Invisible ≠ Unworthy

A few months ago I wrote about something very vulnerable; sexual assault.  In the time since, Time magazine has named all of the whistleblower women, Person of the Year.  The shockwave of celebrities, politicians and CEO's who have been outed and dethroned has been almost unsurprising to watch unfold.  Of course these men are abusers of power.  Women knew it.  We all knew it.  This has been going on since the dawn of time.  The social construct of subservience by way of vagina was born with the first birth, bolstered by religious teachings and perpetuated by institutions.  

But this is not a post about misogyny. This is about feeling invisible.  Despite my own very personal experience of rape, I found myself minimizing it amidst the sea of female fists in the air rising up and saying, "Me too."  I am just one in a billion fists, therefore, not very significant and shut up about it already.  Societal messaging embalmed so deeply in my conscience, that I, am even shutting down my own voice.  

When I was very young, my parents were very young.  My brothers were very young.  For some reason, I felt as though I needed to be very old.  Indeed I was a very old soul and remain so today.  At 6 I dreamt of being 30, and at 37 I dream about being 90.  I remember changing diapers and doing dishes and worrying about having enough money for lunch that day.  I  would fret over asking for new shoes or jeans because mine were from Kmart and I simply couldn't stand another day hating myself.  But I knew what the answer would be and I didn't want to put my mother through the pain of having to say no so much.  I did ask, but I knew I'd have to settle for the cheaper things my heart wasn't after.  They were material asks, but it was worth I was looking for.  

I have struggled my entire 37 years to feel... seen.  To be really seen by someone who loves who I am despite my faults, fears and acne scars.  I was born with a German nose, terrible cystic acne, early breast development and a chubby round belly.  As if my shame of poverty wasn't enough, I also felt heinously ugly and fat by the 7th grade. When I turned 30, I decided that my body is what it is, and I could spend the rest of my life hating myself, or I could just learn to love the skin I was in.  The day of my 30th birthday, I felt no one could ruin it.  I was on cloud 9 and I didn't care what anyone thought or said.  I felt like I had finally come into my own.  That night, two friends and I dabbled along Bourbon St. in New Orleans.  I chose a gay bar where I got to judge a strip contest that my drunk friend decided to enter and make a complete ass of herself.  I still was delighted to be alive.  A gay gentleman danced with me and told me that I should wear more flattering dresses, and then I'd be adorable.  I couldn't be happier.  My drunk friend picked a fight with me and demanded to follow a tweaker around all night then blamed me for a horrible evening.  I still went home feeling alive for the first time.  For a while that feeling stayed with me.  

But as time has pressed on, despite my best efforts at self-help, years of therapy, 2.5 years of sobriety working a hard 12 step program, I remain; unchosen (by a man), unseen and terribly lonely.  Don't get me wrong, I've had moments of clarity where indeed I choose myself.  I have built the best life I know how where it is full of fun, laughter, wonderful friendships, travel and more hobbies than I have time for.  I outsource my most unbearable chores, work hard at my job and buy almost anything I need.  I want for nothing material.  However, inside I still feel like that kid who doesn't necessarily need LA Gears or Guess jeans; what I need is to be told I'm beautiful anyway.  That I can make Pro-Wings so cool the girls would be jealous.  I don't think I ever really knew what I was worth; because it certainly wasn't a pair of jeans.  

When I was assaulted at age 15, I had no one to tell.  No allies that I trusted and no sense of safe place to land.  This isn't about bashing my parents or their lack of tools available to them at the time; this is about finding out who I am in spite of that.  Today, I struggle so deeply with feeling loved and valued.  Every micromanaging boss, every man who doesn't seem interested, every lonely night I spend cuddling my tiny dog like she's my only friend; I feel... invisible.  Unloved.  Unworthy.  

Until recently, I believed that last one to be true.  Indeed, feeling unloved does not mean I am unworthy of love.  If I were the last human on earth, truly unloved by anyone, I would still be worthy of it.  The two are mutually exclusive.  I am worthy of being loved, because I am a child of the universe.  A purposefully created creature with a mind and a voice.  I was given hands and feet for good works and a brain sharp with wit and the intelligence of an autodidact.  Lately, I have been caregiving and running amok being of service to others.  In this space I am usually very happy and free.  Feeling useful and needed brings me immense joy.  Perhaps this is because, for a moment, I am not invisible.  Through the giving, I feel seen.  

