to my original name, Emily, and also as tribute to the Welsh part of my heritage, of which I'm very proud, I'm taking the name Emlyn as part of my middle name. The other half is Celeste, the only part of my legal name that I'm keeping, since it's not a family name and I think it's pretty.

So there you have it. I started out Emily Celeste Carroll Hiersch. I am becoming, have become, Eve Emlyn Celeste Larkspur.

Day 1 — Your Best Friend

2010-08-24T11:53:00.000-07:00

I don't have just one best friend. I don't know that I even like the idea of a "best" friend. Each friendship is different, and each one is meaningful to me in a different way. I don't think it would be right for me to pick just one person, so I'm going to write a little bit each to a few of my closest friends. Not everyone will be on here, but that doesn't mean I love you any less!

Alina, you were the first best friend I ever had, and yours is the oldest friendship I have. We more or less grew up together. To this day I often refer to you as my sister or my step-sister, partially because that's easier to say than "my dad's girlfriend's daughter", partially because that's nearly what our parents' relationship makes us (minus the marriage part, but it's so close as makes little difference), but mainly because that's what our friendship always felt like to me. Pretty much everything I want to say sounds pretty corny to me, but I think this is just one of those Big Deal friendships that makes me want to say corny things. I treasure all the hours we spent together dreaming up other worlds and letting our imaginations run wild. You were one of the few people I didn't feel self-conscious showing that side of me. A lot of the time I felt like you understood me better than anyone else. I've always admired your creativity, honesty, sensitivity, and intelligence (you're one of the smartest people I know). I miss you terribly. I hate that circumstance (a.k.a. my dad) has kept us apart so much over the last 3 years. I don't know if I said this already, but it was wonderful seeing you during my visit to Portland last April. That was one of the best parts of that trip (and what an adventure!). I'm happy that you got to meet Mike. You're one of the Important People in my life, so it was imperative that he meet you and like you (which he did, he thought you were awesome). I'm starting to get rambly. Anyway, I miss you. A lot. I really should start writing you letters again. I miss your letters. I love you, and I'll always be your Nemz.

Ash, you've been one of my closest friends for a while. We've been through a lot together! (massive understatement) Sometimes I'm amazed how well our friendship has survived all the craziness it's been through, but then I remember how our minds work together. We can be volatile at times, but we're a powerful combination when we're on the same page. As rocky as our past was at times, I think we both grew a lot from it, in a good way. I really like where we're at right now. I feel like I can talk to you about almost anything. I like that you get what the big deal is when I'm talking about things like the nuances of feminism or racism or other social issues. And that you care as much as I do. I really appreciate that you get where I'm coming from with my philosophy on food and how it relates to environmentalism, health, and ethics. I'm surprised how many people I'm hesitant to talk to about that. Sometimes it's freaky how much alike we are. I think that's why we get each other so well (and also why we at times have pushed each others buttons a little too well). I really admire your artistic talent. You're really damn good and you make it look so easy. I think it's great that you're not drawing for other people for a while. As great as your horses are, your best art has always been the stuff you do for yourself because you feel it. There's something special there that's raw and alive, and I love it. Case in point, the work you do on our masks. (Masks!) You make a great business partner.

Jessica, I wish I got to see you more often. We've only been friends for a couple years, but it feels like I've known you much longer than that. We just clicked right off the bat. We've seen each other through some crazy times in that short period! You're kind of like the big sister I never had. I love that we can talk and talk for hours about all kinds of things. You're really fun to be around. I really should call you more often (but I'm glad that you're so understanding when I fail at that). Even though I don't get to see you as much now, I'm really happy for you in the new life you've started with Alex. It's inspiring to see both of you working so hard to build a life together. I was honored to be the witness at your wedding. I wish you all the best!

Anthony, it's funny how we ended up being such good friends. When we first met, we didn't get along very well at all. I'm not sure what changed, but somehow we ended up close friends, and have been for a number of years now. You've been there for me through some really tough times. You're very generous and always ready to help out a friend. I wish life were kinder to you. You've had to deal with a lot of crap you don't deserve. Still, somehow you always rise above it. I admire that. I'm glad to have you as a friend.

Mary, we've been friends for a long time. We're very similar in some ways (people always get us mixed up!), but in other ways we're very different people. With you being away at college for the last few years, I feel like there are a lot of conversations we missed out on. We know each other pretty well, but I think there are some things about each other from those years that we haven't really gotten to know yet. But that's what the time now is for. We definitely need to start that moon circle you've been talking about. We're both in need of that women's space.

Camille, I wish I got to see you more often! Fun things always happen when you're around. We're very different people, but I feel like you understand me pretty well. I love hearing about all your adventures. I wish I could do more of that (I'm sure I will eventually). I like the connection we have. Hopefully I'll get to see you a little more this year, now that you're living closer to California!

Liz, I miss you. I know you love where you live, but I secretly hope you'll move out west one day (I guess it's not really a secret). I can talk to you for hours. You're one of the few people I feel comfortable calling on the phone just to say hi and chat (I have ridiculous phone anxiety, so that means you're special). I always mean to call more than I do. I really enjoyed flying out to visit you the week of your wedding. Won't be long before I'm out there again! I hope you and Darell can come visit me here sometime (And Darell seriously needs to try Indian food! I'm making that happen.).

There are many more people I haven't listed here. This post would take a week to write if I included everyone, especially all you people I met through HDK (you guys are family to me). Know that I love you, even if I didn't write to you here. (if you want me to write you something, just ask, I'd be happy to)

Squeeze

2010-08-13T00:07:00.000-07:00

I've got a couple drafts waiting to be finished, but I want to write about this instead right now.

It's been intense lately: working close to double my normal number of hours for 3 weeks straight, getting ready to start school again tomorrow, and trying to adjust to a quickly changing social life. I'm feeling some kind of pressure building, and there's chaos running wild through my life. Sometimes it's too much and I feel shaky.

I was going through some old papers, trying to clean up my space a little, and I found something someone had written for me New Year's Day 2006, two days before my 18th birthday, just over a week before I dropped out of high school, the beginning of the year that started me hurtling towards becoming the person I am today.

It was about crisis.

     "Challenges, misfortunes, deadlines, sudden change, clash of destinies rise up and push you into a tight squeeze.

     "SQUEEZE - To pass through crisis you must surrender everything except the most dear things in your heart.

      "SQUEEZE - Keep your eyes and heart firmly on what is most dear to you and make your decision with that in mind. Each time crisis arises, you have the greatest opportunity to make change - never run from it - walk to meet it - face it - surrender to it - and emerge closer to your dreams than ever."

I think that fits pretty well how I've been feeling lately.

I need to focus more on what's really important in my life during this little shakeup. I've been letting too much of this get me rattled when I really just need to be buckling down and getting my self together. It's like a self-induced earthquake; I shake through everything in my life and see what's still standing when I'm done.

Things that are important:

Mike (he keeps getting more awesome, somehow)
getting through school
the library I work at (the public part of it, which is why I'm there, not the craziness that goes on backstage while we figure out how the hell to run our new, giant building, which I've been wasting a lot of time worrying about)
yoga, and lots of it
the mask-making business I started with my friends
eating well
legally changing my name already! (post on that at some point)
connecting better with friends (something I don't feel I'm doing very well at the moment)
saving up for the car I've needed for the last two years
organizing and purging my living space so the chaos doesn't make me feel so crazy
working on keeping my PTSD manageable now that I'm not in therapy
self-expression (more blogging, start vlogging, see above)
getting more sleep
getting better about hennaing my hair on a regular basis

A reasonably short list. Maybe it'll help me focus a bit more.

30 Days of Letters

2010-08-07T23:11:00.000-07:00

I've been trying to write a new post for about a week, and I'm having a hard time getting myself inspired to write. So, I'm going to try a couple things to get me started. I'm hoping that once I get in the habit of posting more, things will flow a little more easily.

As part of this attempt at gaining momentum, I've decided to try this little exercise I found over on Britni's blog. Each day I write a letter to someone different, according to the list, and post it here. I'm not necessarily going to do one every single day, but I do plan to work my way through the whole list. This exercise seemed fitting since I'm trying to start sending my friends snail mail letters again (a long-time hobby, I get really into letter-writing). Feel free to give this a go if it looks fun. Here's the list:

Day 1 — Your Best Friend

Day 2 — Your Crush/ Boyfriend

Day 3 — Your parents

Day 4 — Your sibling (or closest relative)

Day 5 — Your dreams

Day 6 — A stranger

Day 7 — Your Ex-boyfriend/girlfriend/love/crush

Day 8 — Your favorite internet friend

Day 9 — Someone you wish you could meet

Day 10 — Someone you don’t talk to as much as you’d like to

Day 11 — A Deceased person you wish you could talk to

Day 12 — The person you hate most/caused you a lot of pain

Day 13 — Someone you wish could forgive you

Day 14 — Someone you’ve drifted away from

Day 15 — The person you miss the most

Day 16 — Someone that’s not in your state/country

Day 17 — Someone from your childhood

Day 18 — The person that you wish you could be

Day 19 — Someone that pesters your mind—good or bad

Day 20 — The one that broke your heart the hardest

Day 21 — Someone you judged by their first impression

Day 22 — Someone you want to give a second chance to

Day 23 — The last person you kissed

Day 24 — The person that gave you your favorite memory

Day 25 — The person you know that is going through the worst of times

Day 26 — The last person you made a pinky promise to

Day 27 — The friendliest person you knew for only one day

Day 28 — Someone that changed your life

Day 29 — The person that you want tell everything to, but too afraid to

Day 30 — Your reflection in the mirror

Parental Consent Laws and the Disturbing Consequences Thereof

2010-06-15T15:44:00.000-07:00

Parental consent laws: a really terrible idea. I'm referring to laws that require parental permission before a minor can get an abortion. Parental notification laws are almost equally atrocious. Perhaps these laws are based on good intentions from parents who want to be involved in momentous decisions like that. Perhaps not. Either way, the result is disastrous for those girls and young women who are in the most need of help. This article that I read today is a perfect example of what I'm talking about:

"A 13-year-old Pennsylvania girl has been hospitalized after attempting to give herself an abortion with a pencil. The girl had become pregnant from a 30-year-old man — Michael James Lisk — she refers to as her boyfriend, but whom I think we can all agree to call child rapist. This sexual abuse had been going on for about a year."

