tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-48190609668290141392024-03-18T23:59:11.445-05:00Who I Am Without YouSarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01007257169361470843noreply@blogger.comBlogger106125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4819060966829014139.post-64361191857214309132013-09-19T19:28:00.000-05:002013-09-19T19:28:33.647-05:00Talking About It
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Talking about it is hard. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Whenever you make new friends there inevitably comes that
moment where you have to tell them. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Maybe not right away, maybe its like a few months in. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">But eventually you have to say yeah… my childhood wasn’t
actually perfect.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“they were really religious… they homeschooled me k-12.” <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">But you seem so normal!<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“yeah I have 10 siblings.. no we’re not catholic…” <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I could never do that! Your mum must be a
saint!<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“no I will never have that many kids. No I don’t plan to
homeschool. No it wasn’t a good experience.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">You sit there feeling like a freak show. Everybody’s gawking
because they’ve never even heard of such things. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Surely you must be exaggerating?! </i>But in reality you’re dumbing it
down, polishing the edges. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And in the back of your mind is the old family mantra
hissing <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">“You are so selfish. Telling
tales for attention. People are going to think bad things about the family!
Where is your loyalty?!” <o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">They all shake their heads in wonderment. C<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ourtship? Isn’t that another word for dating?
</i>You are monopolizing the conversation now. But they won’t let you stop.
They have so many questions. You’re like a space alien telling stories about
your exotic and barbaric planet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">You mentally sweep the years of violence and neglect and
manipulation into a neat little dustpan and name it: “It wasn’t really a
healthy environment.” And people infer what they want, and you move on. And
eventually someone changes the subject and you sit there feeling embarrassed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">You wonder if your cheeks have turned red. Did you say too
much? “<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">You always say too much!” </b>You
smile and engage in the rest of the conversation. And then you go home and
aggressively wash the dishes, fighting back your rising anxiety.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Eventually you find yourself in bed with a pillow over your
face.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Trying to slow your breathing. Trying to fall asleep.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Its been ages. It should be so hard to talk about.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01007257169361470843noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4819060966829014139.post-43532592001600617352013-07-26T10:57:00.002-05:002018-09-11T16:22:55.911-05:00Longing<div style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; -webkit-text-stroke-color: transparent; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 1px; border: 0px; color: #3c3b36; font-family: Helvetica, Arial; font-size: 14px; line-height: 23px; margin-top: 5px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 5px; text-shadow: rgb(255, 255, 255) 1px 1px 1px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1QjKpA-G2dOOXCyDoG9DZX-lj-ds0iHNIUpyYCwONJDphGGLFj6ya7isZXCCju4N2l9bp2FhYdktUV0-DuGIk6wMK36DRQUpfepLsPbSCLDlWj8GuLKCZc75uA8JPposX9i8T8UOaK5iL/s1600/tumblr_mqju86jHVS1rpp376o1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span id="goog_383330720"></span><span id="goog_383330721"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; -webkit-text-stroke-color: transparent; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 1px; border: 0px; color: #3c3b36; font-family: Helvetica, Arial; font-size: 14px; line-height: 23px; margin-top: 5px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 5px; text-shadow: rgb(255, 255, 255) 1px 1px 1px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I am intimately familiar with the feeling called <em style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">longing</em></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Intense, sharp, caustic need</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">the kind that chews a hole inside your chest</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">like a shot of novocain, a burn and a sting</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; -webkit-text-stroke-color: transparent; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 1px; border: 0px; color: #3c3b36; font-family: Helvetica, Arial; font-size: 14px; line-height: 23px; margin-top: 5px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 5px; text-shadow: rgb(255, 255, 255) 1px 1px 1px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I only ever <em style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">longed</em> for freedom</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">burning my hands over a steaming pot</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">the future stretching out before me</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">strangled by the sameness and monotony</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; -webkit-text-stroke-color: transparent; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 1px; border: 0px; color: #3c3b36; font-family: Helvetica, Arial; font-size: 14px; line-height: 23px; margin-top: 5px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 5px; text-shadow: rgb(255, 255, 255) 1px 1px 1px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><em style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">longing</em> like bile in my throat</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">gagging, choking, my stomach in knots</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">fight or flight, but i could do neither</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">twelve years old and living in my own coffin</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; -webkit-text-stroke-color: transparent; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 1px; border: 0px; color: #3c3b36; font-family: Helvetica, Arial; font-size: 14px; line-height: 23px; margin-top: 5px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 5px; text-shadow: rgb(255, 255, 255) 1px 1px 1px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">need is dangerous</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">if you acknowledge it, it demands to be satisfied</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">and when you can’t deliver</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><em style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">longing</em> will tear.you.apart.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; -webkit-text-stroke-color: transparent; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 1px; border: 0px; color: #3c3b36; font-family: Helvetica, Arial; font-size: 14px; line-height: 23px; margin-top: 5px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 5px; text-shadow: rgb(255, 255, 255) 1px 1px 1px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">with sharp, curved claws</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><em style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">longing </em>tore it’s way through my lungs</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">i stopped breathing for 6 years</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">those talons tore divots in my baby skin</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; -webkit-text-stroke-color: transparent; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 1px; border: 0px; color: #3c3b36; font-family: Helvetica, Arial; font-size: 14px; line-height: 23px; margin-top: 5px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 5px; text-shadow: rgb(255, 255, 255) 1px 1px 1px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I chased after freedom even as my lips were turning blue</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">flat on my belly, crawling with my fingernails</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">this <em style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">longing</em> is brutal</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">it will kill you before it will be ignored</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; -webkit-text-stroke-color: transparent; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 1px; border: 0px; color: #3c3b36; font-family: Helvetica, Arial; font-size: 14px; line-height: 23px; margin-top: 5px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 5px; text-shadow: rgb(255, 255, 255) 1px 1px 1px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">every year i <em style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">long</em> for Fall</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">every fall i’d turn one year closer to freedom</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">it was fall when I broke away and started running</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">fall is a clean cold slate against fevered skin</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; -webkit-text-stroke-color: transparent; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 1px; border: 0px; color: #3c3b36; font-family: Helvetica, Arial; font-size: 14px; line-height: 23px; margin-top: 5px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 5px; text-shadow: rgb(255, 255, 255) 1px 1px 1px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">the <em style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">longing</em> for freedom is part of being human</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">it’s right beneath your skin</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">a hungry monster you will never escape</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I’d advise you to embrace it before it eats you alive</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; -webkit-text-stroke-color: transparent; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 1px; border: 0px; color: #3c3b36; font-family: Helvetica, Arial; font-size: 14px; line-height: 23px; margin-top: 5px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 5px; text-shadow: rgb(255, 255, 255) 1px 1px 1px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; -webkit-text-stroke-color: transparent; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 1px; border: 0px; color: #3c3b36; font-family: Helvetica, Arial; font-size: 14px; line-height: 23px; margin-top: 5px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 5px; text-shadow: rgb(255, 255, 255) 1px 1px 1px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">(originally published on my <a href="http://seventyfivecentstoyourdollar.tumblr.com/post/56522769754/longing">Tumblr</a>)</span></div>
</div>
Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01007257169361470843noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4819060966829014139.post-24433589093268641822013-07-19T13:34:00.000-05:002013-07-19T13:43:22.052-05:00Progress: As Seen In My Morning Routine <div class="MsoNormal">
I wake up.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My room is a little bit messy. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
I have learned that there is no
need to berate myself for not folding my socks before they go into the drawer.
Skipping laundry day does not make me a bad person.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I stumble into the bathroom wearing boxers and a star wars
t-shirt.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
I am not obligated to wear sexy lingerie
and nightgowns to bed. I am not obligated to wear underwear designed for women.
I am only obligated to wear what makes me feel comfortable.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I brush my teeth and wash my face and I DON’T weigh myself.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
There is no scale in my bathroom. I
have learned that my health is measured by how I feel, and my worth isn’t
measured at all.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I rub styling paste into my short, boyish hair and stand it
straight up.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
My hair is not my crown of glory. My
hair is not a symbol of my relationship with a deity. My hair does not hide the
roundness of my face or accentuate my femininity. My hair is just hair. And it
makes me feel free and powerful and I think its sexy as hell. And that’s all
that matters.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I slap on a swatch of winged eyeliner.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
I don’t care what it “says” about
me. I just like how it makes my eyes look greener. It’s not for you. It’s for
me. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I get dressed.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
Dress pants from the men’s section
of Banana republic. A flattening sports bra. A button up, tucked in. A grey
cardigan. Wide, flat stud earrings. My clothes make me feel confident, and they
reflect me very accurately. I am masculine and feminine rolled into one. I am
me. I am different. And that’s okay.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I eat breakfast.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
Fruit and toast with almond spread.
I am a vegan. Respecting nature is important to me. This is a personal moral
decision, and it doesn’t mean that I am foolish, or arrogant like I was taught.