Like so many other nights in my life, I lay crying, depleted.  Alone and cold on a blustery December night so near Christmas; I cry because my heart is just broken.  I still struggle with worthiness, and because of that I settle for boys who pay no mind, I dye my hair blue and yet obsessively wear camouflage  as if to say "Look at me!" but "I'll still remain invisible; here I'll do it for you."  I pray to a higher power that usually makes me feel loved and comforted and generally it's enough.  I have been blessed with so much I don't deserve and yet my soul is restless for change; for more.  I think the yearning has more to do with being able to stand in my own body and say, "Look at me. I am worthy."  Until that day, I remain in struggle and conflict with my own face; my own internal battle with acceptance.  

May you find your own worthiness, and feel loved and seen this winter holiday season.  

It's Not Your Fault

When you're a teenage girl and you're growing up with the advent of the internet, and you don't have any experience with boundaries around dating, you might find yourself in trouble.  I didn't know what I was worth, or if boys even liked me, or if I was a goblin with a big nose and should take what I could get.  I didn't know if I was a rather fetching young lass or if my early developed breasts were all boys wanted.  I didn't know that none of these things mattered, and that I absolutely was worth respect and deserved to be treated nicely by boys.  I thought if I said No, they wouldn't like me and there would go my chance at love.  I cringe to even type that today.  

There was a viral post going around the internet today encouraging women to speak up and claim, "Me Too", in regards to being a victim of sexual assault.  If millions of women stood up at the same time around the world and held their fist up in the sky, would it darken the sun?  I sure hope not, but sadly that image seems possible.  

I didn't learn what feminism really was until I was 21.  I didn't have language for what had happened to me over and over again until I read my friend's Women's Studies books while I was hiding out on their college couch at UCLA having just escaped an abusive situation. I didn't have any way to relate what I had experienced and believed that indeed I was a piece of garbage and that man was the best I was going to get.  

Years later, I have made so many strides in other areas of my mental health, self-esteem, and self-confidence that I couldn't escape the continuing pattern of inappropriate men I have chosen to date.  The abuse hasn't continued but I still can't seem to shake this idea that I should just take what I can get.  That isn't to say these men aren't appropriate for someone else, but rather that I seem to settle for that which I really do not want.  

When I was 15 and 17, I was raped by two different men.  There have been countless sexual harassment episodes since; too many to even remember or count.  I am probably sexually harassed at least once a week.  I've become so numb to it that I can't internalize it anymore.  I actually get annoyed at women who claim that every room has misogynists in it and cannot deal.  I get annoyed at women who are angry all the time and fight against every holler, every comment, every slander and every compliment.  I also recognize that by my ignoring it all and allowing it, and flirting and waving off the boys will be boys, I am only enabling and encouraging and failing to recognize the ongoing damage.  I am failing to deal with my own trauma.  Perhaps my own trauma has been too much for me to bear until now.  

All these years I have just owned the incidents as my fault.  It seemed easier at the time to lay claim to the surrounding circumstances than to announce to the world that I had entered into a sexual situation and was then violated.  It turns out that being a victim of circumstance might have been a shorter healing process than being held prisoner by my own guilt.  Perhaps my experience will help another woman have the courage to come out and say what happened to her regardless of the immediate consequences.  

The first time I was raped at 15, I was also drunk for the first time.  It turns out that later I would be an alcoholic, and that night I found my first solution to my first consequence to my solution.  In other words, alcohol made me feel alive and confident, which also landed me in the lap of a cute boy, who ended up raping me, but at least I was drunk and didn't really feel any of it or know what was happening entirely.  I did not feel I was able to tell my parents at the time that a) I lost my virginity (but did I?) and b) I was wasted at a party with no parental supervision.  My father yelled at me when I called and asked him to pick me up because it was 2 a.m. and I was supposed to be at a friend's house.  I couldn't deal with any of it.  So I got angry.  I stomped around high school with my hood over my head, combat boots and a hippie skirt and just played Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young's album "So Far" on repeat through my sophomore and junior year.  I protected my best friends from boys who harassed them.  I yelled at women at concerts who blocked my view and screamed obscenities at them.  I did drugs.  This was what coping looked like.  

Later I dated meth addicts and hardened criminals who cheated on me repeatedly and gave me double kidney infections.  I dated emotionally unavailable men.  I dated alcoholics with no jobs or cars or homes.  I am so tired of feeling like I am not worthy of someone worthy because I never end up with someone worthy.  

Slowly, over the last few years, I have begun to learn that I am worthy because I am alive.  I am learning that my worth does not lie in the man I am with, but from within.  It is through spiritual healing and growth, that I am able to walk this path without drinking or using drugs.  I suppose my coping strategies got me through the years without completely losing it.  My coping tools today are to look at it squarely in the face and say, ok, what happened here and how can I unravel this messaging I've acquired from society, my parents and myself?  

