Crossing over

I reached a milestone in my work last week! I realized that I haven't posted about actually training since my first few trainings. I've probably done two dozen trainings since then. I know the material, but there are still facts, figures, and statistics that I am acquainting myself with and because of this, I nearly always get really nervous before each training. Any-who, I wasn't really looking forward to the 8 hour training I was scheduled to do on Wednesday, partially because it was 8 hours long and partially because of my nerves. I arrived and went through my normal introductions, still a little bit nervous but making it work. Then, while I was showing a short video, something clicked. I realized that I was standing there because of my expertise. The 24 people in that room weren't experts in the field judging and critiquing my knowledge and abilities. They were there to learn from me. It's okay if I don't have all the answers. It's okay if I don't have a million facts, figures, and statistics memorized. I know my material. I understand domestic violence. I am able to teach and explain the information in a way that is easy to understand. I've worked with victim/survivors first hand. I know what I'm talking about. The video ended and the following 7 hours turned out to be the best and most dynamic training I've given so far. The group filled out evaluations afterwards and they were the best evaluations I've ever received. It feels good. I feel as though I've crossed a threshold. I've gone from being the rookie trainer shaking in my boots to the confident and friendly trainer who isn't afraid of the "hard" questions. It helps that this job is the most empowering and supportive work environment I've ever been in. There are jobs out there where you can be treated like an equal! Can you believe that? It's great.

Miss me?

Yeah, me too. I just haven't felt very creative lately. My knitting is neglected, my bedroom looks like a clothing/shoe store vomited in it, and I'm basically boring. I work, come home, sit on the couch or my supa-fly new recumbent exercise bike and watch tv/read news on the web. Oh yeah, I hang out with my family a lot too. But on the bright side, my foot is mostly better, I'm well-informed on current events and I'm more of an activist than ever. Many thanks to my job for that. I really enjoy the work I get to do and I'm able to stay up on the issues I care most about and get paid. I've encountered some really amazing people and some really CRAZY folks as well. My favorite part of my job is watching light bulbs go on as people really grasp what I'm saying. The even better part is when a training lights a fire and someone becomes committed to the cause of ending family violence. So, while I may be mostly boring in my personal life, my professional life is great and things are generally good all-around. I am going to post my most favorite quotes of late pretty soon. Those aren't boring! In the meantime, click the link below and find out how rich you are in relation to the rest of the world. It made me feel a little bit greedy, but also helped me recognize that there are little things I can do to help others. It's cool, I promise!

http://www.globalrichlist.com/

The Girl Effect

This is very cool. Watch the video and check out the website.
The Girl Effect.

Remember that time when I had a blog?

So... it's been a really long time. How'ya doing? Good? Glad to hear it.

Life's good, busier than ever, but quite good. I really like my new job. It's going really well. I've spent the last 6 weeks shadowing the other trainers and learning the tricks of the trade. Thursday morning was my first solo presentation in the community. I spoke to a social work class at a University. I was a little bit nervous before-hand, but not too bad. It went well and my boss gave me really good feedback. Thursday night I participated in Take Back the Night at one of the other campuses (I manned a booth). It was cool. Next week I'm doing an 8 hour training for CPS employees and then I'm participating in a community diversity fair where I'm presenting twice. One workshop on DV 101 and one on Teen Dating Violence. The keynote speaker that day is going to be Ishmael Beah, author of "A Long Way Gone, Memoirs of a Boy Soldier." I'm excited to hear his story. I really have the coolest job ever.

My foot is doing better. I'm out of the boot and driving, but my foot still hurts and my toe is still swollen and my doctor seems to think that this is somehow okay. I'm going to seek a second opinion.

This basically sums up my life. I need to take pictures of my knitting and post them here. I'll make this my next goal.

Good news for the Trainwreck

This is what I looked like when I came out of the womb... sans the glasses and mascara and eyebrows.