Pennsylvania is one of 20 states that require at least one parent to consent to a minor's decision to terminate her pregnancy. Regardless of whether or not the girl's parents would have consented to her having an abortion (and I hope they would have), she should have been allowed to make that decision herself, even if she was too scared to tell her parents.

When I was 13, I was almost that girl. It never quite got to that point, but if it had, I most likely would have considered the idea of talking to my parents about it completely out of the question, possibly to the detriment of my health or life. California, thankfully, doesn't have parental consent or notification laws, but if it did, and if my abuse had continued a bit longer, there is a possibility I could have found myself pregnant in my early teens, and there's a possibility I would have attempted something horribly dangerous out of desperation. (there is absolutely no question, I would not have been willing to carry such a pregnancy to term)

My dad was the abuser, and I have no idea what he would have done with me in that situation, but I doubt that giving him that kind of power over me would have been in any way beneficial. My mom, I'm sure, would have been very supportive and given permission, but at the time my greatest fear was her finding out about the abuse. At the time, I thought what happened to me was my fault, that it made me disgusting, that I would be hated and ostracized by anyone who found out, and that I would lose my whole family if I didn't successfully keep it a secret. Because of all that, I would probably have tried desperately to avoid the need for parental consent or notification. I know there are usually exceptions for situations where the child would be in danger, but that generally requires going through the courts, which I would also have avoided because of my intense fear of anyone knowing about the abuse. And even if I did want to go that route, I may not have had access to it. My abuser controlled almost every aspect of my life. I didn't have the ability or freedom to leave my home by myself. Short of bringing the whole legal system (and possibly my abuser's wrath) crashing down on my head by calling 911, I would not have had any way of going to a court house or police station or hospital without the cooperation of my abuser. Chances are, I would have attempted something similar to what that 13 year old girl in Pennsylvania did, or worse. Maybe that would have happened even without parental notification or consent laws, but at least I would have had a better chance.

Sometimes girls really can't talk to their parents about things like this, or are afraid enough to do something like that girl did. Exceptions for rape victims aren't good enough. Sometimes rape victims can't talk about it (sure it would be nice, but see above, and consider the implications of PTSD). Sometimes they have no way of proving that it was rape. Girls in situations like these can really be hurt by parental consent laws, and there is no provision or exception you can add to these laws that will make them safe enough. Furthermore, no person should have the legal right to force a child to give birth. Plain and simple. Even if it wasn't rape or sexual abuse. Even if the pregnancy doesn't threaten the mother's health or life.

In an ideal world, girls and young women would always feel comfortable talking to their parents about things like unintended or unwanted pregnancies, and parents would always be caring and supportive and hopefully respect their child's choice to continue or not continue a pregnancy. But the real world isn't always like that. And when it is like that, the parental consent law is meaningless in the first place. In short, there is no good reason for these laws to exist.

I would like to make it clear that I'm not here to pass judgment on what anybody chooses to do when faced with an unintended pregnancy, nor to judge anybody who becomes unintentionally pregnant (there's too much of that in the world, and I think it's stupid). Abortion, adoption, or raising a child is a deeply personal decision to make, and it's not my business to say what's best for someone else. What's important here is the safety of girls like that 13 year old in Pennsylvania. Girls like I could have been.

There's no graceful way to talk about any of this, but I needed to talk about it. This hits too close to home for me not to say my piece. I ask that if you agree with me even in the slightest about the harmfulness of parental consent laws that you sign the petition here asking Pennsylvania lawmakers to repeal it. I know that repealing these laws isn't the only thing these girls need to be safer, not by a long shot, but it will help. When you're one of those girls, every little bit of help counts.

Memorial

2010-06-05T20:01:00.000-07:00

My grandpa's memorial service was today. It was a good service. I liked it. It was perhaps a bit religious for my tastes, but I think it's what he would have wanted. There were a couple poems, and this quote from The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran that I liked:

For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun?

And what is to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered?

Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing.

And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb.

And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.

There was more, but that was my favorite part. It kind of appeals to my pagan sensibilities.

A few relatives spoke. I really liked what they said. My brother wrote a very good speech. I think I would have liked to speak too, but I couldn't find the words, and I think I would have cried too much to get through it. One relative sang Amazing Grace, which I had hoped very much he would do. He sang it at my grandpa's brothers' memorials as well, and I always liked it. There was also an Honor Guard tribute for my grandpa's service in the navy during World War II. They played taps and did a flag folding, then gave the flag to my grandma. I'm not big on the military, but I liked the tribute. It seemed right. Definitely made me cry.

I saw a lot of relatives I hadn't seen in a while. Pretty much everyone I could think of was there, which was touching. I didn't really get to talk to very many people, but it was really nice to see them all there.

A lot of people asked which name to call me, or just called me Eve, so I guess more people must know about the planned name change. It's probably because I had them put the new name in my grandpa's obituary where they were listing grandchildren. I really should do a post about the name thing. I get so many questions about it, and I never know how to answer concisely. Maybe that'll be next.

Death, Boundaries, and Crazy People (and Family!)

2010-05-24T01:30:00.000-07:00

This has been the week of insanity! So much has happened.

My grandpa passed away around 1 AM on Tuesday. I haven't been able to write about it until now, partially because it's a lot to absorb, partially because I've been really busy with family stuff as a result. It's difficult. I don't really know what to say about it. I feel like I'm handing it pretty well. The tears come and go, but that's normal. I'm a little spacey and scatter-brained, but that's normal too. I'm sure it'll get better with time. I think it helps that we expected it to happen soon, so it wasn't too much of a surprise. And he's free now from the frustration and helplessness of the last couple years when his health was declining, so there's peace in that. He would have been 85 in July, so he had a good long life.

I don't know. I don't want to say too much about it. I think I just need to sit with it for a while. The memorial will be next weekend. I wonder what that will be like for me? This is the closest person to me that has ever passed away. The closest before that was my teacher who passed away last month. All of this really isn't helping with school, but I don't really care about that right now.

Anyway, I was going to talk about boundaries and crazy people too! During all of this madness, lots of people have given me their condolences, mainly friends and relatives, but I heard from a couple people I really would rather not hear from. Thursday morning, my dad sent me an email. About my grandpa. It read:

Dear Emily,

I am so sorry your grandfather passed away, and I wish to console you in this time of grief. Please know that I love you very much.

Dad

First off, I hate that he called me Emily. I've been Eve for nearly 4 years now, and he knows it. The reasons behind it are a post for another time (maybe soon?), but it's important. It's not like when my mom accidentally calls me Emily out of years of habit. This feels disrespectful. Secondly, there's nothing consoling about hearing from him for any reason! This is the man who molested me. The only consoling thing he could possibly do is to admit openly what he did to me, apologize profusely, take himself to therapy in hopes that he doesn't abuse any more people, pay for my therapy so I can get on with my life, and then never bother me again. I haven't been in contact with him for 3 years, and he knows why. It's presumptuous and wildly inappropriate of him to think that it's suddenly okay to contact me now that something sad and upsetting has happened in my life. As though it means I'll be less upset than usual to hear from him. As though his contacting me would make me feel any better (quite the opposite). Thirdly, I hate hearing him say he loves me very much. That's what he said when he was molesting me. That's how he manipulated me into keeping silent about it for all those years. I fucking hate hearing him say that! And I don't believe it for a minute. That's him trying to be charismatic and painting himself as a caring, compassionate person. That's how he covers his own ass.

Loving me would be not violating my body and taking advantage of my innocence, treating me like a person, not his property, not filling my head with gore and violence and paranoia, and a whole lot of other things he should have done that he didn't, or shouldn't have done that he did. After everything he's done, his saying he loves me sounds like bullshit, and it makes me angry! I hate lies. Maybe he even thinks he does love me, but that doesn't make it any better for him to say it. I don't think he has the right anymore.

Obviously that email did the opposite of consoling me. Out of all the times for him to contact me out of the blue, this is probably one of the worse ones. Not that there's ever a good time to hear from him. Cutting off from him is a huge part of the healing process for me, so this feels very invasive. It had me worried for a bit that he would try to go to the memorial, which would upset me a lot. Blegh.