It's not my fault.  It's not your fault.  I believe you.

https://www.rainn.org/

   

Summer of Love

This summer has been one for the books.

I started the summer here at Pine Grove, with two of my closest friends.  No matter where we three go, we laugh till we cry and pee our pants.   And now, this late summer weekend in September, I am staying in a cabin at Pine Grove again, awaiting the masses that will come to hopefully experience a campout that is both fun and memorable.  I'm so excited to have come full circle, in a place that has already made a huge impact on my life, and one that I feel will continue to for a long time.

Pine Grove Resort #6.  My magical home for the weekend.

This summer has been filled with belly laughter, camping trips, concerts, roller skating, love and travel.  There has also been gut-wrenching heartache, soul-searching lessons, tears of sadness, triumph in self acceptance and finally, total surrender.  I have learned the difference between physical sobriety, and emotional sobriety.

"Keep your face always toward the sunshine - and shadows will fall behind you" ~ Walt Whitman

The peak moment where all of these emotions culminated in one cauldron of soup was around the lunar eclipse in late August.  It was a solid two weeks of just watery emotion that didn't make sense, felt very heavy and yet I somehow managed to stay out of bed.  I had already been at the gallows begging for mercy just one month before so I guess I felt I could still pull up my big girl boots and trudge through the thick cosmic air.  Perhaps, watery times are my jam.

I am a Pisces.  I am a dichotomous woman who goes with the flow while equally swimming upstream.  I very easily fill the space of my surroundings like water and instantly lose myself in the moment of who I am with.  This trait has left me heartbroken and confused more times than I would like to count, and this summer was no exception.  I found myself on the painful end of losing several trusted friendships when I didn't see it coming.  These friends seemed to have my best interest at heart yet left me feeling totally empty, destroyed and betrayed.

This experience of loss in friendships made me question myself more than anything.  I suddenly didn't trust my own judgment of character which had always been reliable as old faithful.  I usually know who you are the moment we meet.  When I look back now, my first instincts were correct.  However I prefer to focus on everyone's good qualities, and ignore the faults.  This season has been more about learning to believe in myself, rather than judging others' character.  I have learned to love myself through radical self-acceptance as a result of rejection from others.

"In a society that profits from your self doubt, 

liking yourself is a rebellious act". 

~ Caroline Caldwell

This summer I also fell in love.  It had been 3 years since I last gave my heart to someone.  I was certain that this time I was choosing different, therefore it would work out.  He seemed to have everything I wanted and yet, I was blindsided by a sudden and random end.  I simply couldn't understand it, or let it go.  This experience taught me that I have to learn my true worth or I will repeat this vile experience again and again like I have my whole life.  I have always chosen men who weren't really available for what I need.  And sometimes they leave before I realize it, because they realize it first.  

I don't know what hurts more; the heartbreak of a lesser man leaving you, or realizing that you're heartbroken over a lesser man.

These emotional ups and downs of the summer cracked me wide open.  Desperate and vulnerable, I went on a truth seeking mission to figure out what my problem was (because let's face it, when people keep leaving you, the common denominator is YOU).  I discovered that just because I stopped using drugs and drinking, my coping skills with relationships still needed some sobriety.  For me, self knowledge often affects change. At least, I become willing to change once the truth is witnessed.  

Hitting an emotional bottom brought me to my knees.  I could no longer tolerate the self-pity, shame and self-flagellation; I had to surrender any ideas I had about who I am or what I want for my life.  I still struggle with the post-WWII concept of success imprinted upon me by my parents.  As a modern, single woman living in an urban environment for over a decade, I always find my ideals at odds.  Today, I have decided to put everything I want or believe in, on trial.  

But I am not the final judge.  In the act of surrendering the chaos of my watery brain to the greater universe; my life has launched into an 80 mph thrill ride of service, surprises and pure joy.  The joy has come from getting out of my own way.  

When I decided to give up any expectations, I was relieved of disappointment.   

The more that I am other-centered, I find that everything I am responsible for happens magically.  My life simply just works out.  As soon as I decided to throw myself into being available for women in need, and putting my talents to good use for many in my immediate community, I was handed the love I was looking for.  It didn't exactly show up in the form I would have expected but it is exactly what I need.  

Today, I put my higher power at the center of my life, and my life becomes about altruism and my higher power.  I used to get completely knocked off my spiritual game when a man was in my life because he would become my higher power.  When you make another human responsible for all of your well-being you only get disappointed and hurt.  I was forced to find a way to be ok alone before I could allow relationships to flourish organically and without so much pressure to fill my God-shaped hole.  Today, I am keen to keep that spiritual path at the center of my purview.  Magically, I go to bed every night feeling loved, satiated and secure in myself.  I need or want for nothing.  I have more than I ever could deserve.  It is only my honest joy to give it back.  