Thank you to all of my beautiful friends for your get well wishes and support. Ya'll are the greatest. Okay, so I'm a really bad blogger/friend and make promises and don't follow through. The suspense! Alright already, the news I've made everyone wait so very very long for is that I have a new job. Many of you are smarter than the average bear and figured it out already. I was waiting to post it here until I'd given notice at my current job because some of my co-workers know this site and I didn't need them to spill the beans. I gave notice at the shelter last week and my last day there will be February 15th. It's a happy/sad situation. I've been at the shelter for three years and it is my HOME. I love it. This new opportunity just seemed to fall in my lap back in December. It's with the Coaliton Against Domestic Violence for my state. The second week of December, I was in a week long training at the Coalition and thought it would be really cool to have a job where I could basically stand on a soap-box preaching about a cause that I'm so passionate about. The trainers seemed really especially cool and it got me thinking. The second day in training, they announced that they had a training position open and stated all the requirements. Something inside me changed and I knew I had to apply and that a new chapter in my life was unfolding. I applied on Friday morning, had my first interview Friday afternoon and I was told that they'd call me the next week if I was going to be offered a second interview. I was really confident that I would get called back and sure enough; they called me on Monday and set up a second interview for the second week in January. (They needed time with the holidays and all.) Because I'd had a month to stew in the idea and am prone to self-doubt and a touch of anxiety, by the time the interview rolled around I was really unsure whether I was right for the job or was ready to leave the shelter. I very nearly called and canceled the interview. They told me it would be a two hour process and to come prepared to give a 10-15 minute presentation on DV101. I wasn't worried about the presentation at all, I was mostly just worried that I might actually get the job and have to leave the safety of my current situation. The interview was conducted by the three trainers I'd become acquainted with in December and began with a series of questions about DV. No worries there. Then they had me present with no clock to see how well I can time myself... I warned them first... and then went over by 7 minutes. It happens. Then they threw all the crazy stuff that people bring up in trainings at me to see how I would answer. It had been an hour and they asked me if I had any questions and I thought I was in the clear. Then they had me draw a card out of a hat. The card said, "DV in the Workplace." Then they sat me at a computer for one hour and had me create an outline for a one-hour presentation on DV in the workplace. Then it was over. They told me they'd contact me sometime within the next two weeks either by phone (a yes) or by letter (a no). They called me a week later. I start on February 19th. My official title is Training Coordinator. My job will involve staying up on all of the latest research and stats about DV and facilitating trainings all over the state. I'll be traveling quite a bit and will get to interact with shelter staff, law enforcement, and those fighting to end family violence all over the state. It's truly an amazing opportunity for me and I feel really blessed that it has come my way.

In other news....

My toe isn't broken. Hooray! My foot is. Crap. Seriously. I have a non-displaced fracture in the fourth metatarsal in my right foot. The fracture is is up high in my in-step (very near the cuboid) and according to my podiatrist, the more I walk on it, the higher the likelihood of it displacing and ruining my life. The solution?

There isn't one that works with my life.

I'm not supposed to walk on it at all. The only way to do this is with crutches. The problem with this? My collarbone is still very tender and because of this, I cannot use my arms to bear my weight. The only solution is to stay in bed. With a bed-pan and a maid houseboy. Again, not a viable option. So I continue to wear my walking boot, use my crutches to keep me from putting too much weight on my foot, and go about my business. Because I can't get off my foot the way I need to, it ALWAYS hurts. ALWAYS. I tapered off the pain meds so I don't become a junkie and I'm going to have to go back on them because I can't sleep at night. It's not like I'm on narcotics or anything, I'm just not used to taking any kind of meds. I take small doses of ibuprofen only when needed. Even for my migraines. Not a fan of meds. To top it all off... I'm coming down with a cold and may or may not have a stomach bug. I've just decided that all of my bad luck is going to happen at the beginning of the year so the rest of my year can be grand.

Here's to a grand rest of the year!!

still breathing

Oh how I miss blogging... and having something interesting to say... or at least believing I have something interesting to say. I haven't blogged about my Grandmama they way I blogged about Tiffanie because this new loss is much deeper and more personal. I'm dealing with it differently. I promise you that I'm coming back to blog before too long. I think I used to be funny... or at least that my attempts at being funny were funny. Eventually you will have something fantastic to read. But for now I've got to get back to not grocery shopping, not picking up my clean clothes off the floor (somehow the dirty ones always end up in the right place), not washing my dirty car, and not reading my mail. I did miraculously manage to do my laundry and my ironing last night so I didn't look like a vagabond at the Domestic Violence Awareness Conference at a Community College this morning. And I held a successful and productive Parenting Group this evening. And I got to the bottom of a sticky situation and am prepared for my meeting with a rogue and irresponsible CPS case worker in the morning. But now it's time for bed.