Living vegan makes me feel honest and compassionate, and that’s a good enough
reason.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I kiss my Hunnie goodbye on my way out the door.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
I’m off to work an 8 hour day. I
bring home the bacon, and that doesn’t make me less of a woman any more than it
makes him less of a man.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
On the way to work, I call to make an appointment with my
Doctor.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
I’m getting a hormonal birth control implant in my arm,
because I don’t want to get pregnant. Not now, maybe never, and that’s okay. My
value is not defined by my willingness or ability to give birth. My family is
not defined by how many children we have.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0unZb4q6UpmicBIu4gqIKEWaYoTkSVZF9NcN2ExY7lODtAMXlL4fNnyPZhyG-Ax4Vny9r3P4ZHOAqSYGvBuX_v4Xib9xI8KTm36O5f5fqZRGuY14tluKn-oaVq80aY-CsjF3mK0q45XvY/s1600/IMG_20130623_172109.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0unZb4q6UpmicBIu4gqIKEWaYoTkSVZF9NcN2ExY7lODtAMXlL4fNnyPZhyG-Ax4Vny9r3P4ZHOAqSYGvBuX_v4Xib9xI8KTm36O5f5fqZRGuY14tluKn-oaVq80aY-CsjF3mK0q45XvY/s320/IMG_20130623_172109.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Feminist, queer person, agnostic, vegan, student, nerd,
employee, blogger, singer, activist; these labels fit me, but they don’t define
me. I am Sarah, and I am more than the sum of my parts. I am free, and I am
finally learning what it means to be happy.</div>
Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01007257169361470843noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4819060966829014139.post-30782722242561491942013-07-16T17:00:00.000-05:002013-07-16T17:00:10.353-05:00My Journey: An Update<div class="MsoNormal">
I have been neglecting my blog.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But I promise, the reasons are mostly good. I have been
getting better. So much better. The suffocating blanket of uncertainty has
almost completely disappeared. So many of my fears have been replaced with
confidence and peace. I don’t feel so raw all the time anymore. I don’t always
feel the need to pour my emotions out on “paper” to get them out of my system. I
think I know who I am now. As an individual. And most days that means I feel
peaceful, and happy.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
None of things happened over night. And I’m sure I’ll change
and have new questions all over again. But for once, I am not afraid of the
future, because I finally trust myself to navigate it with authenticity. If I change,
I change, and that’s okay. Because human beings are fluid. We are meant to change
and grow, and rejecting that fact is unhealthy. P/QF folks will tell you that
there’s a solid, biblical answer for every question, and if you don’t get it
you need to try harder. But that kind of mindset removes us from our
consciences, and from the opportunity to change and grow, which is what makes
us human to begin with.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Letting go of belief in “right answers” is scary. <br />
Letting go of the walls that you were always told would protect you is terrifying.<br />
Letting go of the personality pajamas your parents swaddled you in at birth leaves
you feeling naked and without identity. <br />
Waking up in your twenties with no sense of self seems unbearable.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But I let go. And I started from scratch. And I trusted my
conscience, and as cheesy as it sounds, I trusted my heart. It’s been over 2
years now, of slowly putting myself together, piece by piece. This is not the
end of my journey. But I am happy to say that I know who I am <i>today</i>. I know what I want <i>today</i>. And that is more than enough for
me.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
I would love to talk more about my journey. I know how
helpful it was to hear stories like mine when I was first beginning my journey.
The tips and tricks and encouragements of others were invaluable to me. Please
feel free to email me, or leave a comment about what <i>you</i> need to hear about. What will help you on your journey? If I get
any responses I will write on those subjects.</div>
Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01007257169361470843noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4819060966829014139.post-20495017236659500952013-06-18T15:36:00.002-05:002013-06-18T15:36:26.733-05:00Self<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I am a member of the family<br />
I am a member of the housework crew <br />
I am my parent’s possession<br />
I am their trophy<br />
I am a representative for Christ<br />
I am a future mother in a future family preparing to serve a future husband</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I am not an individual.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Feelings are superfluous, needs are selfishness, I do not
know the vocabulary of <i>self</i>.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I am <s>depressed</s> overly dramatic<br />
I am <s>hungry</s> gluttonous<br />
I am <s>tired and overworked</s> lazy<br />
I am <s>sick</s> weak<br />
I <s>have anxiety</s> lack faith<br />
I <s>need affirmation</s> whine too much<br />
I <s>need privacy</s> am selfish<br />
I need to be <s>respected</s> punished</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I do not deserve to have needs. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So I take tweezers and tear a blade out of my father’s
razor. And I keep the razor in a tiny jewelry box that my grandma gave me,
under the cotton, because nobody can see it, because using it is selfish, and I
am ashamed. But nothing compares to the relief of sliding the blade across the
soft parts of my thighs, my calves, my ankles, my wrists.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Simultaneously punishing myself and expressing my hurt. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">People deserve love<br />
people deserve support<br />
people deserve respect<br />
But I don’t know these things<br />
<!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br />
<!--[endif]--></span></div>
<span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Because I
am not an individual<br />
I am not a person<br />
I do not know the vocabulary of <i>self</i>.<br />
<!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br />
<!--[endif]--></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 17px;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(I wrote this post as an entry for the Homeschoolers Anonymous blog. You can see the Original Post <a href="http://homeschoolersanonymous.wordpress.com/2013/06/11/self-sarah/">here</a>)</span></span>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01007257169361470843noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4819060966829014139.post-27845475054138593172013-05-24T09:25:00.003-05:002013-05-24T09:25:48.158-05:00Jerry Lewis Doesn't Want Women Debasing Themselves With Humor<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaCxAeXP7Zde3qg0CHvtk2SdRij4NwEIbP9B-LmMFhHo1RfZRAvazeGVUsEP_iDIINc9ksVQcO0-F4VwEj5hF0EqJLk-FBxD9ov1ZH_ZbhnX9HbdEiykEgZDqEykDXDVnmeManXoqMBcDA/s1600/034_dean_martin_and_jerry_lewis_theredlist.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaCxAeXP7Zde3qg0CHvtk2SdRij4NwEIbP9B-LmMFhHo1RfZRAvazeGVUsEP_iDIINc9ksVQcO0-F4VwEj5hF0EqJLk-FBxD9ov1ZH_ZbhnX9HbdEiykEgZDqEykDXDVnmeManXoqMBcDA/s320/034_dean_martin_and_jerry_lewis_theredlist.jpg" width="320" ya="true" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Renowned comedian and asshole Jerry Lewis recently reiterated his “distaste” for female comedians. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In case you missed it last time, Jerry famously said that it “bothers” him to “sit and watch a lady diminish her qualities to the lowest common denominator.” Most people take this to mean that Jerry is somehow blind to all the funny ladies in the world. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was listening to Chicago AM radio on my way to work this morning and the talk show hosts were discussing how senile Jerry must be to not notice all the good female comedians. They started listing all their favorites and repeated again and again how strange it is that Jerry doesn’t think women are funny. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Everybody is missing the point. Jerry never said that women are not funny; he said that women shouldn’t be trying to be funny in the first place. You see, Jerry still thinks that women should be seen and not hears. Jerry thinks women should be the butt of the joke, not the person telling it. Jerry doesn’t want to live in a world where women are free to speak openly, or be who they want to be. He doesn’t want to see us ladies “diminishing our qualities” by displaying personality and autonomy. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Jerry isn’t some sweet, doddering old man who’s just not paying attention to modern comedians. He is deliberately boycotting female comedians because he is ignorant and sexist. Poor Jerry, he misses the days when “quality” women were sweet and silent arm-candy that dreamed only of motherhood and marriage. It must be so hard for him to see women behaving like… oh I don’t know… human beings. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01007257169361470843noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4819060966829014139.post-1020480377779206592013-04-29T12:26:00.001-05:002013-04-29T12:26:40.005-05:00College<br />
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<div class="post_text_wrapper">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong>Things I have learned from the 3 years I’ve spent in college:</strong></span></div>
<div class="post_text_wrapper">
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong> </strong>Pulling an all-nighter is never worth it. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Nobody cares what you wear to class.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If you don’t get enough nutrition you grades will suffer.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Getting a B is okay.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The key to making a professor like you is to keep a low profile at first and then gradually become more engaged in class as the semester goes on. Your professor will feel like they drew you out of your shell. They’ll be really proud of themselves and totally love you for the rest of the year.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It’s okay to procrastinate, just make sure you read all the instructions for a project way ahead of time so you arent suprised by how much there is to do the night before</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Don’t sit by fun, social people in class, they’ll get you in trouble</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Keep a constant list of assignments on your phone so you never forget stuff</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Never ever ever share your homework with classmates</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Always sell your textbooks at the end of the semester</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Never start a new show on Netflix close to finals or midterms</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Limit drinking to one night a week, if you dont you WILL get fat</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Try to have some fun. You won’t be this young forever</span></li>
</ul>
</div>
<span id="goog_2014903816"></span><span id="goog_2014903814"></span><span id="goog_2014903812"></span><span id="goog_2014903810"></span><br />
<span id="goog_2014903807"></span><span id="goog_2014903805"></span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong>Things i still dont have answers for after 3 years in college:</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong></strong><ul>
<li>When you pass sombody in the hallway or on the sidewalk, is it weirder to make eye contact and smile or just completely ignore them?</li>
</ul>
</span></div>
Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01007257169361470843noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4819060966829014139.post-85849558040002740892013-04-21T13:43:00.001-05:002013-04-21T13:43:55.093-05:00Feminists Hate Men: The Ultimate Response<br />