The other person I heard from was my dad's girlfriend. That wasn't as bad, but I still don't enjoy hearing from her. She didn't abuse me at all, so it's definitely not as upsetting when she attempts to contact me, but she does take my dad's side in all this, and has said to her daughters and my brother that I'm being delusional and spiteful (basically denying that anything happened to me), while telling my mom that my dad never explained any of it to her, so she has no idea about any of it, and simultaneously sending my mom articles about false recovered memories (there was no recovery because I never forgot). She also suggested to my mom that my "delusions" or "difficulties" were from emotional distress I experienced after breaking up with my first boyfriend (it wasn't a serious thing, and I wasn't at all distressed), or maybe something to do with practicing hypnosis with one of my other past boyfriends who she described as a beginner (not even close, he'd been doing it for YEARS). Hypnosis doesn't work that way, by the way. Anyway, she seems perfectly content to pretend none of the abuse exists, talk trash about me behind my back to my brother and her daughters (who were my best friends growing up, almost like siblings, so you can imagine how I feel about that!), and still act nice and friendly to my face (she sends me e-cards for my birthday and every big holiday and forwards funny/interesting emails to me...which I send to spam). At best it's dishonest, and I have no interest in having dishonest people in my life. At worst, she's calling me a liar and allowing a known child abuser to live in her home with her two children (and not taking their discomfort of being around him seriously), and I do question what kind of mother would allow someone like that near her children. I think she has some serious blinders on. And either way, I'm surprised she would think I would want anything to do with her while she's saying such things about me. She doesn't upset me like my dad does; I just don't want to hear from her as long as she thinks I'm lying.

So yeah. That's most of it. It hasn't been all bad though! Yesterday I went to a baby shower for a cousin of mine. Her little boy is so cute! (the shower was held after the birth, rather than before) It was really nice to see her and a bunch of other relatives I haven't seen in a really long time. I wish I saw them more often. So many people to keep in touch with though! I have a lot of extended family. And in case I haven't mentioned, all the relatives I talk about (my grandpa, the baby shower, etc) in any of my blogs are on my mom's side, so there's no real conflict there regarding my dad, thankfully! All my dad's immediate family are long deceased, and I've never met any of the extended family, so I didn't have to worry about that when I decided to stop keeping silent. Most of my extended family don't know about the abuse though. Not that I'm trying to keep it secret or anything, it's just not the sort of thing that comes up or that we call each other to spread around.

Wow, I guess I had a lot to talk about! And probably more to talk about after finals next week.

May Henna

2010-05-09T01:35:00.000-07:00

I fiiiiiiiiiiinally got around to hennaing my roots yesterday! I meant to do it back March. That's how hectic things have been. Yay for all my hair being the same color again! I don't think my roots were that noticeable though, even if they were 2 inches. That's the nice thing about dyeing with henna. It just adds red to what you've got, so your hair doesn't get any lighter or darker. Just redder. So the transition in color from the dyed part to the roots is fairly subtle. It only really shows close up.

Which is why I was able to procrastinate a whole 2 months on dyeing my roots!

Anyway, I thought I'd post a little growing-out-my-hair update, since I haven't done that in a while. I took this picture a few days ago, before the new henna:

I would have smiled more, but I was distracted by attempting to take a picture of myself that actually had my whole head in the frame. Now I realize I could have just turned the camera sideways, but I didn't think of that at the time for some reason. And I don't have time to take a new picture right now. Aaaaaaanyway. Yay, hair is longer! I can do ponytails now, and they're long enough to look good. And I got this wooden hair ornament thingy. It's really awesome and I love it, but I'm still getting the hang of how to use it. My hair's too slippery! It's all that henna making my hair healthy. Here's what that looks like in my hair:

And here's a better look at the hair ornament:

My coworker Jana sells these on Etsy. You should go check out her shop! There are some really beautiful hair ornaments over there. There are a few pictures of me here and there modeling some of them back when my hair was barely long enough to stay up. I'm the redheaded one. I want to try the hair sticks next! Apparently the little twist in them helps them stay in better than normal hair sticks. It certainly works with the stick in my hair piece! (the stick is curved, which helps it holds the hair better) Yay!

Excited About School Again

2010-05-03T12:14:00.000-07:00

I dropped my Russian class. Now that my original teacher is gone, and attempts to talk to the new teacher about my situation have been less than fruitful, there didn't seem to be much point in sticking around for three more weeks of stress and panic attacks. I realized that this class has been almost the sole source of anxiety for me this semester. It's the hardest out of the four foreign languages I've studied (harder even than Arabic), there are three different levels sharing the same classroom and teacher at the same time, the acoustics in the room are so terrible you can hardly hear the teacher, and a lot of the native speakers (about half the class) just goof off and talk, so then you REALLY can't hear the teacher. On top of that, I haven't been able to learn a single thing from the new teacher in the last month. She just doesn't know or use English well enough to explain the concepts she's trying to teach. Basically, the whole situation is a recipe for disaster.

But! I realized I don't have to stick around and stress myself and my boyfriend out. And because the likelihood of a third term being available next Spring doesn't look promising, my main reason for taking the class is gone. I'm going to learn it at my own pace now.

I'm really excited about signing up for Fall classes this week! I almost decided not to, but it looks like I'll be taking 17 units next semester. Initially I wasn't sure about taking the human sexuality class, but I found out it counts toward transferring. Plus it's online, and apparently it's a really easy class. In fact almost all the classes I'm signing up for are easy classes, so I don't think it'll be that bad. The library classes will probably be the most challenging (I'm trying to get a library technology certificate so I can get a better paying job with the library). I'll be learning things like cataloging and reference, which are things I don't have any experience with at my library.

It's really nice to be excited about school again, instead of stressed about it. Though I'm also really excited about the end of the semester and being off for the summer! I have so many things to do!

Spring Cleaning on Beltane

2010-05-02T22:37:00.000-07:00

I've been cleaning a lot the past couple weeks. I think it helps me deal with all the stress. Very calming, especially after going to my teacher's memorial service yesterday (open casket, rather unnerving).

I've been systematically going through every single part of my room and organizing, getting rid of things, rearranging, dusting, and de-cobwebbing (it's ridiculous how much dust and cobwebs there are in my room). I have a rather large room, and far more stuff in it than I have room for, so there's a lot to go through.

I also helped my mom repair the vacuum today. It was completely clogged with hair and dust, and I successfully took it apart, helped her clean it out, and put it back together. I felt very accomplished.

It feels good letting go of so much extra stuff. And making better use of the stuff I have. I think it makes me feel productive, like I'm waking up from the past few months, and keeps my mind from dwelling on stressful things.

I made cut-offs today. :)

I also went through all the old letters I've saved over the years. I only read some of them. A few made me a bit nostalgic. Some just bothered me. There was an old card from my dad's girlfriend, which I put in the recycling, along with a few letters from someone I stopped being friends with a few years ago (toxic friend). Those letters were a reminder of why I cut off from her: lots of apologizing for blowing up at me over trivial things. After a while, there was too much blowing up at me, too much criticism and judgment, and not enough apologies to make it okay. There were also letters from some of my exes. I saved some. Just the ones that remind me of the things that made me happy, which was most of them. I think that's something to be happy about. I don't have too many regrets there. Besides, I learned a lot, and I think that has helped with having a healthy relationship now. Tangent!

Anywho, it's really nice having a clean living space for once. I can reach my closet!

Irina

2010-04-26T22:41:00.000-07:00

My Russian teacher (the original one who was sick and went on leave of absence) has passed away. I don't know exactly when it happened. Sometime in the last few days. I don't know what it was, just that she'd been ill for at least the last few months. Still, nobody expected her to go this soon.

I miss her. It hurts. A lot.

She was a very special teacher. When I told her about my panic attacks and my brother's scary, violent episodes, the reasons I would miss her class for weeks at a time sometimes, she was so understanding and supportive. She told me I was a wonderful, rare young woman and told me to keep fighting. She told my boyfriend (also in the class) how much of a gentleman he was for sticking by my side and taking care of me through all of this. She told me that taking care of my safety and mental health was more important than being in class. She cared.

The very last class before she had to go on leave, and the last time I saw her, she gave me a huge hug when I walked in the door. Every time I think about that I want to cry. I can't believe she's gone. It's not fair.

I don't think I can write anymore right now. It hurts too much.

Russian Teacher Disaster

2010-04-19T22:19:00.000-07:00

School just entered a whole new world of suck today.

My awesome Russian teacher has taken a leave of absence for the rest of the semester due to some kind of serious illness. I wasn't in class last week, but according to everyone, the new teacher sucked. Today when I finally came back to class, the replacement had been replaced.

CHAOS!

The new teacher seems nice enough as a person, but as a teacher she makes me want to cry because I'm never going to learn anything for the rest of the semester unless I give up sleeping ever again so I can teach myself everything I should be learning in class.

OH. MY. GOD. THIS. WOMAN.

She can barely speak English. She spends the nearly the whole class speaking to us in Russian that is so far advanced beyond the level of our class that only the native speakers can understand anything she says, meaning only native speakers get to participate in the class. Not to mention it's too fast. Every five minutes she'll throw in some English to try and explain to the half of us who aren't already fluent, but her English is so bad that there's no understanding unless we've ALREADY learned the concept she's trying to explain. Several of us complained that we couldn't understand or participate (even a couple native speakers spoke on our behalf), but she didn't stop. You can't do that to a first year language class! We won't learn anything! Gods, I hope it's not like this on Wednesday.

This makes me so anxious that even thinking about it a little bit makes me feel sick and like I want to cry. I spent all of class today with a mini anxiety-induced adrenaline rush from trying to stay afloat. I left feeling sweaty, tense, and slightly in shock. Ick!

What the hell am I going to do about this?