This is what I'll be blogging about for the month of October.

Blame.

Why is it, that when a man's behavior is inappropriate, the woman is the one who feels guilty?

As a feminist, advocate, and activist, I have frequently expressed my outrage at the attacks on women that are blamed on them. It isn't fair. No matter who she is or what she does, no woman deserves to be disrespected, violated, or attacked. Or BLAMED.

I know this, I teach this, I live and breathe this. And yet...

I recently encountered a man who I found to be attractive, attentive, and charming. He was a ready conversationalist and I was happy to talk to someone interesting....

Until he wasn't anymore. And innuendo and filth were pouring out of him. I have never encountered anyone so straight-forwardly sleazy, at least no one that supposedly holds the same values as I do. Once he opened that gate, he didn't hold back at all. I was shocked. But I didn't act shocked, because that's what he wanted. I held my own, let it roll off my back, and extricated myself from the situation as soon as I could. With my pride and my composure intact.


Once I was home, I found myself feeling guilty. Even shameful. Guilty that I may have said or done something to provoke him and cause his behavior.

Why did I automatically put the blame on myself? I didn't do anything wrong. Why should I feel shame?

Because women have been made to feel shame for "tempting" men for eons. Inappropriate behavior from men is nearly always blamed squarely on the woman. And is the blame placed on her intellect? Her accomplishments? Her wit and charm? Her sense of humor? Her remarkable talents? Nope. It is placed on her anatomy. She is usually at fault merely for being female.

I've encountered this numerous times in my life. I was chastised and vilified on my mission when others expressed their feelings for me. I was always blamed. Of course I couldn't have gone there to do the work, I must only be there to catch a husband, since I couldn't get married any other way. This is how I was treated. I fought to hold my own, to earn the respect of those around me and to focus on the task at hand, and yet was considered half as committed while working twice as hard. I usually didn't even know I had "tempted" the individual until I was sat down with an anatomy book and lectured about how men got sick if and when they were repeatedly turned on with no outlet. This was my fault. I was watched. I was threatened with being "sent home." Because I am friendly, beautiful, and female. Apparently I was making young men sick left and right. The only thing I could have changed was the friendly part. I could try and hide the beautiful parts like millions of wounded women who have injured, mutilated, and hidden themselves in an effort at self-protection. Because they, like me, by virtue of being female have been blamed for the actions of someone else. I could have given up on my goals, given up the joy and passion that I experienced as a missionary, but instead I chose to fight. Not in a traditional sense. I did not go head to head with anyone. I merely worked harder, focused more, and proved that I was capable. The accusations still stung, they were still ever-present, but I let them roll off my back.

This is where I answer my own questions:

I blamed myself because I have been blamed by others. It was ingrained. I have been taught how to walk, talk, sit, stand, move, smile, dress, and breathe, so I would not tempt or distract a man. So I would not incite him to do something he shouldn't - by virtue of existing. I have been made to feel ashamed for being a woman. I feel outraged when it happens to others because I know what it feels like. I will call every filthy man out. I will never again allow someone else to make me feel ashamed of my body, my breasts, my smile, my personality, my vagina.

It is always easier to fight for others than it is to fight for ourselves.

Good News

So... I really am going to post some great stuff soon.... I hope. I don't hope it's great (I know it is), I hope it's soon. I have some great stuff on eating disorders and parenting and miscellaneous nonsense. Life is good and busy, I got promoted to the position of "Children's Specialist." I'm now part of the Admin team at the shelter and will be part of the on-call rotation starting in about 2 months. Basically to answer random questions at all hours of the night. The good news is that I'm making more money, doing work I LOVE with people I love and life is good. Starting next week, I'll be teaching the weekly parenting class and all of the various children's groups. I'm really excited. I've done a good bit of this for the past 2.5 years, but now my responsibilities are greater as well as my opportunity to help my clients. Whoopee! Oh yes, my Ritzy is moving here this weekend! That's the best part. I'll try really hard to get my good posts up this weekend and do some more work on my template.