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Feminists do not want you to lose custody of your children. The assumption that women are naturally better caregivers is part of patriarchy.</div>
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Feminists do not like commercials in which bumbling dads mess up the laundry and competent wives have to bustle in and fix it. The assumption that women are naturally better housekeepers is part of patriarchy.</div>
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Feminists do not want you to have to make alimony payments. Alimony is set up to combat the fact that women have been historically expected to prioritize domestic duties over professional goals, thus minimizing their earning potential if their "traditional" marriages end. The assumption that wives should make babies instead of money is part of patriarchy.</div>
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Feminists do not want anyone to get raped in prison. Permissiveness and jokes about prison rape are part of rape culture, which is part of patriarchy.</div>
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Feminists do not want anyone to be falsely accused of rape. False rape accusations discredit rape victims, which reinforces rape culture, which is part of patriarchy.</div>
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Feminists do not want you to be lonely and we do not hate "nice guys." The idea that certain people are inherently more valuable than other people because of superficial physical attributes is part of patriarchy.</div>
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Feminists do not want you to have to pay for dinner. We want the opportunity to achieve financial success on par with men in any field we choose (and are qualified for), and the fact that we currently don't is part of patriarchy. The idea that men should coddle and provide for women, and/or purchase their affections in romantic contexts, is condescending and damaging and part of patriarchy.</div>
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Feminists do not want you to be maimed or killed in industrial accidents, or toil in coal mines while we do cushy secretarial work and various yarn-themed activities. The fact that women have long been <a href="http://www.hartford-hwp.com/archives/45b/140.html" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #e21638; line-height: inherit; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">shut out</a> of dangerous industrial jobs (by men, by the way) is part of patriarchy.</div>
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Feminists do not want you to commit suicide. Any pressures and expectations that lower the quality of life of any gender are part of patriarchy. The fact that depression is characterized as an effeminate weakness, making men less likely to seek treatment, is part of patriarchy.</div>
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Feminists do not want you to be viewed with suspicion when you take your child to the park (men frequently insist that this is a serious issue, so I will take them at their word). The assumption that men are insatiable sexual animals, combined with the idea that it's unnatural for men to care for children, is part of patriarchy.</div>
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Feminists do not want you to be drafted and then die in a war while we stay home and iron stuff. The idea that women are too weak to fight or too delicate to function in a military setting is part of patriarchy.</div>
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Feminists do not want women to escape prosecution on legitimate domestic violence charges, nor do we want men to be ridiculed for being raped or abused. The idea that women are naturally gentle and compliant and that victimhood is inherently feminine is part of patriarchy.</div>
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Feminists hate patriarchy. We do not hate you.</div>
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Lindy West for <a href="http://jezebel.com/5992479/if-i-admit-that-hating-men-is-a-thing-will-you-stop-turning-it-into-a-self+fulfilling-prophecy">Jezabel</a></div>
Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01007257169361470843noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4819060966829014139.post-13960930442355894942013-04-11T11:33:00.000-05:002013-04-11T14:55:11.883-05:00I Do Not Belong To You<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I am a teenager. He is a stranger waiting next to me for the train. When he calls me “sexy” and tells me to smile, I blush as red as his baseball cap. “aww are you blushing, baby?” My stomach churns. I do not want his attention, but I cannot say no. I smile for him, hoping I look more bashful than scared. On the train I seek out a seat next to very large older woman and bite my lip to hold back the tears brought on by adrenaline and embarrassment. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">My smile does not belong to me.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You taught me this when you ordered me to smile for your friend who was over for dinner. I was 5. I didn’t like him, but you took me aside and told me to “smile and be nice” or I would have to sit alone in the other room. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I am 14 years old. He is my sparring partner in Martial Arts class. “I’m gonna punch you in the boob!” He laughs like it’s the funniest joke he ever heard. I am uncomfortable, but I don’t know what to say. He jabs at my right breast, like it’s a target, and pain blossoms across my chest. He laughs, his buddies laugh, and I laugh with them. I don’t want to be rude. “Do you need me to kiss it and make it better?” More laughter. I tell myself we’re all just kidding around, it’s just fine… everything is fine. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">My body does not belong to me and I do not have the right to decide what I think is funny. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">You taught me this when you let my cousin tickle me without my consent. I was 7 and he was 19. I screamed through the involuntary laughter and everybody just smiled and laughed along. When I finally got away I was angry. Hot tears sprung up in my eyes and shouted at him, at all of you, “I told you to stop!” You gripped my arm and pulled me aside. “Your cousin was just joking with you and you were very rude to him. Go apologize and give him a hug!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I am 19. He is my sexually aggressive co-worker. He traps me against the wall and whispers explicit things to me, hot breath against my neck. Sometimes he sneaks up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist, purposely pressing his body against mine. He grows bolder each day, and he never listens when I insist that he leave me alone. I never tell anyone, just befriend an older man who works with us, and hide near him when I’m feeling afraid. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">My sexuality belongs to the most powerful male-bodied person available. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">You taught me this when you bought me a purity ring at age 16 and made me promise that I would never let anyone touch me until you gave me away to a man on my wedding day. And all the times you ordered my brother to protect me, instead of teaching me to defend myself.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<o:p></o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;">You just wanted me to behave. You wanted me to obey the rules as children should. You didn’t known that children are just tiny adults. You couldn’t have foreseen that your words would shape the woman I would become. You never thought that I would carry the lessons meant for a five year old with me for the rest of my life. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">But I know now. And if I ever have a child I will remember that she does not belong to me. I will never force her to talk to my dinner guest, because I do not own her voice, or her smile, or her body, or her heart.</span></div>
Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01007257169361470843noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4819060966829014139.post-36530909064758383522013-04-02T17:32:00.001-05:002013-04-02T17:32:42.573-05:00Anxiety<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em>For me Anxiety comes in spurts. I'll be fine for a year and suddenly have the worst month of my life. I found this post </em></span><a href="http://brttaperry.tumblr.com/post/40579184920/how-to-decode-a-person-with-an-anxiety-disorder"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em>here </em></span></a><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em>on Tumblr describing and explaining anxiety. It's perfect and amazing and sooo accurate. I just had to share it with all of you.</em></span><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span><blockquote class="tr_bq">
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">things we (people with anxiety) are trying to do all the time:</span></span></div>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1. be safe</span></li>
</ul>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">things we can’t help but do all the time:</span></span></div>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1. second-guess ourselves</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">2. behave impulsively and reactively</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">3. take everything personally</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">4. worry</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">5. worry</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">6. worry</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">7. have difficulty accepting compliments</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">8. have difficulty reciprocating friendly gestures</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">9. have difficulty finding the courage to respond</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">10. have difficulty not being suspicious of others’ intentions</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">11. make a huge deal out of the smallest thing</span></li>
</ul>
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<span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">things you should keep in mind:</span></span></div>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1. we’re scared of everything</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">2. pretty much all of the time</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">3. it’s an actual disorder</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">4. it manifests as impulsive behavior</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">5. you can’t fix us with words</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">6. telling us “worrying is silly” won’t make us stop worrying</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">7. it’ll only make us feel silly</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">8. and then we’ll worry even more</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">9. <em><span style="color: #3c94b8;">“oh god, am i worrying too much? what if she calls me silly again?”</span></em></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">10. like that</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">11. also, we wear a lot of armor</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">12. cold, heavy, affection-proof armor with spikes</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">13. we constructed this armor as children</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">14. we’re fairly certain you will never be able to pry it apart</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">15. but there is a nice person under there, we promise</span></li>
</ul>