Crazy Semester is Crazy

2010-04-13T01:09:00.000-07:00

Figuring out classes for next semester. Exciting!

Definitely:

3 to 5 library classes (gotta get that library assistant job!), 6-9 units, two classes online!
First term conversational French (only 3 units, but 3rd term French conflicts with work too much for now, and I want more conversational practice anyway)

Some or all of these:

Intro to Computer Software (basically all the MS Office software, which I mostly know, but Excel would be really handy to know more in depth for work), 1 unit, online class! Yay!
Beginning Hatha Yoga, again (as soon as I stopped taking it, I realized it was helping me stay sane and kept my back problems at bay), 1 unit
Human Sexuality! (I feel pretty well informed already, but I think everyone should take this class at some point, plus it's all online and it's 3 units!)

So I could end up anywhere from 12-17 units. And only taking one language! Gasp! I didn't have much of a choice though. 3rd term French is at the same time as 3rd term Italian, so I could only take one or the other. But they both conflict with work, so I'm doing conversational French at night, ruling out both. There's no conversational Italian class. :( For some unholy reason, 3rd term Russian is only available in the Spring (And no, I'm not off schedule. There's only 1st term Russian in the Fall. 2nd, 3rd, and 4th are all in the Spring, so if you want to keep going, you have to wait a year between levels after your first 2 classes. Stupid, I know.). And there's no 3rd term Arabic (sad face). The only other languages are Chinese, Spanish, Japanese, and German, and I'm not excited enough about any of those right now to start a 5th foreign language (Plus scheduling fail! Brought to you by budget cuts). So I guess I'm stuck with a semester of partial language withdrawal. Boo.

This is going to be a weird semester for me. But library classes! 19 units of library classes and I can get certified and get a new job! That pays better! And only have to sell half my soul to pay for school when I eventually transfer instead of the whole thing! Woo! And French and/or Russian certification whenever I get around to taking the 3rd term (I could really use Russian for work!). Gods, I'm going to be in school forever! I have 3 semesters of mostly library stuff before I even really begin to tackle my GE/transfer requirements (except foreign language, I've got that covered times infinity!). And who knows how long the GE stuff will take me. Knowing the ways my PTSD limits me at school, I might not be able to do it the quickest way possible. So I'll probably be a couple years away from 30 when I finally graduate. Summer classes are looking more and more appealing. But, hey! It's not like I want to do my master's in my 20's anyway! And at least I'll have my sanity. I hope. :)

A Few Thoughts on Bisexuality

2010-02-07T13:30:00.000-08:00

I came across this video of Dan Savage a while ago, and it got me thinking about perceptions and misconceptions about bisexuals like me. Warning, this video is NOT safe for work. It gets a bit sexually explicit at the end where he goes off on a tangent.

I'm just going to deal with the topic of bisexuality here, not the bit about whether or not sexual orientation is a choice. For the purposes of this blog, I'm going to take it as a given that one does not choose one's orientation. Anyway, I think he makes some valid and interesting points. As he said, it often can be part of the process of coming out as gay. I had a friend in high school who did exactly that. And some people get curious and try it out when they're unsure. I have a few friends who've gone there too. (except they generally identify as straight-but-curious or bi-curious, not bi) And a few friends who consider themselves straight, but have found themselves attracted to someone of the same sex and wondered if that means they're bi or gay. But, I think some people (the ones who think bisexuality isn't real) fall into the trap of thinking that that's all that it is, just a part of the process of questioning.

The parents of a girl I was friends of in high school assured her I was just "confused" when they heard about me. And even gay people sometimes look at bi people funny, which I've never quite understood. A couple years ago I went to Gay Pride in San Francisco with the guy I was dating at the time. Some girl expressed surprise at seeing "a straight couple" at pride (because that never happens!). I told her I wasn't straight, but she still seemed a bit weirded out by our presence. It seemed as though she didn't take me seriously as a legitimately queer person because I was with a man and not a woman.

And then there are the people who think bisexuals are nymphomaniacs, or something like that; people who suggest that bi people just want to have sex with anything that moves and are so insatiable that we'll overlook gender so we can be more promiscuous. Or that we say we're bi just to get attention.

Wait...what? No. Just no. (I really like what this guy has to say about it in the second half of the video)

Now about how some of these misconceptions have affected me: first off, it annoys me when people think I'm just confused. I first realized I was bi when I was 14, and looking back, it was pretty obvious before that. (When my brother was perusing the models in the lingerie catalogs, so was I, and it wasn't because I wanted to look like them. That was attraction, plain and simple.) I've been out for over 7 years now, and I haven't strayed from my non-gender-discriminating ways when it comes to physical attraction. I have questioned myself a lot though. Hearing people call me confused, or not accepting me as actually queer, or past boyfriends wondering if I could really be attracted to them if I liked women gave me a lot of self-doubt to wrestle with. Was I just dating men because it was expected? Could I really say I liked women if I'd never been with one? Am I trying to get attention?

That last question was the easiest: no. For a couple years I was afraid to be openly out. I told a few friends eventually, after stressing out about it for months, but most people I hid it from until my junior year, silently crushing on the girl who had a locker next to mine freshman year, or the cheerleader who was the T.A. in my English class sophomore year. I'm pretty sure that's the opposite of doing something for attention. It took me a little longer to figure out if I really truly liked men too, but the answer was yes. By my second boyfriend I was completely sure. I realized that while I notice women much more frequently than men, my attraction to the men I've fallen for has been every bit as strong as what I've had toward women. The question about my attraction to women didn't get answered fully until just a couple years ago, but I thought that question was silly anyway. After all, I was still attracted to men before I ever dated or slept with one, and I had the same attraction to women. I did eventually get into a relationship with another woman, and not surprisingly, the nature of my attraction felt the same as it had with men I had dated. (It's a little weird to think of her in terms of being an ex, since now I just think of her as one of my close friends, and things didn't progress quite to the point that most of my other relationships did so there's not as much ex-baggage for me. ....tangent.... And she's probably reading this. Hi, lady!) And the same went for the other women I got involved with after that. Conclusion: not a phase, not confusion, not for attention.

Another idea I've come across is a concern some people have that if they date a bi person, that person is likely to cheat on them. I think the assumption is something along the lines of "if they're dating a man, won't they feel they're missing out on being with women?" or vice versa. Maybe that's true for some people, but I don't think that's really the way it works. People who would prefer an open relationship or poly relationships might feel that they're missing out if they're limited to one person, but I think that's more about preferences for monogamy or non-monogamy, not about sexual orientation. Straight or gay people can feel that way too. (Also, if a person is going to cheat on you, it'll probably be with whichever gender they're attracted to, which could be either one if they're bi. I don't think bisexuals are more likely to cheat, and if they did it wouldn't be as a result of their bisexuality.)

One more video that makes several good points:

So, what do you think? What is up with all the stereotypes? Do you believe any of them? Have you had to deal with any of them?

Quite a Long Absence

2010-02-07T12:53:00.000-08:00

It's been a while since I last posted. I had one post in the works back in November, but I never got around to finishing it (doing that now).

November and December ended up being extremely busy months for me, mostly because of school and preparing for finals. I once again managed to get very good grades, so my cumulative GPA is looking much better than it did in high school. Yay, I'm making progress. This December also marked the first year I didn't get depressed about the holidays since I cut off contact with my dad. Also progress. And my dad's girlfriend didn't try to give me a present this year, which I'm rather glad about. The last couple times it seemed rather two-faced of her, since I know she thinks I'm delusional and/or spiteful and likes to say so (she thinks I made up everything about my dad abusing me...I wish! Then I wouldn't have to spend thousands of dollars on therapy). And yet for quite some time she kept trying to be nice to me to my face. So at least she's being more honest now.

The end of December/beginning of January was spent with a bunch of my friends camped out on a mountain. A wonderful time was had by all. And I had my 22nd birthday while I was there. A very special birthday. Maybe I'll post about that later. Unfortunately, at the end I got a bad cold. Shortly after I got well again, school started (aaaah, busy!). And now, only two weeks into the semester, I'm sick again. Joy.

Somewhere in all that I got back into leatherworking, one of my favorite hobbies of all time. Two of my artistically inclined friends have teamed up with me to try our hands at selling leather masks on Etsy (think masquerade ball, Mardi Gras, Halloween, costume party, or wall decoration, not gimp masks... a lot of people go there). I'll post pictures at some point.

Anywho, busy busy busy! I'm starting going to therapy again, twice a month now that money's a little better (I had stopped at the end of August for financial reasons). I wish I could go weekly (or better yet, biweekly), but I'll take what I can get. I know I've been doing pretty well, but I know I can improve more. I want to do better than just managing my symptoms of PTSD.

I'm going to try to post more, but we'll see.

Demon

2009-11-14T12:58:00.000-08:00

My boyfriend turned himself into a demon.

Learning to Sing

2009-10-30T01:04:00.000-07:00

Have I mentioned that I'm taking a vocal training class this semester? I've always enjoyed singing (alone, I'm shy), and I decided I'd like to learn how to do it better. And get over my dreadful stage fright. A friend of mine had taken this class before, and convinced me it would be a lot of fun, which it is. So, in the spirit of getting over my stage fright and learning to be okay with people hearing me sing even though I don't really know what I'm doing yet (and don't have much confidence about how I sound yet), here's a video of my first performance in class.