Later!

The Greatest Day

It's taken me forever finally find the time to blog this. Two weeks ago I had the greatest day. There's a really great group of kids in the shelter right now. There are 8 of them and they're all between the ages of 5 and 11. They're all really funny and creative and when they found out my birthday was coming, they began covert operations. They asked for construction paper and balloons and spent hours in one of the rooms in the center "practicing" and making me keep out. Things at work have been really busy and I've been pulling double duty performing my regular job and half of the case management - So I knew full well these kids had something up their sleeves, but had been so busy I was taken by surprise when they sprung things on me. We'd just had art therapy and the kids and I were cleaning up when they told me to go in my office and don't come out until they said so. I went in my office and heard giggling and scurrying. One of the kids came in my office and told me to close my eyes and she led me out of the office. When I opened my eyes, the room was dark except for the glow of birthday candles and all of the kids and their moms and several other clients were singing "Happy Birthday" to me. I cannot describe how incredibly moved I was. It was a moment I'll remember for the rest of my life. I spend hours everyday listening to their fears and anguish and despair. I know how hopeless many of them feel. How hard it is for them to pick of the pieces and feel empowered and here they were singing to me. Have you ever heard that cheesy birthday song sung and honestly felt love? I have now. I've never experienced anything like it. When I blew out the candles, my wish had nothing to do with me. Then the kids led me into our large group room and sat all of the adults down and performed a play and a song that they had written just for me. It was honestly the best birthday I've ever had.

I originally started this post on April 14, but got side-tracked and forgot about it until today.

I don't aspire to be great. I aspire to be as useful as possible. I've recently been able to read and hear some of the stories and histories of the people I've descended from. They were humble and hard working and God-fearing and compassionate. Not wealthy or famous and I don't want those things either. They were the best kind of every-day-people. I seek to be comfortable in the way that I live, but not at the expense of others or our dear planet. I've had some beautiful and introspective days recently. I've taken the time to think about the things I seek. Through the hikes with my brother and sister and I'm finding that I seek nature. I love seeing new places and exploring and feeling the sun on my face. But that is not what this is about.

I want to share some thoughts with you that I posted on my other blog some time ago. This is some of what I have reflected on recently:

I believe that we create our own destinies. That this is what God wants for each of us. That our greatest and noblest hopes and dreams and desires for ourselves are the things that He sent us here to discover and make happen. He loves us so very much that He will help us become all of these things. The struggle is conquering fear, insecurity, inadequacy, self doubt. This is no small task. These things are powerful and come at us from every angle and every speed everyday. We have to stay close to Him and re-focus and remind ourselves everyday of our goals and dreams. And we have to find people with focus and love who are as determined to help us get there as we are for them.

My greatest and noblest hopes and dreams and desires for myself are these: I desire to change the world; I desire to be of service to mankind; To teach and inspire and help the people I come into contact with; I seek to know God and know that by serving Him, I will be blessed; I believe that those of us who seek to know God have a responsibility to serve and educate those around us, not only in the ways of God, but in the ways that will help them to reach their full potential in the world; I desire to raise children to be intelligent and kind and thoughtful and open minded and to instill in them the desire and ability to change the world every day; I desire to help women understand that the old idea of what "feminism" means is outdated and damaging; That you, as a woman, have a right to be absolutely everything that you want; That you do not have to apologize for any of your desires and that you must be true to yourself; I desire to tell all of the people in the world who want to judge me harshly that I forgive you, but that does not mean that I will not try to stop you and love you and educate you every single day of my life; I cannot and will not be put into your box; I am what I am and I change everyday and I hope you do too; I desire to learn as much every single day as is in my power to do.

I will no longer chastise myself for not being what I have been taught I must be in order to succeed and be happy.

I will succeed and be happy by taking each day and allowing it to be what it is meant to be instead of what I, or someone else may try to make it. At the same time, I will make each day as happy and beautiful and productive as I can and will allow myself to have as many bad days as I want or need.

