The Evolution Allocution

Note:  this was written the weekend following Dr. Ford’s testimony

So I’ve been posting a lot about Dr. Ford lately on Facebook.  It’s not a situation I enjoy talking about. But I am. I am because her situation is similar to mine. I’ll be clear here: I believe Dr. Ford. She offers nearly the exact same level of recollection and proof that I would be able to furnish from my own assault. So as I look through facebook, what do I see? I see people impeaching her character. And folks, I’m taking notes here. I am here to tell you: The only difference between the “prove-ability” of her story and mine, and her credibility and mine, is that you know me. I guarantee you that Dr. Ford also has people who know her, and are mystified as to how she could not be taken seriously.

And no, I don’t care how your politics fit in here. I can tell you exactly how many whits I care about that. It’s Zero. I do not care what Republican said what. I do not care what Democrat said what. What I care about: Someone who is accused of doing something similar to what I still carry emotional scars about, and someone who has repeatedly lied to the judiciary committee in this and previous hearings, and someone who obviously is partisan in his opinions, and is not measured in his reactions, is seriously being considered for a judicial body that has direct authority over my body. The bottom line is: Brett is doing whatever he can to get the job he wants. He will say and do whatever dishonest thing will get him this job. And a man that will do that will do whatever he wants with a woman’s body – physically or through laws passed or overturned in a court system.

A quick primer here: Appropriate responses to a woman sharing that she was assaulted include (but could certainly be positively expanded on!) “I am so sorry that happened to you.” “If you need to talk, I’m here.” “Truth.” “Society needs to do better.” Or, my favorite – “Do you need a hug?” Even “I believe you.” Can be loaded with peril for you if you put a rider on it, like ‘I know you, I know you’re telling the truth” because that takes away from what happened and actually makes it about YOU. That phrase literally becomes “I know I’m credible, so my credibility transfers to you.” And chances that this person’s assault had anything to do with you, I sincerely hope, is ZERO. What harm does it do you to just believe your friend?

An appropriate compassionate response does not include claiming other things are worse or ensuring your own experience (or thereby theirs when it gets caught up in the conversation) becomes politicized in the process of discussion. In fact, if you are friends with this person or care about them, nothing but shows of sympathy are appropriate. If you care about someone, a statement such as “I was assaulted” is a hard stop. Put aside your damn politics. Your arguments don’t matter.

Again. Basic Recap: Hard. Stop.

I had the pleasure of spending Saturday evening and Sunday surrounded by an amazing group of women (which included my two amazing sisters). These women saw my pain, and summarily surrounded me in a circle of protection I am overwhelmingly grateful for. I know some of them are pro-Brett. But you see, none of that mattered, because they are all, summarily, Pro JJ. They saw me visibly shaken and upset. They saw me distracted and disoriented. They knew the hours of sleep that I was able to get Saturday night was less than the number of fingers on one hand before a huge day on Sunday. And, as one of them said, they surrounded me with love, and made an impenetrable wall where I could heal and not be hurt again. I didn’t hear one Pro-Judge statement this weekend from them. I just felt love. They rebuilt me from the bottom up when I needed them to with simple sympathy and acceptance. And they had hugs.

They see something important: This isn’t about politics for most women. This is a personal raging battle that we don’t have a choice but to fight. Every Day. And our battle never ends. We don’t get to rest.

So if you see a post, stop to think: What’s triggering it? Think it’s no big deal? Remember reading in the paragraph above how I felt this weekend? Think it was recent enough for that to be fresh in my memory? My assault happened when I was 19. So…show some compassion, and ask yourself this question before you respond:

Is your political opinion more important than what is/could be your friend’s assault?

1 out of 5 women will be raped or seriously assaulted before she dies. Make a list of all the women you know. Count and divide by 5. Go ahead – pick some. Which ones are they? Unless we all change now, you’ll have to divide by 4 later. Which ladies on your list will get added? I guarantee you that one in five on your list is an actual victim. Just because you don’t know doesn’t mean it didn’t happen to them.

And if you’re considering posting anything political or argumentative after this post (other than posts about how we need to strengthen our laws and ability to govern to protect victims more), ask yourself “is that the last facebook post I ever want her to see me make?”

Because I guarantee you, it will be.

And to my fabulous ladies this weekend: I’ll dance it out with you anytime.

So yeah, life change is awesome,  Goal this time:  Change life so you don’t have to change it again.

We all know that person.  the one with the amazing self control.  They never drink.  They never eat sugar.  Their houses are pristinely clean at all times.  They never need to change or improve because they are intent on living the perfect life.  They are the person that makes us feel bad about ourselves – if we could just be more like xxx, our lives would be great.

But we’re human. We fail.  And failure is quite honestly one of the most beautiful things in the world.  I could argue all day that failure leads to success, but I’d be wrong.  Failure IS success.  Backwards?  Totally.  But not really.  Humor me.

