Tuesday, February 9, 2016

V-Day Gratitude

The first time I ever met my friend Sherry, she looked at me and asked pointedly, “When are you going to talk about it?”

My heart hit my stomach, a bass drum booming loudly there in my gut, even as I gave her the confused what-are-you-talking-about look. 

She gave me the Sherry-side eye (patent pending) and just answered,”Un huh.”

But it was clear to me that she knew.  SHE KNEW!  That deepest ugliest thing I had buried beyond reach.  But how?  Just how? 

She would share her story.  In response, my own would tumble out and that is how it would begin. 
I would ask her later how she knew that first day.  She would shrug and say, “You can read it on their faces.”  I grilled her and she came to the conclusion that it’s an energy that people carry around, an energy that other survivors respond to and recognize.   I noticed how many women were drawn to her, how many she coaxed to share their secrets and I pondered if she could see it on my face, might someone else, someone less well-intentioned also be able to read it? 

Was that energy signature a magnet to abusers?  Did that explain why they always knew who to choose?  Did my rapist choose me because of that signature?  More importantly – how might I get rid of that energy stamp?

That question would occupy my life for the next twenty years, would brutalize me as I pushed through boundary after boundary.  But today, looking back, I see how far I have come.  I am proud of that journey - every motherfucking step of it.  And I am grateful to Sherry for seeing through me to the truth and helping me begin.  

Mean Girls Are Never Pretty

Mom's sojourn in Memory Care ended when she could no longer stand and became what they term a 2-assist.  She transitioned to Skilled C...