I desire to marry someone who is intelligent, kind, thoughtful, devoted to God, committed to changing the world, unwilling to sit idly by while the world suffers; someone who understands my need for an egalitarian union. I need balance. I also understand that a perfect balance takes time and I am willing to put in the work.

I know that God knows my deepest desires and that as I ask, He will answer.

Check it

We are promoting an event at work called Denim Day and my city is celebrating it this Friday, April 6th. It's a rape prevention and education campaign. Check it out and if you feel so inclined, get involved.

Here's what it says on the website:


Italy, 1992
An 18-year old girl is picked up by her married 45-year old driving instructor for her very first lesson. He takes her to an isolated road, pulls her out of the car, wrestles her out of one leg of her jeans and forcefully rapes her. Threatened with death if she tells anyone, he makes her drive the car home. Later that night she tells her parents, and they help and support her to press charges. The perpetrator gets arrested and is prosecuted. He is convicted of rape and sentenced to jail.
He appeals the sentence. The case makes it’s all the way to the Italian Supreme Court. Within a matter of days the case against the driving instructor is overturned, dismissed, and the perpetrator released. In a statement by the Chief Judge, he argued, “because the victim wore very, very tight jeans, she had to help him remove them, and by removing the jeans it was no longer rape but consensual sex.”
Enraged by the verdict, within a matter of hours the women in the Italian Parliament launched into immediate action and protested by wearing jeans to work. This call to action motivated and emboldened the California Senate and Assembly to do the same, which in turn spread to Patricia Giggans, Executive Director of Peace Over Violence, and Denim Day in L.A. was born.

Get Involved!

A Landmark

Last week at work we toured a really incredible local social service facility . This facility houses 5 separate agencies, working together to serve victims of family violence. There are police detectives, counselors, social workers, forensic doctors, etc., all in one place to serve victims in a way that will help minimize the trauma of the process of reporting the crimes committed against them. There were 7 of us from the shelter and we were able to ask questions and to find new resources to provide to our clients.

Since no victims were present, we were able to go in and look around the on-site forensic medical facility where they examine victims of abuse and sexual assault.

The moment I walked in, the energy in there shook my insides.

There was so much fear and pain and despair in that place; it hit me like a shock wave and I immediately wanted to leave. I wondered if any of my co-workers were feeling the same, but no one was showing any obvious signs of it. We were shown the various offices and amenities and then we came to an exam room. No one would enter it. Our guide went inside and was explaining the high tech devices and the various methods of examination and no one could move. I then realized that I was far from alone in my feelings.

I stood there for a moment feeling all of this devastating heart-breaking energy, took a deep breath and felt these words, "This is not your pain. You do not have to fear it."

I realized that this is just another step along my journey. I have gained the ability to sympathise with and advise my clients without internalizing their grief. And now I am gaining the ability to face down fear and pain that does not belong to me so that I can help others work through it. In that moment, I felt my purpose in being in that place at that particular time and took a step. I went inside that exam room and in so doing quieted all the fear and pain swirling around me. I feel that I cannot adequately express this experience in words. It was a profound moment for me and I felt moved to share it.

I'm closer to determining my path. I find myself gathering information and looking into all of the various agencies that serve victims of family violence and the services they offer. I'm processing and pondering and praying. What my course of study will be is slowly starting to take shape. There are so many amazing options.

A Few Things...

I posted some new links in my sidebar. There is a website called Web of Friends that is looking for young adults to share their stories of dating violence as part of a new campaign to help teens. If you have ever experienced dating violence, (dating violence is not just physical abuse, it is also verbal abuse and manipulation among other things), and are comfortable telling your story, please go there and do so. You may save someones life.

I'm finally going to start research for a project I've been thinking about for a year or more. I want to prepare a presentation for young single adults on family and dating violence, especially in the various forms that are unique to my religious culture. This has nagged at me for a year, but I've put it off. It can't wait any longer. I now have a friend who I think could be a remarkable contributor, so I'm going to see if she is willing. I'll let you know how it goes.

I am looking into the various shelters and social service organizations in my area and looking for job openings...