Watching the video, it's pretty clear that I'm nervous and unaccustomed to performing. I'm pretty stiff throughout the whole thing (theoretically I will get better about stage presence with practice). Please excuse the crappy picture quality. I was having some issues with my editing software, so I had to jump through a few hoops, and lost a lot of quality in the process. Oh well. Also, you may have to turn it up a bit to hear me over the crappy karaoke. It was turned up a bit too loud. ( I do sing a bit a cappella after some comments and tips from the teacher, so you can hear it better there)

Anyway, here I am, singing Leather by Tori Amos:

Pumpkin Cranberry Ginger Muffins

2009-10-18T13:43:00.000-07:00

As promised, here's my recipe for pumpkin muffins with cranberries and ginger. With pictures! It's a very easy recipe, and anyone who likes pumpkin will love these muffins. (seriously, after I finished yesterday's batch, I had to resist the urge to eat them all myself in one go!) This recipe is modified from the pumpkin cranberry muffin recipe in The Victory Garden Cookbook by Marian Morash. My main addition is the ginger bits. The idea came to me when eating a ginger snap with chunks of ginger in it. (I love ginger snaps!) Then I adjusted the spices slightly to be more ginger-snap-like. The end result is much more popular than the muffins I made from the original recipe.

Ingredients:
1 cup dried cranberries (the original recipe called for fresh, but I don't like how tart they are)
¼ cup candied or crystallized ginger (optional, but awesome)
2 cups flour
1 cup sugar
½ tsp baking powder
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp salt
1 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp ground ginger (my addition, because it tastes better that way)
½ tsp allspice
½ tsp ground cloves (also my addition)
½ cup butter (Room temperature! It needs to be soft.)
2 eggs
1⅔ cups cooked mashed pumpkin (If you're interested in cooking your own pumpkin, that'll be in my next post. Otherwise, you can find canned pumpkin pretty easily this time of year.)

Preheat oven to 350°. Set aside cranberries and candied ginger.

As you can see, my candied ginger came in big chunks. I cut each chunk up into smaller pieces. Do the same with your cranberries if they're whole.

The original recipe called for 1 to 1¼ cups cranberries. I substituted the ginger for that last ¼ cup. You can alter the proportions however you like. (Really like ginger? Use fewer cranberries to make room for extra ginger bits.) As you can see, I measure the two together, approximating. The only important part is having the same total amount. And you could probably try other dried fruits, or chopped walnuts, or what have you. Whatever you use, make sure the pieces are small so they'll distribute evenly.

Sift together all dry ingredients.

To save me time when I'm baking, I measure out the dry ingredients earlier in the week when I have a little free time. I like to make lots of these muffins, so I've measured out 2 batches worth here into plastic containers. When baking day comes around, I just have to pour it into the sifter. I do the same with my cranberries and ginger bits in little plastic bags (the pre-measuring, not the sifting).

Add butter, eggs, and pumpkin and mix together with a pastry blender until just combined. This is what a pastry blender looks like:

If you don't have a pastry blender (also called a pastry cutter), I strongly suggest you get one. With this recipe, the pastry blender is your best friend. Using anything else is an exercise in frustration (except maybe a kitchen-aid mixer, those things are amazing!). To begin with, you'll want a spoon to scrape the pastry blender clean periodically until the batter is mostly blended. Your batter should look something like this when you're done, kinda like pumpkin oatmeal.

Stir in cranberries and candied ginger. Line your muffin tray with baking cups.

You can grease the muffin tray if you don't have baking cups, but I prefer not to add any more butter than the muffins already have. Besides, baking cups are easier to get out of the tray (and it helps if the tray is non-stick). Fill muffin cups almost full.

I fill them pretty much as full as they will go without going over the tops of the paper liners. Bake in preheated oven for 30-35 minutes or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Makes 14-18 medium muffins.

Taking a snack break while the muffins are in the oven!

When the muffins come out of the oven, let them sit for a minute or two so you can take them out of the tray without burning yourself. Then put the muffins on a cooling rack and let them cool the rest of the way.

Then they're ready to eat!

If they're not all going to be eaten that day, I store them in a gallon sized plastic bag to keep them fresh. They usually last up to 2 weeks this way (if they don't all get eaten before then!).

If you try the recipe, feel free to let me know what you think. By the way, if you make more than one batch at a time, I suggest mixing each batch separately. I've found it really hard to mix larger quantities without lumps of flour that don't get mixed in, and that never tastes good.

Enjoy!

Thoughts about Anxiety & a Quick Update

2009-10-17T00:53:00.000-07:00

Well, I'll do the update part first. I have a post in the works with my pumpkin muffin recipe. There will be pictures! I've been doing bits of preparation here and there this week to save time later. I'm probably going to bake the muffins in the morning. I'm also going to include information about how to cook your own pumpkin, if you're interested in doing that extra step (I think it tastes a little better). That'll probably be a separate post, in the interest of keeping things short and simple.

-The rest of this ended up longer than I planned, but it was very important for me to write it.-

Okay, now for what I actually wanted to write about. (that last paragraph was partially to calm me down) Lately I've been noticing I have a lot of anxiety and a definite panic response in regards to hospitals and a some medical procedures or situations. It feels much like my PTSD from the sexual abuse, but it's hard to say if it's actually a result of that or from some other trauma. Or maybe in between.

I think that because of my PTSD and the resulting panic attacks and anxiety, my reaction to most things that I find upsetting or distressing feels like that, even if it's not about the abuse at all. There are some very distinct physical sensations that I get during abuse-related panic attacks that I also get when confronted with certain medical situations, or the idea of those situations. I think I should clarify: I don't really get panic attacks anymore. Not like I used to before therapy. I still get the physical sensations of panic, along with some mental distress, but it's at a much lower level where I can still keep myself pretty calm and not go over the edge into that out-of-control, scary place. I feel very good about being able to recognize those sensations for what they are and be gentle with myself and not escalate the panic. That's helped a lot with school, my job, and my relationships (especially with my boyfriend, as that had been a big point of stress for us previously).

Anyway, I'm starting to become aware that I have this reaction to a lot of medical things. I think some component of that anxiety is related to the childhood sexual abuse. Situations that I perceive to be invasive are very distressing for me in a way that they weren't before I began to confront and process the abuse. (As I'm sure I mentioned in my post about the topic, I spent several years trying to ignore, forget, and numb myself against all traces of the abuse. I spent those years dissociated to the extent that I was able to gloss over most of it, but my ability to interact socially was severely dampened. The panic attacks really took off when I started to come out of that protective haze and was no longer able to ignore those things.)

So there's that, but I think there's also an experiential basis for some of my anxiety about medical things. Repeatedly throughout my life, mainly in middle school and high school, I would have pains in various limbs or joints, probably as a result of carrying a backpack that was many pounds too heavy for my small frame. Every time I would go to the doctor looking for help with the sudden onset of pain, I was met with, "I can't find anything wrong with you. Just rest it a bit and you'll be fine." I never felt like the doctors took me or my pain seriously, even the couple of times I had to leave school in a wheelchair because I was unable to walk.

-I'm having a hard time writing this post. I feel very anxious thinking about these things.-

There was also one big, unpleasant experience in the emergency room in Edinburgh, Scotland about 3 years ago. I was having stabbing chest pains like I get occasionally (which I later learned was actually referred pain from my back problems). They wanted to check for heart problems. They took a blood sample, which I've never liked (needles have always bothered me, but usually I can deal just fine if it's quick), and decided to leave the needle in, in case they needed to take more later (it had an off valve, so it was designed for that). They left it in the entire 4 hours I was there, which was extremely uncomfortable and prevented me from bending my elbow. For 4 hours. This is the part that's a really big deal: when I was released, they made me dress with the needle still in the crook of my elbow. VERY PAINFUL. Not to mention medically unnecessary, and probably a bad idea. (I've been told that it can scar the vein) I had to really bug the doctor to get him to take it out instead of making me do it. (WTF?) Before this, my aversion to needles was mild. Now I get dizzy and queasy at the thought, my face kinda goes numb, and I get short of breath. Thinking about it long enough to write this paragraph made me cry. And I never did get a straight answer about what was causing the pain. (Normal blood work and EKGs = nothing's wrong?)

-Phew. That was tough. Keep writing.-

One big, bad medical experience, plus lots of little bad experiences with doctors not taking me seriously, plus a couple very upsetting experiences in the minor injury center (a surly nurse, and a doctor who said I was fine, only for me to break down sobbing from the pain as soon as I left the office), plus PTSD-fueled reacting mechanisms. I feel the sensations of panic when I think about having any kind of surgery, about having my wisdom teeth out, or about going to the hospital for anything other than an office visit or routine exam. Gynecological visits don't bother me at all, for some reason (the pelvic exams don't feel invasive to me). If the thought of giving birth comes up (which it does at times, since I want to have children eventually, and since it comes up in conversations or things I read), I'm absolutely terrified by the idea of an epidural, an IV, any kind of incision, including C-section, or the possibility of any invasive medical interventions that could be necessary. But the thought of giving birth itself, of the birthing pains and the actual process doesn't make me anxious at all.

It's something about invasiveness, relinquishing control to some person I don't trust, and fear of my needs being ignored or trivialized...versus the integrity of my body and my self. Maybe that's why sexuality is one of the things I feel very comfortable about, despite the nature of the abuse. In consensual, intimate situations, I don't feel compromised or invaded. I feel my body being in a natural and positive space. I don't connect it to the abuse at all. It feels completely the opposite, being on equal footing instead of manipulated by a drastically skewed power balance, a celebration instead of shame.