I fail every day.  That is, my body fails.  I have Fibromyalgia.  I’ve had it since I was 14.  (that’s officially several years longer than I care to count, I digress). If you don’t know what Fibro is, google it.  It’s the strangest thing.  Pain without reason.  Accompanying syndromes.  Flu, colds, bugs, they all hit me harder than they hit the average person.  When you have Fibro, life changes.  Attitudes can change too – and that’s when you get in trouble.

It’s easy to feel sorry for yourself every day with this…honestly, I don’t even know what to call it?  A disease?  It certainly doesn’t seem like it.  A syndrome?  Maybe, but that sounds a little shrink-y.   Plague?  Dramatic.  Let’s just say it’s easy to feel sorry for yourself with this, and leave it at that.  I have been exceptional at keeping my attitude great, and staying reasonably healthy.  Until one of those freaking accompanying syndromes got me.  It turns out, your colon doesn’t like to be messed with, twisted, pulled, or irritated.  Your intestines don’t care for it either, honestly.  For a couple of years, I couldn’t get away from the pain.  My doctor and I decided to take the gamble that endometriosis was causing my issues, and we decided on a drastic course of action.  It was either try not to pass out from pain every time I bent at the waist, or have surgery.  I had a hysterectomy.  During the surgery, she did indeed find that my colon and intestines were in positions that nature did not intend them to be.  This was my cure.

Post surgery, my mom and sister went home, and I complained to the nurse that my abdomen didn’t feel right.  She told me to buck up.  A while later, she came back to take my blood pressure, I said I felt like I was going to pass out.  I woke up with the crash team around my bed, doing that terrible sternum rub (don’t let yourself get there, kids….that hurts…).  I was informed I had a bleed in my abdomen and I needed an emergency second surgery.  My doctor was en route back to the hospital in rush hour traffic, and I needed help now.  I signed the form and lost consciousness again.  I woke up on the ride to the OR.  Out again.  Woke up in the OR, when they were transferring me to the table.  I heard my doctor’s distinctive voice, saying “I’ve got you.”

I woke up later feeling terrible.  I’ve never been so tired and weak in my life.  My sister looked very worried and relieved I was awake.  The best man for my brother’s wedding had seen a facebook post asking for prayers for me, and had joined my sister at the hospital (you never forget those little things).  I was in the hospital for a week.  Transfusions are a good thing when you need them. So is sleep.  My television didn’t work in my hospital room, and I didn’t know it until the day before I checked out.  After I got home, I spent 5 weeks laying on my couch.  Everything took a tremendous amount of energy.  I climb 9 stairs to get from my bedroom to my living room.  It’s sad when you have to stop halfway and rest.

Fibro isn’t so bad.  I’ll take it.

December 2016 (and the two years leading up to it) totally made me re-evaluate pain and suffering from a new perspective.  I lost my happy.  I failed myself with the one thing I thought I could control (HA!) – my brain.  I lost myself, and once you lose yourself, it turns out sometimes you’re hard to find again.  A devil you conquer once is gone – you hope.  If the devil finds you again, it comes back stronger.

And that’s when my greatest weakness became my strength.  I decided to use my pain to fuel my life.  My pain brings me my compassion.  My pain brings me my open ears and my willing heart.  My pain helps me see others from a different perspective.  I don’t see people for their appearance, their faults, or their success – I see them for their spirit.  I see them for what they do with their pain, because I know what I do with mine.

I look at my friends, and I see amazing people – and I realize that I tend to surround myself with the people who have a devil or two on their back, and fight like hell to beat it down.  They do it with grace, they do it with humor.  And for those people – the devil fighters – I would go to the end of the world and back.

I wrote a little bit above about my attitude.  How do I get up every day and fight my devils?  With a smile.  Literally.  When I hurt, I compliment.  I reach out.  I show compassion.  I make a joke (usually at my own expense…if you can’t laugh at yourself….).  I throw myself into something for the greater good.  Because doing that heals me.  And it is amazing what your mind can overcome.  My pain melts away, and I go about my day.

If you’re still reading, thanks.  If you pulled a “skip to the end”, lemme sum up:  girl hurts, girl hurts a lot.  girl almost dies.  woman fights back.  warrior wins.

I know what it is to struggle every day.  I reach out, because I hope no one will ever feel alone in their struggle.

As a result, I’m that friend.  I’m that friend you call when you need a pick me up.  I’m that call you make when you don’t know where to turn.  I’m that friend that hops in her car (or even a plane) when you need her.  Because I’ve seen what feeling good can do for me, and I want that for you.  For everyone.  And when you can’t fight on your own, I’ll be your warrior until you’re ready to take over.

And friends, I always win.

Tomorrow is my “back to the gym” day, and I am in full on warrior mode.  I should just start complimenting people now…