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<span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">things you can do for a friend with an anxiety disorder:</span></span></div>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1. stick around</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">2. ask him/her if they’re comfortable in a place or situation</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">3. be willing to change the place or situation if not</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">4. activities that help them take their mind off of things are good!</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">5. talk to them even when they might not talk back</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">6. (they’re probably too afraid to say the wrong thing)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">7. try not to take they’re reactions (or lack thereof) personally</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">8. (the way they expresses themselves are distorted and bent because of their constant fear)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">9. (and they knows this)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">10. give her time to respond to you</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">11. they will obsess over how she is being interpreted</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">12. they will anticipate being judged</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">13. it took me four hours just to type this much</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">14. even though i sound casual</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">15. that’s because i have an anxiety disorder</span></li>
</ul>
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<span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">things you shouldn’t do:</span></span></div>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1. tell us not to worry</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">2. tell us we’ll be fine</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">3. mistake praise for comfort</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">4. ask us if we are “getting help”</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">5. force us to be social</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">6. force us to do things that trigger us</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">7. “face your fears” doesn’t always work</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">8. because—remember—scared of everything</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">9. in fact, it would be more accurate to say we are scared of the fear itself</span></li>
</ul>
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<span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">emergency action procedure for panic attacks:</span></span></div>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1. be calm</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">2. be patient</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">3. don’t be condescending</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">4. remind us that we’re not crazy</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">5. sit with us</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">6. ask us to tighten and relax our muscles one by one</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">7. remind us that we are breathing</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">8. engage us in a discussion (if we can talk, then we can breathe)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">9. if we are having trouble breathing, try getting us to exhale slowly</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">10. or breathe through our nose</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">11. or have us put our hands on our stomach to feel each breath</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">12. ask us what needs to change in our environment in order for us to feel safe</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">13. help us change it</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">14. usually, just knowing that we have someone on our side willing to fight our scary monsters with us is enough to calm us down</span></li>
</ul>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span>if </span><em><span><span style="color: #3c94b8;">you</span></span></em><span> have an anxiety disorder:</span></span></div>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1. it’s okay.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">2. even if you worry that it’s not okay.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">3. it’s still okay. it’s okay to be scared. it’s okay to be scared of being scared.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">4. you are not crazy. you are not a freak.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">5. i know there’s a person under all that armor.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">6. and i know you feel isolated because of it.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">7. i won’t make you take it off.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">8. but know that you are not alone.</span></li>
</ul>
</blockquote>
</blockquote>
</span></blockquote>
</blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em>Seriously, if you know sombody with anxiety, follow these guidlines. If you have anxiety "I know there's a person under all that armor... I won't make you take it off, but know that you are not alone."</em></span>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01007257169361470843noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4819060966829014139.post-20254367098912255152013-03-22T14:22:00.000-05:002013-03-22T14:22:11.670-05:00Rape CultureThis just popped up on my Facebook news feed. It's just so ironic when someone proves the existence of rape culture while trying to claim that it doesn't exist...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmdEfMMnFTz5pfJ44QIqN96NNzBllNAMtIsvMvXhfm-UyQmjJqeoKZD10NJAjUSptGHKKhUZe4ubbBctPYhkJ9smM3KcWWme0aNplYW1jTI0vzkEVqD1gmnFrb29Xc3tuZZ5Ed-VnckZOo/s1600/Untitled.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmdEfMMnFTz5pfJ44QIqN96NNzBllNAMtIsvMvXhfm-UyQmjJqeoKZD10NJAjUSptGHKKhUZe4ubbBctPYhkJ9smM3KcWWme0aNplYW1jTI0vzkEVqD1gmnFrb29Xc3tuZZ5Ed-VnckZOo/s640/Untitled.jpg" ssa="true" width="536" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdtNGkvZkBFCgwqA-CnKhyTtYooh_mlcbDD-KkxCNpBOUwAPcUzqtCmsB13KUrCnfuGcp37vv9SBc6geHRCguHnHc_pLyPVauuuBNga02POJ6wyr6LaNbD_lAcDOlB7c0HPGV46KXVDfvj/s1600/Untitled2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="350" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdtNGkvZkBFCgwqA-CnKhyTtYooh_mlcbDD-KkxCNpBOUwAPcUzqtCmsB13KUrCnfuGcp37vv9SBc6geHRCguHnHc_pLyPVauuuBNga02POJ6wyr6LaNbD_lAcDOlB7c0HPGV46KXVDfvj/s400/Untitled2.jpg" ssa="true" width="400" /></a></div>
Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01007257169361470843noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4819060966829014139.post-11552524076481911592013-03-15T11:45:00.000-05:002013-03-15T11:53:24.331-05:00Skirts Make Me Uncomfortable<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I work at a tax firm, so I'm basically way too busy this time of year to be blogging. But I've been feeling very fashionable this week and I wanted to share pictures with somebody. Photo posts are so lazy, but I don't really have time for much else!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyVYb58VDDdVzzz0gZjoH-NKGBPIbUDOkpeoy8-lapCHXPp8hOMzjfcebZyonsce73wYuHW_f2CUPek0S2gdF4SZPr13P5QZFZYWKYGhrzUa18ISuOE9fSE1Mo7o09Zs73yz4UUxtsALg5/s1600/20130313_161549.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" psa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyVYb58VDDdVzzz0gZjoH-NKGBPIbUDOkpeoy8-lapCHXPp8hOMzjfcebZyonsce73wYuHW_f2CUPek0S2gdF4SZPr13P5QZFZYWKYGhrzUa18ISuOE9fSE1Mo7o09Zs73yz4UUxtsALg5/s320/20130313_161549.jpg" width="244" /></a></div>
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This is my outfit from Wednesday of this week. Just ignore the fact that I'm clearly standing in the bathroom at work, and also ignore the fact that I'm taking pictures of myself in the mirror. I was feeling extremely uncomfortable and traumatized all day, and I'm positive it was because of the skirt. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjljBokPfvkrjoUuy6236y03YLe-Q-V6N-8RQNbqwY_frpSKtRkFWFXjGzEIh38a8uM0xXSmDTHk5vRgrEfiGVcxS3MW0L2TUhvjp9u6NwyG_0L__lZpjBGRRomgmKAXvxAsaqG6Kv4tscs/s1600/20130314_101431.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" psa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjljBokPfvkrjoUuy6236y03YLe-Q-V6N-8RQNbqwY_frpSKtRkFWFXjGzEIh38a8uM0xXSmDTHk5vRgrEfiGVcxS3MW0L2TUhvjp9u6NwyG_0L__lZpjBGRRomgmKAXvxAsaqG6Kv4tscs/s320/20130314_101431.jpg" width="209" /></a></div>
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This is me on Thursday, suddenly feeling confident and comfortable in a pair of dress pants and a cardigan. It's amazing how much better I felt that day. </div>
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Anybody from a Fundy background like me knows how frustrating clothes can be. I feel like I never had a chance to discover my style, and I have all these random insecurities and paranoia when it comes to getting dressed.</div>
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"OMG what will happen if I lift my arms up? Someone might see my midrif!"</div>
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"Relax"</div>
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"Can't wear this, you can see a bra strap"</div>
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"Is it acceptable to wear pants this tight?"</div>
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"What is normal?"</div>
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"Forget it. I give up. I'll just stay in the house all day. Better yet, I'll stay in bed all day."</div>
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I've had to force myself to put aside my fears and focus on what I want and what makes me feel good. Those are both major no-no's for a Fundie girl, but those days are behind me now. This last year has been an adventure in self discover and self acceptance, and I think I'm finally starting to enjoy it.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFE610oYS0-6pa_ObQ66aJ6vosn5gau9tQxfTBTjsEcA4RVkK6shydD8LcvWuQa7QBqY8LRcPP2rp5Ovj-mUhvg6c9aEYqzh9BuZS6HETk5P15T6E2Aa-pUQQZrlyvTyQh9W8xR4TcJQ-F/s1600/20130315_102353.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" psa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFE610oYS0-6pa_ObQ66aJ6vosn5gau9tQxfTBTjsEcA4RVkK6shydD8LcvWuQa7QBqY8LRcPP2rp5Ovj-mUhvg6c9aEYqzh9BuZS6HETk5P15T6E2Aa-pUQQZrlyvTyQh9W8xR4TcJQ-F/s320/20130315_102353.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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This is me today. We do casual Friday at my office. I'm feeling awesome in my sweater from the men's section of H & M. I painted my nails green and I'm wearing neon orange socks under my boots, because they make me happy and remind me that it's okay to be me. Today is a good day. :)</div>