And last but definitely not least, it's that time of year again!

I'm participating in the annual Walk to End Domestic Violence again. You are welcome to check out my page and even donate if you feel so inclined. At least check out the event and who will be served by it.

Click here for info about the 5th Annual Walk to End Domestic Violence.

Click here for my page.

Decisions, Decisions

I'm still weighing my options for school. I'm going to start at the beginning and see where I end up. I think I could serve the causes I feel the strongest about by helping the victims and the perpetrators of family violence. I especially want to help families, and as I've blogged about before, I have a gift with children. They will talk to me when no one else can get through. That's not a gift I can ignore. I was recently reading an article on one of my new favorite websites (thanks John) and thought about the kids that are living in detention facilities. It kills me. I work with kids who are living in safe and comfortable shelter and see first-hand the negative effects it has on them, so I can only imagine what is going on in the minds of children who are being held with their families in a place they cannot leave. Children need to be empowered in order to grow up with the ability to succeed and influence the world for good. When they are forced to live for weeks, months, or even years in places where their power has been taken, they will try to find ways to get that power back for the rest of their lives. And their methods may be destructive.

A feminist rant

I went to an Arts Festival yesterday. I really liked it. But I wasn't expecting the heat and got a little bit sunburned and found out that mineral makeup does have some SPF, but it's not terribly high. I wandered around with my mom and brother and couldn't help but notice - and I'm not generally very prudish when it comes to art - but I couldn't help but notice the abundance of female parts. It was a little alarming. And I'm not just talking about breasts - which were more than adequately represented - I'm talking about the more mysterious end. Now, I'm usually very opened minded when it comes to art, and can see the beauty in plenty of nude art, but I am dead set against the exploitation of women and their mysteries. Or of men and their mysteries for that matter. And I don't use the word mystery because I am naive about anatomy or think bodies are mysterious, but because I'm trying to be polite. In this age where anything goes, we allow people to cheapen things that are beautiful and special and sacred in the name of art or freedom of expression. I'm not about to advocate taking any one's freedom away, I just ask that you not set up your exploitative genitalia sculptures in a public place. Keep them in a private gallery where I don't have to see them and we'll be alright.

My brother and I were discussing this as we were walking along and I pointed out that there were absolutely no artistic representations of male mysteries anywhere to be found. And not only that, but a particularly graphic sculptor had male figures and female figures done in the same style, but the male figures were carved with speedo-like coverings and the female figures were fully exposed. Why? I happen to think that the female body is very beautiful, but did he create them this way because he thinks the female is more beautiful than the male? Or was it because in his heart of hearts he has less respect for the female form than the male?

Another artist had all-female sculptures where the heads and torsos were shrunken, but the more mysterious regions were enormous. I couldn't help but comment that if someone had sculpted male forms in the same manner, there would be no way that they would be allowed to exhibit at a famous festival. They would be criticized for being too inappropriate and/or erotic among other things.

I'm tired of the abundance of double standards in the world. I've always loved romantic comedies in spite of myself. But I'm noticing a pattern: the strong, interesting, funny, usually very successful woman who can't find a man/they meet/they have conflict/she changes herself or gives up something she loves or sells out in some way or settles all in the name of marriage/she wins him/they live happily? ever after. And the man is usually represented as being some incredible catch - usually it's mostly just because he's single. Um, hello?

I was talking with my cousin Brandon last night about a girl he just started dating and he asked me how a beautiful, intelligent, out-going, educated, interesting, and strong willed woman makes it to 30 without so much as a proposal. (He says she reminds him of me. ;) And I told him what I've experienced in my own life and stories I've heard in the shelter.

Men have told me that they are drawn to my spunk - my forthright manner and my strong personality. But this has also been what turns them off. Initially they think it's great, but then they realize that this isn't my catch-a-man-personality that I only pull out on the weekends. What you see is what you get. Then they run away. Suckers.
Women in the shelter have told me that they "used to be" spunky, strong, independent, funny... and that is what drew their husbands/boyfriends to them. So why did these men beat these qualities out of them?

I don't know!