"It is in the giving, that we receive" ~ St. Francis Prayer

I have no idea what the future holds, in love or in life, but I do know that right here right now, is all that matters.  As I begin to put this epic campout weekend to rest, I am beyond grateful for the opportunity to put this newfound emotional sobriety to test.  The response from this weekend has made my heart so full; bursting in fact, with love, peace, joy, gratitude and serenity for the massive connection made up here.  In getting out of my own way and just showing up where I felt called, people were able to step up and serve in their own way too.  As a Type-A Perfectionist, it is not my normal instinct to allow others to show up authentically.  This is the miracle I experienced this weekend, no doubt as a result of the lessons I learned over the summer and in the last 2.5 years of sobriety.  

Peeling back the onion layers of my soul has never been so painful, but pain breeds desperation and only in that space do we tap out and try something different.  I ran through my tool kit of coping skills and allowed my higher power to just take the wheel.  As evidenced by the results, I can assure you this method is way better than whatever my plans or designs might be.   

The real beauty of not being numb all the time, is that I get to experience all of life's emotions, not just the deeply sad ones or the inebriated ones.  The joy of sobriety and service is way more powerful than any drug or drink I've ever taken.  The power of being useful in the world creates a new sense of confidence and ease I have never experienced before. Experiencing true joy and contentment is a gift I cherish so deeply, and for that, I am eternally grateful.  

~*~       shine on you crazy diamonds       ~*~

Freedom from Bondage

I've spent a lot of time lately thinking about expectations, hope, future-trippin', self-will, and finally acceptance. The state of the world, the country, the government, the police-state, the nation's healthcare and basic human needs remaining unmet (see: housing crisis) has me wanting to control something. If I just moved to the mesa in New Mexico and built me an Earthship, everything would be right. If I just hurry up and get married, have babies and start a life with my partner, everything would be perfect.

If I just... If I just...

Restlessness is a beast of a burden and immensely uncomfortable because in my experience, restlessness left untreated with tools of a spiritual nature lead to escapism; self-medicating, self-destruction; wreckage. Let's face it, we live in a world that wants us to die, unless we're über-wealthy. And if you're blessed enough to be in that category, you're wealth only buys you freedom within a social construct designed to oppress others.

Escapism. I dream of lost, large open spaces where the only noise are the sounds of crows scavenging for mice. The simplicity of life and death is stripped down to it's most basic display and reminds me that death and birth are a continuing cycle. In the rat-race city life my own mortality is hung before me like a marionette on a stage made of bills, FICO scores and consumerist ads. Puppeteering not-so-behind-the-curtain are the wizards of corporate banking you can never seem to escape.

Freedom. All I want is freedom. Freedom from bondage of these racist, insufferable, illegal, repugnant and utterly demoralizing agendas under which many more than I are directly under it's thumb. I am fairly certain, that my late brother did not die so that my neighbors, friends, countrymates would be homeless, sick and dying with no healthcare, deported, and stripped of their basic human rights to travel freely about the country for which they stand. My brother did not die for this. My brother died for his brothers in arms. My brother died for his son. My brother died for his country, for which he swore a solemn oath to protect. That man in the hot seat in the big white house swore a similar oath, yet has only protected his own.

This is not a post about politics. This is a post about action. Sitting and stewing in anger, resentment, fear; is a choice I cannot afford. The action laid before me is one of passive action; the choice to lay it all down. I have no control over the past, or the future, but I can throw my hands up and be grateful, give thanks and help my fellows. I can make tiny ripples in a vast sea of humanity, if only touching those closest to me.  I can't, but a higher power can. Today, I will give up my self-will and honor my brother, my family, my friends and loved ones, with the surrender of all my controlling nature. Politics cycle and can incessantly fatigue ones sense of urgency to let go and let God. What's more, is that news these days cannot be trusted anyway, therefore the only trust I bestow is that in my closest loved ones, and a power greater than myself.  I surrender.  Throw in the towel. I have been broken enough over the course of my life, and today I choose to be in this moment, and love as much as I am able and serve those in need around me.

Evidence of past actions has proven this to be the most effective relief of restlessness because in the moment I am surrendering and trusting God, I am not in fear. And fear is the birthplace of all things destructive in my life. I choose a life of freedom on these terms. That, is what my brother died for.

I hope you find your own freedom too.