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<em>Has anyone else experienced skirt-PTSD? Have you guys struggled to find your style or accept your body? What is your version of "Neon Orange Socks?"</em>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01007257169361470843noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4819060966829014139.post-32699718147126704752013-03-08T13:06:00.000-06:002013-03-08T13:29:32.986-06:00Still Crying: The Opposite of What You Meant To Teach Me<span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">This post is from an anoymous author. </span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;"> </span><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;"> Even when I wasn’t the child being spanked, I searched for a place of solitude where I could cry without being caught. Hearing my brother’s screams through the closed doors of my father’s study was more traumatizing than getting spanked myself. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"> Now, 10 years later, if I even hear my dad start to get angry with one of my siblings I immediately find a way to take care of the situation before he does. </span><span style="line-height: 17px;"> </span><span style="line-height: 17px;">i just take over or yell at him for scaring a kids. I'm not scared of him for me. Just scared that the babies will be scared of him. </span><span style="line-height: 18px; text-indent: 0.5in;">I have to shield them from the cause of the fear that was embedded into my life.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">Why did my brother have to get hurt so badly though? I knew he didn’t do anything wrong on purpose! Eventually, I ran out of excuses to hide. Now, I can’t cry. I just deal with it.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">When I dragged the wooden spanking stick to one of my parents in total shame? Well, that was alright because I knew I had done something wrong. Did it matter what I had done? They knew better than me and loved me so obviously it was my fault. Now, I am a perfectionist. I am constantly told to “relax” and “it doesn’t have to be perfect…” But doesn’t it?</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;"> For as long as I can remember, I have been able to wiggle my way out of trouble. Mostly by lying, sometimes barely manipulating the truth. You got spanked for lying, but it was better to risk getting caught in a lie than be punished no matter what the truth was. Now, it has taken years of struggling with my natural instinct to lie. Only my hard work has made me the honest person I am.</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 18px;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The only fixed standard in my childhood was that whatever Dad says goes. If I had any other ideas I had better not voice them. Now, I have to force myself to share my opinions no matter who I am talking to</span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=4819060966829014139" name="13d42017fd09fa50__GoBack" style="color: #1155cc;"></a><span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">It has taken me years to overcome my struggles and will be many more before I am through with them. One thing I can say for sure, however, is that I have only learned the very opposite of what spanking was supposed to have “taught” me.</span><br />
<span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span><span style="line-height: 18px;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><em>(Please show your support and leave comments for the authors if you can. Remember, this is an open ended series! Please consider writing something yourself, or sharing the project with your friends and followers. The guidelines are listed </em></span><a href="http://sarah-whoiamwithoutyou.blogspot.com/2012/06/still-crying-pain-of-corporal.html" style="color: #0585ff; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; line-height: 20px; text-decoration: none;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><em>here</em></span></a><span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small; line-height: 20px;"><em>, but feel free to write in whatever format is easiest for you.)</em></span></span></div>
Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01007257169361470843noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4819060966829014139.post-17980330714110319842013-03-06T18:31:00.000-06:002013-03-07T08:21:38.569-06:00Still Crying: "Spanking Time"<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
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<span style="color: black; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This peice is from an anonymous author. </span><br /><span style="color: black; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div>
<span style="color: black; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">______________________________________________________________________</span><br /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Its funny how a child can turn anything into a game. </span></span><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">My brother and i wrote a song called Spanking Time. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222;">We usually played a game called court; where the whole point was catching the evildoer in their crime and then punishing them. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222;"><br /></span></span></span><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222;">The most exciting part of playing "house" was being the mommy or daddy, because then you had the power to beat the "kids". My siblings and I came up with a game where you would take turns "spanking" each-other and whoever quit or cried first lost.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222;"><br /></span></span></span><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222;">It's sickening that this was how we reacted. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222;"><br /></span></span></span><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222;">The feeling of power was so rare to us kids that we had to become the only source of power we knew to feel in control of our lives.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222;"><br /></span></span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><em>(Please show your support and leave comments for the authors if you can. Remember, this is an open ended series! Please consider writing something yourself, or sharing the project with your friends and followers. The guidelines are listed </em></span><a href="http://sarah-whoiamwithoutyou.blogspot.com/2012/06/still-crying-pain-of-corporal.html" style="background-color: white; color: #0585ff; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px; text-decoration: none;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><em>here</em></span></span></a><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><em>, but feel free to write in whatever format is easiest for you.)</em></span></span>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01007257169361470843noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4819060966829014139.post-72838880456621440402013-02-25T11:45:00.000-06:002013-02-25T11:45:14.696-06:00The Magical Third Strand<div class="MsoNormal" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When I got married two and a half years ago, I had a lot of pre-conceived opinions. I knew marriage wasn’t going to be easy, but I was convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that we were going to make it. My confidence came from the belief that my fiancé and I had a special secret weapon against the trials of marriage: we had God. God was the third strand that would keep our marriage together, no matter what. I believed that my marriage was inherently stronger than those of non-believers. After all, God gave us superior insight and patience. God had gifted us with stronger and more powerful feelings of commitment. God had promised us that our cord of three strands would not be easily broken. I knew that my marriage was better than your marriage because God was supernaturally holding us together.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Imagine my surprise when I faced reality for the first time. We had been married for about 6 months. I was deep in post-patriarchy depression and I cried myself to sleep almost every night. My husband and I prayed together every day, but still I could see the toll my struggles were taking our marriage. I didn’t know how to feel better, and he didn’t know how to help me. I often thought of how much better off he would be without me. As I began facing my childhood for the first time, I developed a visceral reaction to anything that felt restrictive to me. I remember the exact moment when I first realized the magnitude of my “till death do us part” commitment.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">I was sitting on my bed in our tiny apartment folding clothes. I started to think about the rest of my life. I was 19, and already the biggest decisions of my life were behind me. I would be folding these same socks and underwear every week for the rest. Of. My. Life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I suddenly felt trapped, claustrophobic in my own life. I had committed to this marriage before God, and now I couldn’t leave. Ever. My chest constricted and my breath came faster. “I can’t do this.” I thought. “I can’t do this.” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I imagined packing my things and leaving right then. My heart swelled with hope at the idea of being truly free for the first time in my life. Those thoughts terrified me, and in that moment I felt betrayed by God. “You promised that I wouldn’t have to feel this way!” I prayed through the tears. “You promised you would hold us together!” I felt cold and naked as I realized that there was no supernatural power keeping me here in this apartment with this man. There was no safety net protecting our marriage. There was nothing but our own desires, and I didn’t even know what I wanted.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What first felt like betrayal, turned out to be the most freeing realization of my married life. I examined my heart and gave myself permission to think about what I wanted. I gave myself permission to pursue the things that made me happy. I made a lot of changes in my life, like going back to school and moving to a new state. The biggest breakthrough of all was realizing that I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wanted </i>to be with my spouse. He makes me laugh, his personality compliments mine. He believes in me even when I don’t believe in myself. He does not “complete me,” but I cannot imagine my life without him. The life that I have is the life that I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">want</i>. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxRPIbXYsA4OotaDTQyIl4e8WaU2IBOHFgBz6RR33Huf-0WYUAkS3vzufmky482OWMauyS2EkqZl90Yi4hMveTYzjbuBXX9ioYn2jv9CItgrXokEblY8j0bcmlqE25_755aQ20wLgBtrEF/s1600/i-love-you-1357901400XCg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="color: black;"><img border="0" gsa="true" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxRPIbXYsA4OotaDTQyIl4e8WaU2IBOHFgBz6RR33Huf-0WYUAkS3vzufmky482OWMauyS2EkqZl90Yi4hMveTYzjbuBXX9ioYn2jv9CItgrXokEblY8j0bcmlqE25_755aQ20wLgBtrEF/s320/i-love-you-1357901400XCg.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The love we have for each other, and the commitment we made to each other is stronger and more profound than it has ever been. Many people question the strength and validity of our marriage because we are “unequally yoked” or too egalitarian. I used to do the same thing. The idea of stepping into a lifelong commitment is substantially less terrifying when you think you have a supernatural shield around you and your spouse. But how much more beautiful is a wedding where two flawed humans commit to one another, fully aware of the challenges they will face? How much more powerful is a marriage where two people stay together because they <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">want </i>to?</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There is no magical third strand holding my marriage together, it’s just us. We promised each other that no matter what happens, we will never stop working on our marriage. We promised that no matter how our feelings change, we will never give up on our love. I mean it, and know that he does too. And that’s good enough for me.</span></div>