Now that I'm figuring out about all these triggers I have around medical things, I really wish I were still in therapy. I wish we still had that extra little bit of money. I think I might just have to tighten my budget considerably to be able to go back at least once a month. I think I need it. Sorry about the ridiculous length of this post! It only took me 2 hours to sort through all those thoughts. It made me feel pretty anxious, but I feel better now that it's out and written. If you had the patience to read the whole thing, thank you!

A Bit More Hair

2009-10-12T13:24:00.001-07:00

Because it's been a while since I checked my progress, here's a new pic of how long my hair's gotten, as of today. (I wish my freckles showed up better in photos)

On one side it's still just a bit too short to stay neatly tucked behind my ear. Almost there! In the mean time, I've been using a bobby pin (not shown here) to keep it from falling in my face all the time. It looks kinda dorky, but it gets the job done. I'm waiting until my hair's a bit past chin length before I cut off the awkward lower layers in back.

Wow, when I look back at the last picture of my hair from my henna post in August, I realize my hair's grown a lot in the last couple months!

Coming up in about a week, hopefully, I'll share my recipe for pumpkin cranberry ginger muffins. Yay.

Sheet Music Excitement!

2009-09-12T00:49:00.000-07:00

So, I just ordered a book of sheet music to use for my applied vocal training class...from France...I think...in euros. The exchange rate is going to kill me.

I was listening to the song Yemma by Souad Massi, one of my favorite Arab musicians, and I really wanted to learn the song. I managed to find lyrics, and was happily singing along in Arabic that I couldn't comprehend for the life of me, when I had the great idea to look for sheet music. And I actually found some! Surprise! (really, I wasn't expecting to when I can't find sheet music for any of the celtic folk songs I want to learn) But, uhhh, the site was half in French, half in English. And the site name is Italian. Wha? Searching google and amazon for the same thing yielded absolutely no results, so I went for the mysterious euro-site. They take paypal!

39 euros later (including shipping, ouch!), I'm very excited about the sheet music. I hope it ends up being as awesome as I think it will. There are 13 songs, many of which I love, including the one I wanted to learn, all for piano, voice, and guitar (including tablature!). Yay! Aside from the song Yemma being awesome, I'm just excited about the idea of performing in Arabic for one of my 4 songs (the first one, in two weeks, will be Leather by Tori Amos). I love Arabic, it's such a beautiful language!

And now it's late, so I should go to bed and continue being excited in the morning.

New Semester

2009-08-21T12:29:00.000-07:00

I'm at work, writing on my lunch break.

I've just finished my first week of the new semester at school, yay! I'm excited about all my classes. Russian looks like it will be challenging, but not too much more than Arabic was last year. French is a breeze, since it's all stuff I've learned before. It comes back quickly. Oh, how I missed French! French was my first foreign language, and it'll probably always be the one I'm most comfortable with. I love all the languages I've studied though...and I'm going off on a tangent. Anyway.

I'm taking a beginning yoga class as well. So far it's wonderful, but difficult. I definitely feeling the soreness in my lower abs and upper thighs. This class will be good for me, with all the back problems I tend to have. It's tough to do some of the poses in an ankle brace though. (I injured my ankle a couple weeks ago, and it's still giving me some trouble, thus the brace) Last, but not least, I'm taking vocal training! Aaaaah! I have horrible stage fright, and the idea of singing in front of 20 other people is terrifying. But I'm going to do it. I love singing, and I want to learn how to do it better. I want to strengthen my quiet voice and know how to breathe right so I don't get tired quickly. And I want to get over this stage fright! I have to perform about once a month, which I think will do the trick. I was nervous pretty much the whole class, but it all melted away once we started singing. It just feels so good that I have to keep doing it.

So that's what's up right now. I'm not going to have as much time as would like between school and work, but I'm going to try to keep up with the blogging. It's a good outlet, and I have a couple posts in mind that I'd really like to do soon. (the story behind my name, which wasn't always Eve; a post about why I do henna; the aftermath of posting about my abuse; a little bit about the wonderful camping trip I went on, and of course, pictures!)

Henna!

2009-08-13T15:24:00.000-07:00

Figleaf just did a post about henna, which has inspired me to do a short post of my own (which I've kinda been meaning to do for a little while, but I'll probably do a longer one later).

Henna tattooing has long been a favorite hobby of mine. Actually, I don't know if hobby is the right word. It started as a hobby, but I have begun to incorporate it into my spiritual practices as well.

Here are a few pictures of henna tattoos I've done in the last couple years:

Doodling on my friend Jess's arm (the paste is still on, which is why it looks black):

Ashtadala (eight-pointed sun symbol) with lotus petals (for grace, beauty, femininity) for my friend Cricket:

Abstract geometric design on myself for Samhain a couple years ago:

Doodling on my toes this summer (check out the sandal tan!):

Doodles from camping a couple weeks ago (stars on my fingers, the four elements on the back on my hand, and an abstract bracelet):
Henna also makes an amazing natural hair dye! (using a different recipe than that for body art)

This is how my hennaed hair looks about 9 months after I began dyeing it. I have periodically dyed my roots, but I have not gone over previously dyed areas. It doesn't fade at all!

Yay, pictures! The Ashtadala and the toe doodles were inspired by photos in the book Mehndi: The Timeless Art of Henna Painting by Loretta Roome, which is a wonderful resource for both cultural and practical information about henna. The other designs are my own. I'm trying to get more practice lately, since one of my friends has requested that I do her bridal henna next summer. Obviously I have a long way to go! (note: I'm not knocking my work, I'm just acknowledging that I haven't yet reached the level of intricacy of bridal henna yet) I'll be doing some this weekend for the start of a new semester at school, so I expect there will be more pictures soon. And at some point I plan on writing more in depth about my henna practices and why henna is important to me.

Camping!

2009-07-26T14:02:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow morning I leave on a camping trip! Yaaaayy! I can't wait. I'll be gone about a week and a half, so I guess I'll be terribly behind on all the blogs I follow by the time I get back.

I'll be going north to the Sonoma coast, where it will hopefully be cooler than here in the bay area (I'm a bit inland, and it gets hot). And misty and foggy! I love the coast.

My Story

2009-07-20T12:53:00.000-07:00

This post is going to be hard for me to write, but I need to write it. I spend too much time silent about it. This post is about the sexual abuse I experienced as a kid and its aftermath. It may be triggering or upsetting to read, because I will go into to detail. This will be long. Here goes.

My father was abusive. He never hit me, and he always talked about how he hated violence towards women after seeing his mother beaten by his father, but that didn't stop him from doing other things to me. When I was 11, he started molesting me. He would rub his crotch against mine, french kiss me, have me bathe with him, have me give him handjobs, and perform oral sex on me. He also showed me books of erotica and pornographic photos. He would tell me he was in love with me, that he wished he could marry me. A couple times he said he wanted to have sex with me as soon as I was physically old enough, which he judged to be 16.

He never physically forced me. He just did it. He did it under the guise of affection. At first I didn't understand that it was wrong, I just knew that was how I got affection. I thought it meant my daddy loved me. He wouldn't criticize me or lecture me about my flaws when it was happening. I knew something bad would happen if anyone found out, but I didn't really understand. Physically, I liked the way it felt. I was beginning to go through puberty, my hormones were doing weird things, and my body reacted. When it came to touching him though, I just felt numb. It was this thing I was supposed to do, which I did very mechanically, after which he would be very affectionate. The kissing was the same way. It didn't feel good, it was just this thing happening to me. It was supposed to mean he cared about me.

A couple years later when I was about 13, I began to understand better how wrong it was. I started to realize that it was considered disgusting for a child to be doing those things with her father. And I blamed myself. I thought it was somehow my fault for going along with it, that I should have known that it was not okay, I should have fought back, said no. I felt so guilty for not having said no. After that I did say no. Eventually he stopped trying, but living with him got a lot worse.

I tried to just forget about it, pretend it didn't happen. Every time the thought came up I'd just push it away and try to ignore it. I tried to convince myself it never happened. Throughout middle school and high school, when the other kids would talk or joke about sexual things (always in speculation, as it was clear to me that they didn't actually know certain experiential things), I would fight the urge to correct the facts or to say anything that might give away the fact that I'd had sexual experiences. I knew I wouldn't be able to explain how I knew at that age unless I told about my dad, and then everyone would think I was disgusting. Or they'd just call me a slut.

My senior year of high school it got really bad. As hard as I tried, I couldn't get rid of the memories or the guilt. The problems with depression and anxiety I'd been having since I was 11 got so bad that I couldn't get myself to school in the morning, I could barely make it to work, I suffered frequent panic attacks, and a few times I contemplated suicide. A semester away from graduation, I dropped out of school. I started intensive group therapy 3 days a week, 4 hours each day, plus a weekly individual session, but I never mentioned the abuse. I was terrified that if I said anything, somehow it would get out and my family would fall apart, and I would be blamed for it.

I should mention that at this point my parents had divorced finally (thank gods!) and my dad was living in a different town with his girlfriend and her two daughters (the older of whom was the first best friend I ever had...if you're reading this, thanks for bearing with me, I know it's probably hard to read all this, and I'm sorry you had to live with him). My younger brother and I visited every Sunday, per the custody agreement, and because that was the only time we got to see our friends. Even after I turned 18, I still visited. I tried to have a normal relationship with my dad. Still, it kept getting worse.