Sober Journey

Today, I have 2 years of continuous sobriety.  This is nothing short of a miracle.  Since the age of 15 I either smoked weed, drank like a sailor, took copious amounts of party drugs or I was ingesting psychedelics all while creating a long line of wreckage behind me.  I did not end up in the gutter, or homeless, or in jail, but I came real close.  After I went to rehab at age 17, I thought I had a pretty solid grip on my using with the tools I learned there.  I would always pride myself on "having my shit together" despite my reckless antics.  Compared to most of my friends, I did have my shit together.  I had a great job, my own apartment on Lake Merritt, a car and enough money to party with.  But by the end, I saw my life getting wobbly.  2 years ago, I was on a birthday bender that lasted 5 days with little to no sleep.  I was incapable of even dressing myself, and I was so looped I remember begging the guy I was with to just save me and take me away from here.  

In other words, I wanted to die.  

3 days after that bender wound down, I finally sought help.  Most people who get sober have a lot of wreckage to clean up.  I am so incredibly grateful that most of my wreckage was with myself.  As soon I made the decision to leave my self destructive ways at the door, my life got better.  And it continues to get better. In the last 2 years,  I have traveled to New Mexico, Arizona, LA, Disneyland, Wisconsin, Tennessee, and most recently, Iceland.  I have found a wonderful sober man to partner with in this crazy new journey.  In a few months I'll be travelling to Canada to witness an old friend get married.  When I was drinking and using, I was lucky to go camping once a summer.  I simply couldn't afford to take trips like this.  My boyfriend and I are planning much more international travel for the future, and I have no doubt we'll do it all!  

Rio Grande Gorge, NM

Sobriety isn't just about fancy vacations though.  For me, it's a multi-layered journey that unfolds a little bit at a time.  I work on myself in different areas at different times, and each new encounter I receive wisdom about how to be a better human, and learn how to be more authentically myself. This past year I started to see a glimpse of who I was before I started using drugs.  Back when I was a young teenager, still a bit innocent and before I got really angsty, there was a girl in there who loved Black & White films, standards and jazz, playing musical instruments, writing, and reading.  That last one has hit me hard this year.  I have read 5 books alone just in the last three months!  I remembered that I was intelligent, full of promise and capable of doing anything I wanted if I just put the work in. 

Sobriety today means that those possibilities are still true.  I no longer beat myself up about the things I never accomplished.  I relish in the fact that anything is still possible.  I have confidence that I can do anything I want.  I have faith that through prayer and meditation I will walk the path that is meant for me.  Best of all, I love myself today.  I have hope, that others close to me who are still suffering will find the solution for their lives as well.  

Coronado National Forest, AZ

No one really wants to admit they are an alcoholic or an addict.  There is a strong stigma attached to that label, especially for those who come from Christian backgrounds.  I felt judged and ostracized from my youth group leaders back when I went to rehab at 17.  I didn't feel comfortable talking to them about my problems because they didn't align with the teachings of the church.  This colored my spirituality permanently.  Today I can understand why I felt judged because it's really hard to understand why people poison themselves despite knowing the consequences.  Addiction is a disease.  A DIS - EASE of the body and an obsession of the mind.  Through a new found spiritual practice and by working a solid program I can safely say that anyone can recover from addiction, despite the crippling shame and judgment from others.  I am living proof.  

Djupavogshreppur, Eastern Iceland Fjords

There is hope, there is a solution and there is kindness, joy and laughter outside of the "party".  It's really easy to believe that life will not be as fun without drugs and alcohol, but I can assure you, what I was doing was not fun compared the real joy I get to experience today.  Hangovers? Crippling shame and self-hate? ... yeah, real fun.  The thing is, we use drugs and alcohol to numb pain.  Whatever it is that's plaguing us about living life on life's terms seems only to be relieved through self medicating.  However, self medicating doesn't just numb pain - it also numbs joy.  What we might feel as representing extreme fun or that shot of adrenaline or seratonin, is quite fleeting and only drops us into a deeper hole upon the come-down; causing us to need more and more substances to experience that same high.  And on the merry-go-round we go; over and over until drugs stop working, at which point, most people either get help, or die trying.  

Today I have money in the bank, pride in my work, great relationships with friends and family, and a chronic illness that causes fatigue and pain daily but I don't have to drink over it.  I care for myself today, and most importantly, I get to be a useful and caring human being for others in the way they cared for me when I was new to sobriety.  

I am so incredibly grateful to be alive today and not want to die.  I am so blessed that the loving members of my family and community have shown me what trust, faith and real love can look like.  Today, I am happy, joyous and free.  

Glacier Lagoon, Eastern Iceland