We all know men who date younger women because they are malleable (creeps). We all know that there are control freaks who victimize timid women (evil bastards). But I know there are plenty of great guys out there. I am hopeful! But I still don't get it. If you have any insight, please let me know.

Here's my old list from a post I wrote in 12/2004, but it still applies. Here goes:

"What I require from a partner in a relationship are the things I require of myself. I may not meet all of these requirements, but there is a goal or a desire, and that's important too.

1. Faith. Not just belief. Belief + Action = Faith. Faith is an action word. Just like love. It's so much more than just professing to believe or to love, you must act on these things. I know that if you have true faith, you have a capacity for true love. Whether you realize it yet or not.

2. Passion. Please be passionate about something. What drives you, motivates you, inspires you? It can be me, but it needs to be something else too.

3. Integrity. Be a man of your word. Mean it, say it, do it, be it. Be true to me and true to yourself and it'll be all good.

4. Loyalty. Respect my trust and confidences. Once I let you in, you're really in and there is nothing worse than a betrayal of confidence.

5. Adoration. If you don't absolutely adore me, please don't waste my time.

6. Independence. Please be yourself. Keep being yourself. People change in relationships, just don't try too hard to meet anyone else's expectations - especially mine.

7. Tact. Ok, I know ya'll are thinking about all the times I've belched out loud or announced a fart, but I'm talking about true tact. Knowing how to act in every situation so that the people around you feel respected, confident, secure. Knowing when to speak up, step in, bow out, or clam up. Skill and grace when dealing with others.

8. Unconditional Love. None of this, "If only you would...were...did..." Either you love someone or you don't. Love isn't conditional. Don't ask me to be something I'm not and I'll return the favor. "

I'm done with this rant for now. Feel free to share your insight into my ramblings.

Happy International Women's Day!

Paths

Here is somewhat of an explanation of my current path, trust me, this is abridged.

I came to the realization that throughout all of my struggles of late, I have consistently found solace and peace at work. There were days on end when I was sure I could not get out of bed and face another day at that school, but I was always able to go to work. I found that I deeply resented that school for taking the energy that I wanted to give the women and children in the shelter. My sister said to me one day that if I didn't look forward to getting up every morning and going to that school, that I probably shouldn't be there. So I prayed and pondered. Earnestly. I looked deeply inside and evaluated my intention. I realized that my truest intention in going to cosmetology school was to provide a way for me to help other women. Some of the most profound experiences of my life have occurred as I have helped another woman to recognize her true beauty. So I naturally concluded that I needed to learn mainstream techniques for discovering beauty so that I could impart this knowledge to my fellow sisters. What I discovered is that real, true beauty comes from inside. We've all heard this and it sounds cliché; but believe me, it gains substance when you see it in action.

Beauty is seeing a woman lift her eyes and feel capable for the first time. Beauty is seeing a mother who has endured humiliating abuse humble herself even further and accept help from strangers in rearing her children. Beauty is a child who has known nothing but cruelty and fear; help another child who is new to shelter; it’s seeing them encourage each other and hold each other’s hands and show deep kindness.

In the past 2 years that I've worked at the shelter, I've considered leaving on several occasions to find a job where I can make more money. Whenever this has happened, my heart has told me that I can leave if I want, but that it will stay behind. I will eventually leave this particular shelter, but only when a better position at another program becomes available. I will advocate for victims of family violence as long as I live.

This summer, I'm going to start taking classes that interest me, focusing particularly on writing and women’s studies. I want to continue to work as a direct advocate for DV victims - and as a writer – to tell their stories and give them a voice. As far as a major goes, I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it. I’ll keep ya’ll posted.

Victory

I know A Woman.

A Woman endured abuse from the time she was small.
(When all you know is abuse, it is only natural to marry an abuser.)

A Woman sought shelter with her child.

A Woman was a quiet shadow - a church mouse.

A Woman was full of apologies.

A Woman’s eyes were filled with pain.

A Woman’s body was tense with self protection.

A Woman was unsure.

A Woman was afraid.

A Woman was apologetic. I'm so sorry, so very sorry.

A Woman had done nothing wrong.

Months passed.

A Woman kept her head and eyes down.

A Woman shed painful tears.