I managed to tell a couple friends, without any details, and swore them to secrecy. But it was still too much to handle. I was consumed by guilt and pain. When I was 19 I went back to therapy for one session. I told the therapist about the abuse. I didn't think he'd report it, since I wasn't a minor anymore. I just wanted help dealing with it without dragging my family into it. Well, first off, the therapist told me he wouldn't help me with the abuse trauma. He said my insurance didn't cover treatment that long-term, so we could work on my depression, but nothing else. He referred me to a private practice that charged $100 an hour, money I simply didn't have. Then he started asking me all kinds of questions, and somehow I let it slip that there were 2 teenagers living in the same house as my dad. Of course it had to be reported. I was devastated. My worst fear, my family finding out, was partially realized, and I had been told my insurance wouldn't allow me any treatment.

A social worker went to the house he lived in and asked the girls some questions, I guess determining that they had not been abused (which is what I thought...I didn't think he'd ever be able to manipulate them the way he did me). The social worker never said who made the report or what it was about, but my dad made some inferences based on the questions asked. When I called him to ask if I could bring a friend over, he said no, assuming that my friend had made something up and reported him. I told him it was me, that there had been a mistake, that he wasn't in any trouble. I still wanted at that point to just get over it and have a normal relationship with him. But he got paranoid. He told me not to come over that week. Then he got a lawyer who, based on very little information, told him to cut off contact with me for a year. He refused to reconsider. He refused to arrange times I could come over to spend time with my friends when he wouldn't be there (that was the worst part, being cut off from my best friend).

I was freaked out. I started having really bad panic attacks. The kind where you can't stop crying, hyperventilate, and start shaking uncontrollably. The kind where you feel like you're going to die and worry that you'll be sent off to a mental hospital (a terrifying prospect to me). After about 6 months I began to realize I was better off without my dad. He was never a positive force in my life, even when he wasn't abusing me, and he had recently begun trying to kiss me on the mouth again. Ick. It was at the end of those 6 months that I finally told my mom and my brother about what he had done to me (there was no other way to explain why I had stopped visiting, and why I wouldn't be going for the winter solstice). I was still terrified of telling my mom. Thankfully, she was very supportive. My brother, not so much. He's gone back and forth between not believing me and not knowing what to think. (Why would I make up something like that? And he's never heard me lie about anything else, so why would I start now?)

A little over a year ago, I finally got real help. My mom agreed to help pay the high cost of therapy. We found a specialist in treating post-traumatic stress, and with a combination of EMDR and talk therapy, my panic attacks are rare now. My depression is pretty much gone, my anxiety is much more under control, and my life is a lot less screwed up. I finally understand that an 11 year-old is not capable of understanding the consequences of sexual activity, that it wasn't my fault, that it was my father's responsibility to protect me and to not do certain things with me, not my responsibility to know better at that age. There's a reason pre-teens aren't considered old enough to give informed consent. The abuse is still very upsetting to think about. I cried and felt sick while writing this post. I have a feeling that won't ever go away, but at least my life is my own again. I just wish my best friend and I were still as close as we used to be.

To anyone who read this, thank you for helping me break the silence. And thanks, Britni, for inspiring me to tell my story.

Grandpa

2009-07-04T13:05:00.000-07:00

Seeing my grandpa yesterday was hard. He's in a wheelchair now. He's having nighttime hallucinations, and at dinner he had a couple panics, which hasn't ever happened before. He panicked when he couldn't fit his legs under the table, and when we moved his feet off the supports so they would fit, he panicked because his feet had nothing under them. And when he clasped his hands together, he panicked because they were shaking too much to pull them apart himself. Each time his whole body would shake violently and he would yell.

It was hard to see him so scared and helpless, to see him unable to feed himself like he could just weeks ago, to see him unable to stand on his own. It was hard to hear him say that it gets worse every day, that he feels more and more helpless. He looked so thin. And he's forgetting more. He kept asking where I was (I was sitting three feet from him), when he meant my brother (who didn't come this time).

I'm glad Mike (that's my boyfriend) came with us. I know it was hard for him too, but he was very supportive. He knows what it's like.

Thankfully my grandpa's not in pain, and he still recognizes us. His birthday is on the 12th. He'll be 84. Not too shabby.

Singing

2009-07-01T01:24:00.000-07:00

If all goes well, and my cold finishes going away, this week I'll be attempting to teach myself how to throat sing. (if you follow the link, I recommend the song Duet)

Wish me luck!

Library Land

2009-06-26T01:06:00.000-07:00

I love my job. As I may or may not have previously mentioned, I work at the local public library. (No, I'm not a volunteer, I get paid to work there. And no, I'm not a librarian. You'd be surprised how many times I've encountered those assumptions.) I check in and shelve books (and movies, etc.), help people find things, occasionally issue library cards and do check out, and generally contribute to my community in a tangible way. And get paid (not very much) to do it. Also, I'm lucky enough to have job security and awesome coworkers with whom I can discuss books, movies, and music and make snarky, sarcastic remarks about the weird or annoying things that happen in our library.

We get plenty of weirdness in the library. The one-eyed man, for example. He pulled every single bible off the shelf, spread them out on a table, and proceed to sing at the top of his lungs. After being shushed by the head librarian, he came over to me and demanded I put his books away. This happened when I was still very new to the job, and not accustomed to the wide variety of people and strange behavior that are to be expected. More recently, an elderly woman, upset that she couldn't log on to a computer that had been reserved by someone else, walked up to one of my co-workers (I'll call him John*), and yelled, "Fuck you, Mrs. Hamilton!" She stormed out the door, stormed back in, and yelled it again, louder. I wonder who Mrs. Hamilton is?

This week's weird annoyances have been more tame, but more annoying. We had someone subbing for a sick shelver. She refused to do her job. At all. (this being a sub job she chose, that a number of other people were willing to do, one would think she meant to do the job she was covering) She didn't shelve a single thing all day. Shelving is the number one responsibility of the job she took. And everyone working at the library knows how to shelve (it's a requirement). We spent a whole week catching up from that little incident. Cue snarky commentary in the back room with my boss. And today we had a man grab "The Gay and Lesbian Guide to Parenting" off one of the display stands, shake it in my boss's face, yell, "Why the hell do you have this kind of crap here?!?", slam it down on the desk, and storm out. Sad face. Still, my boss, being the awesome future librarian that he is, put it right back on the display stand. And I quote, "I will not be intimidated." Apparently people keep taking it down from the display (heaven forbid gay people have families in our wealthy, "normal", mostly-white city!), and my boss keeps putting it back up.

Anyway, despite the weirdness, rudeness, annoyances, and just plain unpleasant people I encounter, I love working at the library. Those unexpected challenges keep things interesting, and seeing how much enjoyment our patrons get from it, especially the children, is very fulfilling. That's why I've stayed with it for nearly five years (a long time for a first job or a 21 year-old).

*Policy at my workplace requires that I don't share any personal information about my coworkers (or patrons), so any names will be changed, and I will be careful to limit the content to anecdotal things that happen to us in the library when I post about work, and not involve any personal details, no matter how casual, about anyone other than myself.

Fun Times

2009-06-17T22:00:00.000-07:00

Because I can, here's a photo of my boyfriend and me from a couple weeks ago. Isn't he cute?

Don't mind my big butt.

Random Update

2009-06-17T17:45:00.000-07:00

Blah. So it's been a while! Somehow when the semester ended I found myself almost as busy as I had been before. And then I bought a new computer, which delayed me even more. Woo! The computer is awesome though. Totally worth disrupting my life for a few weeks.

So, random stuff about what's been going on in my life these past weeks! I did really well in school. By really well, I mean that I took a magic, witchcraft, and religion anthropology class (fun!) and second term Arabic and Italian, making it my first full-time semester (last semester was just shy of full-time) and I got the first 4.0 of my life. I know it sounds like I'm bragging (okay, I kinda am), but this is a very big deal. Why? Because I'm a high school drop-out. And a college drop-out. And I haven't gotten grades like that since....ever. Maybe almost in 6th grade. And while I learned really well all through school and aced a lot of tests, it's hard to do homework and write papers when you're coming home to psychological and verbal (and for a few years, sexual) abuse. So my grades never looked too good, and they looked even worse in high school. And then senior year the psychological strain of my home life got so bad I couldn't deal with school stress on top of that, so I dropped out. A year later I tried community college, and again I dropped out.

Eventually I cut off contact with my dad (my abuser), which was hard to do, but it helped (another post on that later). And about a year and a half ago I finally got myself a therapist to deal with all that crap that had me flunking out of school and doing stupid things. Coming from all of that, it's a HUGE deal that I've successfully finished a year of school. And bigger yet that I maintained good grades the whole way through. I call this realization, "Holy Shit, I'm Taking Back My Life!!! GO ME!!!" I also don't always give myself enough credit, so I'm trying to remind myself that I'm awesome for fighting back and not giving up. :)

Okay, bit of a tangent there, but that's okay. In other news, I love my job these days, one of my friends got married (yay!), and my boyfriend is putting a lot of effort into our relationship lately, which I'm thrilled about. Lots of good things!