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01007257169361470843noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4819060966829014139.post-81612659819563411672013-02-18T14:46:00.000-06:002013-02-18T14:46:13.338-06:00Self Hatred and the Morning Person<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I got up this morning at the usual time and rushed through my weekday morning routine. I’ve been doing the same thing every day for the last 3 years: shower, hair, makeup, clothes, and shoes, fly out the door just in time to make it to the office by 8.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtGhvPifiS2Xi-dv_JqCFFUTvGS6aTjTKX_6_WwEP38vXI5cFg_nPmWEfyaonThLSbOZs7o-5kDckmLDXvw0VdE1nvcfcNydOs0B1Fvx4fPu1E5S4VQnvdatW1cFN8UupMQgPGEPGJMFqE/s1600/lips-light-effect.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtGhvPifiS2Xi-dv_JqCFFUTvGS6aTjTKX_6_WwEP38vXI5cFg_nPmWEfyaonThLSbOZs7o-5kDckmLDXvw0VdE1nvcfcNydOs0B1Fvx4fPu1E5S4VQnvdatW1cFN8UupMQgPGEPGJMFqE/s320/lips-light-effect.jpg" uea="true" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Getting ready in the morning has always been like a nightmare for me, <span style="font-size: large;">ever since I was a kid. I’ve always hated my body,</span> and squeezing into clothes makes me self conscious. Staring myself in the face without makeup makes me uncomfortable. Putting on my hand-me-down jewelry that isn’t quite fashionable embarrasses me. Leaving the house with all these insecurities makes me anxious and nervous. Maybe it’s the anticipation that makes me wake up nauseas and sore every morning, feeling like I’ve caught the flue overnight. <span style="font-size: large;">Depression hits me the hardest in the morning. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Up until recently, if you asked me if I’m a “morning person” I would always say NO. Mornings are awful. Mornings mean facing overwhelming self-hatred. Mornings mean another long day of adversity. Waking up means the disappointment of knowing that I’m still alive. I’d rather just stay buried under the blankets where no one will know I exist. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUjbR5mwzyuAo8DXrj1ChYTp15a2NHbuSEugfdsNoIS-IvEzewV77Zx7oN63QXzhNrOmrt_XWnPpeQ2JMWduXnGSFSeoC-zUdZUG6TA1c3h8F4xb5A1YTZ3WAqinXLu4hyphenhyphentZoCA-XieUWZ/s1600/nubes-negras.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUjbR5mwzyuAo8DXrj1ChYTp15a2NHbuSEugfdsNoIS-IvEzewV77Zx7oN63QXzhNrOmrt_XWnPpeQ2JMWduXnGSFSeoC-zUdZUG6TA1c3h8F4xb5A1YTZ3WAqinXLu4hyphenhyphentZoCA-XieUWZ/s320/nubes-negras.jpg" uea="true" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There are a number of factors that led to my self-hatred. <span style="font-size: large;">The Patriarchal society I grew up in demonized a woman’s body and sexuality while simultaneously glorifying the concept of the sweet, childlike virgin bride that I knew I would never emulate.</span> I was never encouraged to express my emotions, so all my confusing feelings stayed trapped inside me. Being bisexual (and being taught that such things were abominable) also caused me to vilify a woman’s body in general. It was easier to hate it than admit to forbidden attraction. When paired with depression and lack of education, my natural bodily development became a waking nightmare. The hatred I had for myself and my body was not just a passing teenage phase; it was a devastating condition that colored my entire world in a muddy shade of black. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For most of my life I <em>sincerely</em> believed that I was stupid, worthless, ugly, lazy, gluttonous, and sloppy. <span style="font-size: large;">Self hatred is painful, debilitating, and dangerous.</span> Lucky for me, I have people in my life who understand that. I am here today, I am healthy today, because my Hunnie, my sister, and a few close friends chose to take my struggles seriously. They insisted again and again that the opinions I had of myself were false. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were there for me day or night to talk me though my anxiety. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It took countless long talks and years of hard work to get me to the place I am today. </span>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcyIC0Bw0M7n0S5IYKHOVY9tSlQix8pqhHgevJjhg4VbsHcepS-8Is2lWP3yB25w-W2DMT2c9YNvHatsnh6MeMetUBlWDn0Alhowzwi16wWKxX6smGRvtm2WFsT4l2j4N5TpYYLVcjg3tU/s1600/IMG_20130131_101631.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcyIC0Bw0M7n0S5IYKHOVY9tSlQix8pqhHgevJjhg4VbsHcepS-8Is2lWP3yB25w-W2DMT2c9YNvHatsnh6MeMetUBlWDn0Alhowzwi16wWKxX6smGRvtm2WFsT4l2j4N5TpYYLVcjg3tU/s320/IMG_20130131_101631.jpg" uea="true" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is actually me wearing my fave brown dress pants </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I don’t know exactly when it happened, but at some point this last year the heavy fog of depression, anxiety, and self hatred started to dissipate. <span style="font-size: large;">It wasn’t until this morning that I realized how far I have come.</span> I found myself singing in the shower at 6:00am (sorry neighbor). I winked at myself in the mirror while rubbing product into my super short hair. I put on my favorite checkered socks and walked around the house in my underwear without cringing every time I passed a mirror. And when my grey dress pants were too small to button, I switched to the bigger brown pair and it <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">didn’t even bother me</i>. Really. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This is ME we’re talking about here. <span style="font-size: large;">The same girl who, at 8 years old, covered her whole body with washcloths in the bathtub because she didn’t want to have to see how “fat” she was.</span> The same girl who refused to look in the mirror for much of her teenage life.. The same girl who stopped eating because a friend mentioned that she had a “little pooch.” And there I was this morning, smiling at my curves and meaning it. I just thought “welp, guess I’m not a size 8 after all.” Those grey pants were milestone for me. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Don’t be afraid to reach out to someone who’s hurting. You don’t have to say much. Simply tell them the truth:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You are beautiful. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> You are smart.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> You are strong. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> You can be anything you want to be. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong>And don’t stop saying it until they start to believe. </strong></span></div>
Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01007257169361470843noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4819060966829014139.post-81467827137796691992013-02-13T14:58:00.000-06:002013-02-13T15:18:09.406-06:00Imaginary Friend<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: Calibri;">I sometimes hear my non-religious friends making jokes about Christians and mocking them for their “imaginary friend,” god. The implication is that Christians are foolish, weak, or childish for their beliefs. </span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Calibri;">I do not call myself a Christian. The idea of a Deity that human beings can understand seems impossible to me. But my spouse is a Christian, many of my close friends are Christians. To them, faith means the security of knowing they are loved and accepted by someone, even when their lives and their hearts are in chaos. Their faith isn't about politics or perfection, it's about purpose and inner peace.</span><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-size: large;">Everybody needs to be loved.</span></div>
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</span><span style="color: black; font-family: Calibri;">So why should we mock somebody who <em>chooses</em> to believe that they are unconditionally and eternally loved by a higher power? </span><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Calibri;">I am lucky enough to have a loving and supportive spouse, family, and community, but that doesn’t make it okay for me to ridicule those who choose to seek out love and support from a god and a church. </span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Calibri;">We live in a world full of questions; let’s not mock each other’s answers. </span></div>
Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01007257169361470843noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4819060966829014139.post-39535628377385325282013-02-04T14:31:00.001-06:002013-02-04T14:31:31.026-06:00Through The Eyes of the Privileged<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">Like most Americans, I spent Sunday night watching the NFL Super Bowl. I was not surprised by the blatant and gratuitous sexism (and occasional racism) in the infamous Super Bowl commercials. I was expecting to see some breasts selling Budweiser and some pole dancing to advertise a show. <span style="font-size: large;">Women were exploited, marginalized, and objectified in almost every commercial, just as I expected.</span> Sexism is alive and well. I joined many others on twitter by calling out the sexism with the </span><a href="http://www.missrepresentation.org/not-buying-it/"><span style="color: #0b5394;">Miss Representation tag of #NotBuyingIt</span></a><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #0b5394;">.</span> We used social media to call on companies to end their sexist campaigns and stop perpetuating the obvious issue. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em><strong>I honestly don’t know why I was so surprised by what happened next.</strong></em></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was attacked. </span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;">My inboxes and my cell phone lit up with snarky, sarcastic, and downright hateful messages.</span> All of them were from middle class, white, cisgendered, heterosexual males. “You’re a hypocrite for not calling out the commercials that make men look dumb!” <br />“Women have more privileges than men, feminism is just reverse sexism!” <br />“Why are you always complaining about women having it rough? You can do whatever you want in America if you just work hard enough!” <br />“What, no comment about the taco bell commercial making old people look bad?” <strong><em>“Everybody’s life is rough, you people need get over it!”</em> </strong></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I could go on.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;">I have gone from disbelief, to fury, to bewilderment</span>. Maybe I’ve been out of the Fundie bubble for too long, but are there <em>really</em> still this many people who don’t believe that sexism and racism exist? I mean there are FACTS out there, people. </span><a href="http://www.census.gov/hhes/www/poverty/"><span style="color: #0b5394;">37% of African American children and 34% of Hispanic children live below the poverty limit, compared to 12% of white children.</span></a><span style="color: black;"> Women are still making only 75% of what a man makes in the same job. Despite major growth in minority college enrollment, Hispanic and African American highschool seniors are still </span><a href="http://diverseeducation.com/article/4379/"><span style="color: #0b5394;">significantly less likely</span></a><span style="color: black;"> to be able to attend college than their white peers. The list goes on and on. You do not have to look far to see the glaringly obvious inequalities in our society. <strong>And yet so many people choose willful ignorance.</strong></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMvYBpSF0SqegnHEaxnyVzthtofz_GUpjo9VrP7Owkb5cMINF4bZdrA1j4GeML3E5FCnAEh2TOyc6Dx64ja3y-nZ4YadClbblaEUZk8kj6pGCPIUyFBWa22CJbSsYHcif4Td4W1DLZUlkn/s1600/TrayvonHood.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" ea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMvYBpSF0SqegnHEaxnyVzthtofz_GUpjo9VrP7Owkb5cMINF4bZdrA1j4GeML3E5FCnAEh2TOyc6Dx64ja3y-nZ4YadClbblaEUZk8kj6pGCPIUyFBWa22CJbSsYHcif4Td4W1DLZUlkn/s1600/TrayvonHood.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">As a cisgendered, white woman married to a man, <span style="font-size: large;">I am well aware of my privilege.</span> Because I happened to fall in love with a man, I was able to get married without any problem. This allowed me to get enough financial aid to attend college.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Unemployment statistics, evidence of workplace racism, and stories like </span><a href="http://www.clutchmagonline.com/2012/11/by-any-means-necessary-unemployed-black-women-pretends-to-be-white-job-prospects-dramatically-increase/"><span style="color: #0b5394;">this one</span></a><span style="color: black;"> would suggest that my skin color made me more likely to be hired. I am also less likely to be the target of hate crimes than say, a trans woman or an African American teenager.<strong> I know this.</strong> I do everything I can to educate myself on the difficulties faced by my fellow human beings, and<span style="font-size: large;"> I stand up against inequalities wherever I see them with passion and empathy.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This is why I don’t understand the garbage in my inbox. Are all of these guys just completely uneducated on the issues of racism, sexism, heterosexism, etc? <span style="font-size: large;">Do I need to lend them a few biographies written by someone in a minority demographic?</span> Did they fall asleep in history class and miss the parts where we wouldn’t let women vote? Where we trafficked in human flesh for over 50 years after the civil war? Where we displaced, raped, and murdered thousands of Native Americans? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Are they sincerely ignorant like I </span><a href="http://www.patheos.com/blogs/permissiontolive/2013/01/dr-king-a-part-of-history-i-never-knew.html"><span style="color: #0b5394;">and my fellow former-fundies</span></a><span style="color: black;"> used to be? Or are these guys so high on their cloud of privilege that they can’t see destructive inequalities and discrimination that <em>define the reality</em> of so many millions of people?</span></span></div>