A Woman felt fear as tangible as her bruises.

A Woman received encouragement.

A Woman’s self doubt was suffocating.

A Woman allowed others to plant seeds for her and trusted they would grow.

A Woman steadily, steadily grew.

A Woman slowly lifted her head, but not her eyes.

A Woman accepted praise, (but only a little).

A Woman trusted the safety and intention of her environment.

A Woman breathed deeply.

A Woman accomplished her goals.

A Woman lifted her eyes.

Glory!

A Woman met my gaze, (and my heart nearly burst with pride).

A Woman has slowly come back to herself, (and maybe found herself for the first time).

A Woman’s eyes no longer search the faces around her anticipating cruelty.

A Woman no longer speaks of the man she feared in whispers.

A Woman faces a custody battle.

A Woman fights a war for the child she loves and the Woman she has become.

A Woman returned from a preliminary hearing. “He did a character assassination.”

I anticipated a look of fear and ready tears.

A Woman met my eye and smiled. “I don’t think the judge likes him very much.”

A Woman pointed out the flaws and weaknesses in him that she had been blind to before.

A Woman Laughed at his ridiculousness.

A Woman Laughed I tell you!

Heaven be Praised!

I laughed with her.

My soul sang a hearty Hallelujah.

The verdict is not in.

But A Woman has won.

She has won.

I weep happy tears.

These victories are hard earned and too few.

A Woman will never return.

And that is A Woman’s greatest Victory.

Doorkeepers

Today during an art therapy session with the kids at work, we began talking about our names and what they mean. I looked up the meaning of each child’s first and last name. It was interesting to find that they all had powerful names. They loved and were empowered by this activity. When I told them that my last name meant “doorkeeper,” they wanted to know why people had certain last names. So I explained about how what your ancestors did, who their parents were, or where they were born usually determined their last name. I explained that I’d been told when I was young that my ancestors were the keepers of the gate or drawbridge. That it was their responsibility to make sure enemies did not enter the town or castle, depending on where they lived and that this was a very important job. The kids thought it was cool and we talked about the cool things their ancestors probably did based on their names. The volunteer who does the art therapy (an absolutely phenomenal lady) said she found the meaning of my name ironic considering the type of work I do and the level of my commitment to protect battered women. This never occurred to me and I love the parallel. As I was getting ready to leave today, I helped another staff check the premises and to make sure a particular batterer that has been hanging around of late (he’s obviously unaware that his wife is long gone) was nowhere to be seen. I stood in the front of the building with my head high and my body language strong and surveyed the street and the parking lot across the street. I also checked the rearview mirror of my car as I drove home to check for followers. Three days ago I did this fearfully; today I did this as a precaution, but confidently and without fear. I will not be victimized by someone else’s perpetrator. I’ve made a commitment that I will never betray these women, even with a gun to my head. This is what I have to say to that man and others like him.

Dear Coward,

I am writing to tell you that we are not afraid. You see finding her as a victory. We see it as a confirmation of your lack of control. While you fester in your car across the street, we are not intimidated. Unawares, you have given your power away. We know what you look like, the make and model of your car, your license plate number. So do the local police. You never should have exposed yourself to us. We do not fear you. You think your presence so close is formidable and frightening. We are laughing at you. Because you see, she is gone; removed while you lay in bed dreaming dark and dangerous thoughts. By the time you had taken up your wicked vigil, she was beyond your grasp. We will always be one step ahead of you. Our advantage is that we understand the nature of the demon that grips your heart and soul. While you are consumed and blinded, we see it clearly. We study it, shame it; throw light in its eyes. We take women from its grasp and expose it in all its ugliness until it loses its grip; becomes benign and ridiculous. We in turn teach your children to recognize it, understand it and take its power away. While it eats you alive, they are moving forward, finding light and joy and POWER; the thing you crave. We are not afraid of your cowardice. It is our light and joy and goodness that empower us to approach you, heads held high, gaze steady to ask you what the hell business you have here. A simple question. Why do you speed away? We will never fear you; even when you threaten murder. We will never fear you, whether you sit yards away or miles away; stewing in your evil and casting wicked glances our way. We keep this gate and no one enters without our permission.