Enough is Enough

WARNING: Rant ahead!

The accusations of sexual abuse and misconduct rife in our politics today has brought many women to a place of courage that they have been searching for most of their lives. Announcing to the world that you are a victim of sexual abuse is not an easy or pleasant thing to undertake, even if that abuse happened 20, 30, 40 years ago. Such abuse never, ever leaves you. It scars you and feeds into who you become, how you interact with the world for the rest of your life.

People ask questions like: "Why didn't you report it at the time?" and "Why did it take so long for you to come forward with your accusations?" The simple answer is: "Take a look in the mirror and tell me how you feel about me making these accusations today." Their answer will be suspicion and disregard for anything the woman has to say. *She* becomes the target of investigation. *She* becomes the slut who drank at a party and was asking to be raped. *Her* life is torn open and flayed on the floor of public opinion while he gets the "boys will be boys" treatment. *This* is why women don't come forward.

After a sexual attack -- be it rape or attempted rape -- the only thing a woman wants is to forget, to erase the feel of the man touching her, to gloss over what happened to the point of even suppressing the memory. The last thing most victims want is to recount what happened to the police (who are usually male) or go to the ER for treatment where they'll be dehumanized further by being exposed to an exam and possibly a rape kit. Reporting a rape is the last thing a victim wants.

So, when something occurs later in her life that brings that event back vividly, it is *normal* to want to speak up. Perspective grants clarity and desperation can grant courage to face that attacker, to bring the event into the light so that someone with that kind of temperament doesn't end up in a place of power or influence. Say, like the US Supreme Court. Clarence Thomas has been sitting on the Court for 26 years as of 2018. Anita Hill stepped forward to tell the nomination board that Thomas sexually assaulted her and she was turned into a raving harpy by the men hearing her testimony. Had she been making her accusations today, I don't think the public would doubt her at all.

Since so many women have come forward in recent years (whether the subject is Bill Cosby or Donald Trump), I think the sheer number of victims coming forward is its own proof that there is a "boys club" attitude in this country that insists "boys will be boys" and "girls need to shut up and do what they were put on this earth to do".

There are supposed Christian leaders spewing this attitude, that boys are just young and full of hormones and if a girls doesn't want to be attacked she should stay home with her knees glued together and not venture out in the world where men deserve to be men. Apparently that includes rape as a "normal" thing. There are no repercussions for "boys" (I'm not sure a 17 year-old is still a boy) who perpetrate these crimes, no consequences. And that teaches them that it's okay. That behavior, having been given the stamp of approval by a bunch of old men, then becomes normalized and these males who attack women when they're young end up having no respect for women when they grow older.

Dozens and dozens of women I know have spoken up on Facebook and Twitter. They've said #MeToo. They've said #EnoughIsEnough. Why are they speaking up now? Because they're not alone anymore. We all know women who've been assaulted. If this was anything but a crime against women, the entire world would have put a stop to it by now. But because it *is* a crime against women, it doesn't seem to matter.

I have experienced this myself. I have personally seen how a male's needs/wants superseded my own only on the basis of gender. *He* was more important than me, a mere girl/woman. But it always rubbed me the wrong way. I knew, even when I was a naive and innocent child, that it was wrong that I was bullied and abused and disregarded. It didn't seem to matter much that I was terminally shy because I had learned not to trust men. I wasn't as important as the male involved. His needs, desires, wants absolutely came before mine.

That shyness turned into major trust issues with men, issues I have to this day and I'm 59 years old. I still haven't spoken to anyone about what happened to me when I was young. I probably never will. And so I seem odd, a bit antisocial and weird to others. They can't understand why I don't have a life mate, why I live alone and always have since I was 19. *This* is why. I have no trust of men in general and for very, very few in specific. To an extent, I'm afraid of men -- not physically as much as emotionally. My mind pulls up all those ridiculous lessons I learned as a child: I'm a female so I don't matter.

But When You Get There...

When I was in my 20s, I had two cervical spine surgeries. When I was in my 40s, I had a third (see other blog posts). At the time those first two surgeries happened, I was told that I'd have problems when I got older; possibly arthritis, muscle issues, nerve damage issues, etc. When I was in my 20s, that seemed so very far off that it had no meaning whatsoever.

But, now that I've reached that point -- that "when you're older" point -- everything seems to be falling in on my head at the same time. Physically speaking. Which, of course, has more mental and emotional consequences than my younger self ever could have imagined.

I also have Rheumatoid Arthritis. There are complications with treating that because of my other physical issues. RA has intensified all those "when you're older" issues. It's somewhat like adding water and glue to newspaper; you get something that's kinda mushy that doesn't have a clear form on its own. If that makes sense. In other words, it's confusing and extremely complicated to manage all these different physical problems.

I have handfuls of doctors. My friend, Taerie, says I have a "pit crew"! I do. I have so many different doctors that it's like wrangling cats some days.

So, life is filled with doctor appointments and tests and therapy and treatments and just trying to take care of myself while trying to live as "normal" a life as I can. And it's bloody hard. Every day is hard. Even on "good" days it's hard. It's demoralizing and dispiriting and aggravating and depressing and frustrating. To put it mildly.

I'm a strong person. I think I would have been no matter what came my way in life, but what actually did come my way made it imperative that I be strong or die, and I mean that literally. That I'm strong now often makes feeling weak, feeling needy or small or young or lost or in pain seem like something I can't feel, that I shouldn't feel. Because I'm "strong". I understand that the strongest thing you can do is admit when you're weak. I understand that. But doing that is another matter.

Today, I feel weak. I feel needy and small and young and lost. It's been a long day. It's been a day of decisions and acting on those decisions. It's been about entering a new phase in taking care of my teeth. I'll be starting Invisaline within the next month or so to try to save my 3 front upper teeth that have slowly been moving apart and loosening over the past few years. They wiggle ever so slightly -- which is wonderful when I have them cleaned. If I don't do something now, I will definitely lose those teeth. Then I'd have to look into implants and I may not have enough bone there for implants. Not to mention implants cost a fortune -- Invisaline cost their own fortune. So, I made that decision, which wasn't easy. This will most probably increase my pain to new levels which, you know, JOY. Not. And the orthodontist and my pain doctor agree that it will likely take me longer than the projected 18 months to go through the entire treatment; I may have to take more time with each stage than a "normal" person might. Again, I am so full of joy. Not.

While this may not seem like a huge step, for me it's a very, very large step. It's opening myself to more unpleasant physical and emotional stress; it's opening myself to more pain. I live at about a 7-out-of-10 pain level. This potentially can kick that number up significantly. I've been hesitant and anxious about this and am not less anxious than I was before I chose to do this. It may all turn out to be no big deal -- let us hope. But, on the other hand...

My patience is gone today. I'm aggravated by everything. I've chosen to shut myself up in my lovely air conditioned bungalow, ignore the phone, leave the TV off and just read. I can't really take any extra pain meds because it's already 6:00 pm and I have an early morning tomorrow (I'm usually hung over the morning after taking pain meds this late) for physical therapy and an ultrasound of my abdomen because my liver enzymes are high and we can't figure out why. No, I do not drink. At all. It's likely a side effect of one of my many, many medications.

So, this post is mainly for me to bitch and moan. Thanks anyone who read this in full.