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01007257169361470843noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4819060966829014139.post-59256391749989116812012-12-19T13:53:00.002-06:002012-12-19T13:55:41.862-06:00Dear Diary: Body Images<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was browsing through my childhood diary again this week and I came across this gem. I drew this when I was 11 years old. It is clear from the picture that my perception of beauty was already twisted. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbNQcqhOcqd65VTqZaMhZSQza4hCauuoVNDGPywPHeUMwHO9cFWvm99Y4rrTfZmvT6OW6KkJ6R9wzMDG_hHoHe5ExirDlSUw9KGL1Zx5WnwPvj315wbZbuEqCukEnclAxCFArhhr1mMPNR/s1600/A22iQU3CEAAynIa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; height: 640px; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; width: 642px;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" eea="true" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbNQcqhOcqd65VTqZaMhZSQza4hCauuoVNDGPywPHeUMwHO9cFWvm99Y4rrTfZmvT6OW6KkJ6R9wzMDG_hHoHe5ExirDlSUw9KGL1Zx5WnwPvj315wbZbuEqCukEnclAxCFArhhr1mMPNR/s640/A22iQU3CEAAynIa.jpg" width="480" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The red head with curly hair and a curvy frame was deemed "ugly" and the extremely thin girl with straight hair and giant lips is "almost prity." Imagine my horror as I grew up into a body similar to that of my "ugly" redheaded drawing.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Fundimentalist doctrine teaches that a woman's body is somthing to be ashamed of and hidden. It teaches that womanhood is synonymous with frailty and china-doll perfection. I believe that fundamentalist doctrine devastates a girl's ability to love and respect her body. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">I also found it ironic that the "ugly" one is wearing an apron. I mean if she's not attractive enough to get a man with her looks, she'd better be able to cook or she's basically worthless. Ugh.</span></div>
Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01007257169361470843noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4819060966829014139.post-3918186419962832102012-12-07T14:18:00.000-06:002012-12-07T14:21:08.344-06:00Afraid of the dark <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Arial;"> </span></o:p></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">A year ago, I wrote <a href="http://sarah-whoiamwithoutyou.blogspot.com/2011/09/possessed.html">a post</a> about how as a kid I was convinced that I was possessed by the devil. I talked about the very first moment that I became afraid. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">One of my earliest memories is of playing hide-and-seek at Grandma and Grandpa’s trailer. I was lying in the dark under the bed with my face pressed down into the red shag carpet. Waiting. There were dusty shoe boxes and plastic-wrapped blankets stacked all around me. I felt like they were waiting too, for the sunlight, for someone to open them again. Like most children, I was patient only when it came to hiding games, and I was willing to lie there all night, if need be, for someone to find me. I put my hands over my eyes and pushed down on my eye balls. When I lifted the pressure, the space in front of me exploded with imaginary fireworks. I pressed down harder, and harder, until suddenly I thought that maybe I could see a set of eyes. They were big and round and silver and stared right back at me unblinking, like an owl. Completely forgetting the game, I wriggled out from under the bed and went charging down the hall into the kitchen. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">“Gramma! When I hide under the bed, I can see an owl’s eyes looking at me!” <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Grandma looked up from the dishes with concern on her face. Grandpa, who was sitting at the kitchen table while Grandma cleaned, ordered me to come and stand before him. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Arial;"> </span></o:p></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">“What did you see?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">“Owl Eyes!” I laughed. “Big round silver ones! Under the bed when I close my eyes!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I don’t remember what he said next, but I remember my excitement went suddenly cold. Grandpa was not happy. He asked me lots of questions, and before long, Grandma dried off her hands and came to sit with us at the table. They laid their hands on my head and prayed. Grandpa rebuked Satan in the name of Jesus and Grandma whispered “yes Lord” under her breath again and again. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I used to look back on that day as the moment when Satan entered my body.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I am sometimes afraid that if I ever become a parent I wont know how to address situations like this. When someone talks about seeing things in the dark, my automatic thought is that it MUST be demons. (Which is ridiculous since I don’t believe in demons.) <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I get uncomfortable and nervous none the less. I was wondering what I would do if my hypothetical child came to me about seeing things in the dark. As I browsed the comments, I came across one from <a href="http://shadowspring-lovelearningliberty.blogspot.com/">Shadowspring</a> that brought a huge smile to my face. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">“</span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Horrifying. You poor princess. I just want to pick up that little girl that saw owl eyes and go rewrite that whole story. <br /><br />Would I be smart enough to figure out exactly what you had experienced? Probably not, but we could've put treats out for the owl, gone to library for owl books (including Winnie the Pooh), made up a series of owl adventures and/or even had a field trip to the raptor center. That's the kind of grandma I want to be.<br /><br />I bet your grandparents would cry if they knew that religious freak-out was the beginning of so much pain for you. At least, I hope they would.<br /><br />Hugs, SS”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Arial;"> As an agnostic, I no longer believe in dark, powerful demons that can harm and hurt you at will. I have no reason to be afraid for myself or my hypothetical children. Thanks, SS for the sweet comment. I know someday I'll think of you when my children come to me afraid of the dark. I know i will honestly be able to say "there is nothing to fear."</span></o:p></span></div>
Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01007257169361470843noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4819060966829014139.post-19746150396855157392012-10-31T23:25:00.000-05:002012-10-31T23:25:21.577-05:00Dear Diary: Losing My Pure Heart<span style="color: black; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Context: When I was thirteen I fell really hard for the only boy I'd ever spent any time with. He was a friend of the family. We held hands twice before the adults caught on and shut it all down. I wrote this is my diary shortly after that incident.</span><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Dear Diary, August 18</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Oh I feel so horrible! How could I do this? I've preached to my friends but I'm just a hypocrite. I'm so confused and ashamed. If I can't say "he's my first love" on my wedding day, why does it even matter how many there have been. I'm a used napkin now. I know God used this to teach me, but why did he have to steal the gift of a pure heart? Why did I let this happen? It's not fair. My life is a mess. I wish I had a different life. I wish God put me somewhere else. I wish i could stop wishing! I don't want to be a worldy girl. I hate them. I hate how they gossip. I hate thier flirty clothes. I hate thier cakey makeup and nail polish. I hate how they always seem so happy... I hate that I want to be one of them, and I hate how it shows.</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">-Sarah</span>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01007257169361470843noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4819060966829014139.post-27854586035486782362012-10-24T12:19:00.001-05:002012-10-24T14:12:13.826-05:00Dear Diary: Fundamentalism Through the Eyes of a Child<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I don't know about you, but sometimes I feel guilty for leaving fundamentalism It's not logical obviously, but somewhere deep down I still have this built in self-doubt. "It wasn't that bad," I tell myself, "you're exaggerating " I think about the things I've written on my blog and wonder if maybe I've somehow made them all up. Maybe my memories are flawed, maybe I'm victimizing myself.</span><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In one of these moments of self-doubt, I turned to my childhood journal for affirmation. What I found startled me even more than my memories. Every page is swimming with self-hatred. Half the journal entries read like a suicide note. It's horrifying. </span><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Fundamentalism teaches children that they are sinners. It teaches them to deny themselves, despise their needs, sterilize their personality, and strangle their sexuality. It teaches girls that they are stupid, insignificant, and purposeless without a man. The things you believe about yourself during your formative years shape the way you think, feel, and behave for the rest of your life. Nothing can be more crippling than self-hatred.</span><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">To illustrate how deeply fundamentalism destroys a child's self-worth, I am considering publishing some of the entries from my childhood/teenage journals. This will not be a commentary on my family or the things that happened in my home. It will be a glimpse into the mind and heart of a little girl who believed she did not deserve to live. My hope would be that people will see the dangers of fundamentalist Christianity and think twice about the things they teach (or allow to be thought) to their children.</span><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Would anyone find this helpful or interesting? Would you be interested in sharing bits from your childhood journal to add to the illustration?<br /></span><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">UPDATE: Many people experienced similar self-hatred stemming from psychological abuse that was not necessarily religious in nature. I welcome journal entries from those children as well as they offer a clear example of how religious fundamentalism is a form of psychological abuse.</span></div>
Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01007257169361470843noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4819060966829014139.post-46924125562537579612012-10-02T15:39:00.000-05:002012-10-02T15:39:43.022-05:00Anti-Birth Control or Anti-Women?<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">During my engagement, my fiancé and I received a call from another young couple we knew. They had been married for about 5 years and already had 4 small children. I had mentioned in a previous conversation that I was considering some kind of IUD to prevent pregnancy for our first year of marriage, so<span style="font-size: large;"> I was not surprised when they revealed that they wanted to talk to us about birth control.</span> “Any birth control besides a barrier method is basically an abortion” they told us. “We will come visit you tonight (it was a 15 hour drive) if you’re really serious about using BC, we feel that strongly about it.” </span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I took their passionate response as a sign from God: <strong>birth control is murder</strong>. They gave me the same argument I grew up hearing, but in more detail.<span style="font-size: large;"> If you haven’t heard the argument, it goes something like this:</span> Birth control pills work by thinning the lining of the uterus. If your birth control fails to prevent ovulation (this happens in 2-10% of cases) and an egg becomes fertilized, the uterus will reject the egg, thus causing the “baby” to die and be expelled from the body. The argument continues by saying that millions of babies are murdered by birth control every year. </span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Some of you may have seen </span><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=auv6c0-FsjU"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">this video</span></a><span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> circulating on the Internet. It’s the one that claims birth control is responsible for adultery, homosexuality, divorce, murder, and a slew of other “evils.” <span style="font-size: large;">I won’t even begin to address the dozens of lies and misleading statistics in the video.</span> I just want to address the issue at the core of the anti-birth control. Namely, that birth control is murder.</span></div>
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<o:p><span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></o:p><o:p><span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></o:p></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now, this whole position is ridiculous if you don’t believe that a zygote is a baby. Most people hear the anti-birth control argument and shrug it off. <span style="font-size: large;">There are some, however, that believe life begins at conception. For those people, hormonal birth control seems to be completely out of the question.</span> However, the anti-birth control crowd leaves out one very important fact: a woman’s body <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">naturally </i>rejects at least 18% of fertilized eggs. This means that if you have unprotected sex that leads to the fertilization of an egg (30% chance or successful fertilization), the resulting zygote has an 18% chance of being rejected by the uterus. The human body <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">naturally </i>performs “abortions” almost 20% of the time. So does taking birth control actually increase the chances of zygote abortion, or does birth control actually <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">reduce </i>the chances of this occurring? <span style="font-size: large;">Let’s do the math</span>.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Without Birth Control:</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Out of 100 fertile women on birth control, 100 of them will ovulate in any given month.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Out of those 100 released eggs, 33 will become fertilized.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Out of those 33, 18% will be rejected by the uterus.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In a group of 100 women <u>not </u>on birth control: 6 zygotes will “die”</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">With Birth Control:</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Out of 100 fertile women on birth control, around 6 of them will ovulate in any given month.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Out of those 6 released eggs, only 2 will become fertilized.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Out of those 2, 100% will be rejected by the uterus.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In a group of 100 women on birth control: 2 zygotes will “die”</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So let’s get this straight, taking birth control makes a woman’s body LESS likely to dispel fertilized eggs. <span style="font-size: large;">If you believe that life begins at conception, shouldn’t it be your moral duty to reduce the number of zygote “abortions?”</span> If you believe that a zygote is a human, you actually kill more babies by refusing to take birth control. </span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">How has such a massive flaw gone unnoticed all this time?</span> Did anti-birth control advocates really just “miss” these obvious facts, or could it be that they like the result of this misconception? Denying women rights to their own reproduction is the oldest weapon in the war on women. Even if you believe that a zygote deserves the same rights as a full grown human, there is still no reason to oppose birth control other than to control women.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> I don’t know about you, but I’ve had enough of the “personhood” smokescreen. Let’s call the anti-birth control message by its real name: <em>anti-woman.</em></span></span></div>
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01007257169361470843noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4819060966829014139.post-77486771747755473302012-09-24T08:00:00.000-05:002012-09-24T08:20:58.928-05:00Confessions of a Bad Mother<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This post is from a reader named Jane B. Thank you for your courage in sharing your story Jane!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">____________________________________________________________________</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Let me just get it out of the way and say I was a BAD MOMMY who did not know any better. I yelled at her, brushed off her thoughts and feelings,called her all kinds of names, put hot sauce in her mouth, spanked her, and worst of all thought children should be told what to do and not really listened to.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> When my daughter was 10 years old I was putting away some of her clothes and saw her diary on top of the dresser so I grabbed it and started crying at some of the stuff I read. In her diary she wrote stuff like I am scared of mom and dad, that she did not trust us, thought she was stupid, thought she was a Disappointment to the both of us, thoughts that her feelings did not matter, thought she was a bad kid, and worst off all thought our love was conditional. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Later that day went to the bookstore and bought a book called P.E.T (Parent Effectiveness Training) by Dr Thomas Gordon and since then my little girl my baby has been more confident,happier,well behaved,loving, caring, compassionate, and best of all she shares her thoughts feeling fear and concerns problems with us because she know we are gonna try and teach/guide her and not punish/hurt her any more. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And to those who spank or who are considering it I ask of two humble requests. First please look at scientific research that shows all the negative effects of corpal punishment. And second I ask that you please look at other more peaceful loving effective methods to raise your children. And to my hunni bunni( daughter childhood nick name) I know you have forgiven me and I have said it a bunch of time but I am sorry for all the pain I have caused you. I will always love you unconditionally no matter what you do.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Jane B</span><br />
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<strong><em><span style="color: black; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">(Please show your support and leave comments for the authors if you can. Remember, this is an open ended series! Please consider writing something yourself, or sharing the project with your friends and followers. The guidelines are listed </span></em></strong><a href="http://sarah-whoiamwithoutyou.blogspot.com/2012/06/still-crying-pain-of-corporal.html"><span style="color: black; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: black; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">here</span></em></strong></span></span></span></a><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: black; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: black; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">, but feel free to write in whatever format is easiest for you)</span></em></strong></span></span></span></span></div>
Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01007257169361470843noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4819060966829014139.post-76748596797190619372012-09-07T08:46:00.001-05:002012-09-07T08:49:28.989-05:00Still Crying: Pieces of Pipe<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This post is from a reader named Rae. It's not too late to submit your story as well!</span><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was spanked as a child. My parents tried to keep it a secret. They kept pieces of pipe hidden in the most obscure corners of our house, and were careful to find excuses for us to miss our swim lessons if we had a suspicious bruise. They warned us not to mention it, saying the government hated Christians and homeschoolers, that we would be taken away from them and put into homes where we would get abused if anyone found out.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Then, when I was twelve, my mom threatened to spank me for the last time. </span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I responded by threatening to call child and family services. I knew that it was illegal to spank foster children. I was waiting for her reaction, weighing the risks and rewards, ready to calculate whether my odds of not getting abused might not truly be better in foster care.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The pieces of pipe disappeared the next day. They're probably still out in those woods, somewhere.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My parents say that we "turned out fine". That we're "perfectly normal". Maybe my siblings are. I don't know. But I do know that I've been conditioned to expect violence from other people. Especially men.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Like the time that I was so scared at a guy suddenly touching my shoulder that I literally ran away, only to later discover that he had simply been trying to return the wallet that had fallen out of my purse.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Or that time my best friend tried to tickle me, and I couldn't prevent myself from fighting back hard enough to injure her.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Or every time that one of my male friends tried to give me a high-five, and I flinched away, and they just laughed. "What? Ohmigod, I'm not going to hit you, you don't have to duck." Like it's some sort of silly idiosyncrasy. </span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And I have to wonder if any of those people, any of my friends or classmates or roommates or dates, have ever realized that there's a part of me that's instinct by now that really does think they'll hit me.</span></div>
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<strong><em><span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">(Please show your support and leave comments for the authors if you can. Remember, this is an open ended series! Please consider writing something yourself, or sharing the project with your friends and followers. The guidelines are listed </span></em></strong><a href="http://sarah-whoiamwithoutyou.blogspot.com/2012/06/still-crying-pain-of-corporal.html"><span style="color: black; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">here</span></em></strong></span></span></span></a><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: black; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">, but feel free to write in whatever format is easiest for you)</span></em></strong></span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01007257169361470843noreply@blogger.com2