In less-awesome news, I have a cold. My brother has been driving me up the wall by saying really moronic, immature things and lecturing one of his friends about how he should just stop being depressed and having OCD (I really wish I made enough money to move out already!). And my grandpa's health is failing. He probably has a few months left. Finding that out took a lot of steam out of my will to blog for a while, but I think I'm handling it fairly well now. Mostly. It's still hard to think about losing him at some indeterminate time in the next 6-ish months. But, I'm visiting him every week or two (and feeling lucky that he's only an hour and twenty minutes away). Though I'm also seeing how much he deteriorates between visits, and it's painfully obvious that he hasn't got long left and that his quality of life isn't too high. His body's weak and he's forgetting almost everything except immediate family (which could happen later), and it's clear he's very frustrated by it. It will be a relief for him, and for my grandma and uncle who are taking care of him, when he's finally at peace. But it's still hard to let him go. I've never had anyone close to me die, and he's the closest thing I have to fatherly affection. *sigh*

Anywho, just taking it as it comes. I joined a pagan women's circle with my mom and one of my close friends, and that has become a good support system for me. And for my mom. She's having a much harder time of this than I am (this being my maternal grandpa...I don't have relatives on the paternal side).

Sorry about the length and long-windedness of this post! I'll be a little surprised if anyone actually reads this whole thing, but I figured I should just throw myself back out there and write what's on my mind. Trying to get back into blogging regularly, it's a good outlet.

Love!

When I should be working, I do this.

2009-05-19T00:35:00.000-07:00

In the spirit of procrastinating on my anthropology paper, here are some photos of me. This is my hair now as it enters what I call Awkward Stage 2, also known as growing out my hair after shaving my head. As you can see, my hair isn't quite sure what to do with itself.

And for good measure, this is me with my head shaved, June 2008.

I'm the one on the left (I hope that's obvious). The guy is my boyfriend, who was awesome enough to stick with me and support me and not judge my baldness. Some people did judge. I got a couple cancer kid comments and dirty looks. (What if I did have cancer? Suddenly it's not funny anymore) One friend called me E. T.. Still, I loved being bald. I miss it sometimes.

I have about a year of growth now, minus a couple trims and haircuts. I'm cutting my hair as infrequently as I can get away with and not look terrible because I want to grow my hair out long. Really long. Long like I used to have it before I turned 18, when I went years without a haircut. Like this:

It was long enough to sit on at one point. I don't want it quite that long, but somewhere near my hips would be nice. I've enjoyed the last 3+ years of short hair, but I'm ready to have it long and flowing again. I give myself about 5 years to grow it out, maybe less. I think I'll keep track of my progress here to help keep me motivated.

That last photo shows my natural color (at the top, not the sun-lightened bottom half) before I started using henna to dye my hair red. The indoor photos don't do the henna justice, so here's a good outdoor one, pre-head-shave.

I'm still adjusting to being a redhead, but I'm enjoying it so far. I think I'll stick with the henna for a few years at least. Considering my pale, freckled skin and green/hazel eyes, I think it almost looks natural. :)

Okay, I think that's enough procrastinating.

Happy...

2009-05-18T10:28:00.000-07:00

Happy anniversary to my boyfriend and me! (it was yesterday, actually, and his name is Mike) We've been through a lot of crap and rough times, including a breakup at one point, but we've made it through and built a stronger relationship. I'm really happy with where we're at now, and I feel very optimistic at having reached our first anniversary feeling very much in love.

Go us!

Pedestal

2009-05-16T13:49:00.000-07:00

Reader SunflowerP made a comment on my last post that made me think, in response to my question "What am I missing?" regarding double standards on gender and violence:

"As for what you're missing - only the pedestal, and I for one won't miss it when it's gone (not will I miss it with the sledgehammer). Durn thing's like high heels, I keep falling off."

That, coupled with a lot of discussion lately about what it means to be a feminist, made me ask myself, what does the word feminism mean to me?

I call myself a feminist, but I realize there are a lot of ideas floating around under that name, and some of them fly directly in the face of what I consider feminism to be. When my boyfriend first heard me using the word feminism, he thought I meant militant man-hating, which is not what I'm about at all. So, I guess this calls for an explaination of what I think feminism does mean.

Maybe it would be better to say that I'm pro-gender-equality, because that's at the core of my definition of feminism. The idea being that women should be treated as human beings with inherent value equal to that of men. More to the point, I think all people should be treated as human beings deserving of equal rights. As terrible as it is how women have been treated throughout most of history, I don't think it's any better to turn it around to treated men as inferior objects. I also think men shouldn't be forced to stay inside the box of "what men are like" because, as Figleaf has said, "for all our ostensible lordly privileges of gender it still amounts to life in a somewhat nicer cage than everyone else gets." And a nicer cage is still a cage.

Feminism to me means nobody should have to be in a cage, even the nice cage. The reason for the specific focus on women is because women still have the shorter end of the stick, but the main idea is equal worth, rights, and human-being-ness no matter what gender.

This idea ties in with my pagan beliefs as well. I view male and female as two side of the same coin, masculine and feminine being complementary energies that both reside in everyone in a beautiful balance that is unique to each person. Therefore masculinity isn't limited to men, and femininity isn't limited to women. People are people, and their physical gender shouldn't confine them to a gender box. That is not to say that people shouldn't embody traits that traditionally match their gender if those traits express who they really are.

Now, let's bring back the pedestal idea that SunflowerP brought up. The pedestal sucks, to put it plainly. The pedestal that says don't hit women (because they're women, not because they're people) isn't a whole lot better than the pedestal that says women are delicate flowers who shouldn't "debase" themselves with dirty work like fixing cars or "strain" themselves by pursuing math or science. (Yes, not hitting women is wonderful, but the idea behind it misses the mark by a lot...it's not that women are delicate flowers who can't defend themselves, it's that people shouldn't be subject to violence. Don't hit people, including women.) And though that pedestal is a nicer cage than being treated like property, it's still a cage (and still sometimes involves being treated like property).

Feminism means gender equality to me. Proponents of female superiority/male-bashing (which I view as no better than male chauvinism) I will refer to as femi-nazis.

Thoughts on gender and Violence

2009-05-03T15:23:00.000-07:00

So, looks like I haven't been updating this thing regularly like I planned. I think that will change once the semester ends in a few weeks. School has me incredibly busy! Anywho, on to what I wanted to write about.

Last night I was a party for a friend's birthday, and I got talking with a couple people I didn't really know. They were pretty cool, but there was one topic that really bugged me. More like their opinions on the topic bugged me. This girl, Jen, was talking about how she beat the crap out of a guy on two different occasions, once because he kicked her, once because he punched her. This was to demonstrate what an asshole the guy in question was (he does sound like an asshole, but I think what she did was overkill). Then a guy named Alex started talking about how it's not okay for men to hit women, ever.

Now the part that bugged me: I said that it was okay for a man to hit a woman in self-defense. If someone is trying to kill or maim you, you can defend yourself however you need to, in my opinion. But Alex disagreed. He said even in life-or-death situations or when a woman is beating on a guy for no reason, it's never okay to hit back to defend yourself if you're a guy. He said restrain her or run away (running is a good option...when it's an option).

But what about extenuating circumstances? I am, of course, completely against violence toward women. But then, I'm against violence toward anybody (happily that statement made them stop and think). What bothered me was the idea that respecting/not hitting women trumps self-preservation in a dire situation, the idea that violence toward men is okay, and the idea that men are not allowed to defend themselves against said violence if the attacker happens to be female. Did I miss something here?

I don't mean to trivialize violence toward women, which is a very widespread and serious problem. However, women aren't the only victims of violence. I consider myself a feminist, and as such believe that women should be treated with respect. But I don't believe that women should be elevated to a status above men that allows men to be treated like garbage. As a feminist, I believe all people should be treated as human beings, and therefore worthy of respect.

The very well-spoken Figleaf wrote a very interesting post here about pretty much the same idea I'm trying to get across, only worded better. Go read!

Introduction

2009-04-07T00:27:00.000-07:00

I suppose it's time for the obligatory introduction post. Yay!

I've spent a lot of time lurking on the interwebs, reading awesome blogs and lots of webcomics. I hadn't written anything myself because I didn't think I had enough time. Tonight I decided that if I can stay up late reading blogs and comics, I can stay up late writing what's on my mind. So, a bit about me:

My name is Eve. I'm a student at a community college in northern California (specifically the San Francisco bay area). I'm currently having fun studying Arabic and Italian instead of working on my GE requirements. I also work at the local library in my home town, which rocks! (the library, not my home town) I am not a librarian (that requires a master's degree in library science!), though I think I would enjoy it if I were. I'm a bit of a nerdy girl.

I'm pagan. For me that means earth-based spirituality with ideas borrowed from any religion or spiritual path that resonates with me. There will probably be a post about that later. I'm also bisexual. I know that doesn't matter to a lot of people, but it does find its way into my worldview. I'll probably write about that later too.

I feel very passionate about human rights. Racism, homophobia, sexism, and other prejudices piss me off. I have strong feelings about feminism, GLBTQ rights, sexuality, and our society's culture of rape and domestic violence acceptance and victim blame. I will definitely write about all of these topics.

Everything else aside, I'm just a person living my life. I will probably write about the ups and downs of school and work, my friendships, love life, and hobbies. There will be music.

I might write about something completely unrelated to anything I just mentioned. I don't know yet. And I'm sure my posts will illustrate who I am better than this introduction.

P.S. I like proper** grammar, punctuation, and spelling...but I also like to start sentences with the word "and." I write the way I speak, so even though I keep the aforementioned things in mind, I will intentionally deviate from them for the sake of communication sometimes.

**I predict a post about this too...considering I found it even worth mentioning...