It's Not Ok, It's RAPE

Society has let me down, yet again. I'm extremely irritated, upset, angered, etc. Let me explain my anger. Yesterday an op-ed piece in our local newspaper was brought to my attention. It was one of the pieces in the Religion section and honestly, that's a section I never read. What the article boiled down to was that the gentleman writing it believed that rape within marriage was not something that was real. If you are married, you have sex with your wife. This brought about a lot of responses that my blogging friends are writing on their blogs as well as to the newspaper and author. The author supports his view that the word of a woman is not enough to establish rape.
This whole debate reminded me of a button I had seen a while ago. It stated something to the effect of "It's sad in a society where we teach our girls how not to get raped instead of teaching our boys NOT TO RAPE". It's true and makes me sad. Why is it that as a woman, my rights are affected by how I dress, wear my hair, do my makeup, etc.? Now, I'm not saying that men don't get raped or get affected by it, but it seems to be a predominantly female problem and since I'm a female, I am writing from that perspective.
The problem in our society is that rape is a joke to most people. Young men think it's fun to take home drunk, blacked out girls from the bar and take advantage of them. That's not fun, it's rape. Young men think it's okay to force themselves on a woman even when she's made it clear that she doesn't want to have sex because well, of course she wants it, she's just playing coy. That's not okay, that's rape. Men think it's fine that because you are in a relationship with someone, or living with them, that it's okay to rip their clothes off and have your way with them whenever you'd like. That's NOT FINE, that's RAPE. If a woman tells you no, or isn't in the right mind frame to say yes, IT'S RAPE. I don't care if you're married, living together, or just met, it's rape. I know because it happened to me.
I remember going out one night with a friend, I got too drunk and was dropped off at an ex boyfriend's house. This was someone I trusted with my life, he was a good man and I thought, I'm drunk and unable to get home, he'll take care of me. The next thing I remember, I'm coming out of a blackout and someone is on top of me. I cried, kept saying no, but it didn't change anything. I've never felt worse in my life. Of course, the next day I went to get the morning after pill and told my boyfriend at the time what happened. I was extremely torn up about the situation and was unsure what to do. On one hand, I trusted this person, he was someone who had always been there for me. On the other, I had been taken advantage of in a way that I couldn't even begin to try to explain to anyone who hasn't been there. Yet, I will try.
All our lives, girls are taught that your private parts are sacred. In my family, your sexual pleasure spot is a gift in which you give to your husband on your wedding day. It's the most precious gift you could ever give to someone. Now, anyone who knows me knows that obviously, I don't have this special gift to give to my future husband since I already have children. But when you are raised with the mind frame that this certain part of you is sacred, it gives you a sense of power. When someone comes along and they TAKE it from you, they don't ask, or request, just TAKE, you feel powerless. Your sense of self, safety, faith, everything fades away and all that you are left with is a shell of who you are.
With this in mind, I felt powerless afterward. I confessed to my boyfriend at the time and asked for his help or advice on how to proceed. Do you know what he did? He accused me of cheating on him. He. Accused. Me. Of. Cheating. On. Him. Just wanted to spell it out in case anyone was mistaken. All of a sudden, I started questioning myself, did I cheat? Was it my fault? Because I chose to stay over there when I was drunk, should I have expected sex? Because I was dressed sexy from going out with girlfriends was I inviting him to do what he wanted with me? Why hadn't I seen it coming? Oh my, I must have been asking for it. Now, logically, looking back, that wasn't the case. Yet, he made me feel as though I had done something wrong and therefore, it was my fault I had been raped. I never reported it because if my own boyfriend didn't believe me, how would law enforcement?
My heart hurts when I think back on that day. A part of me died during that incident that will never be alive again. I felt like an object, something for man's enjoyment. I didn't feel like a person. Now, I'm all for sexual liberation and having power over your body and having as much sex as you'd like. I have no problem with people who choose to sleep around and do whatever they want with whoever they want. Yet, when you walk through the bar and you see men lined up at the end of the night scoping out the drunkest chick so they can take her home, that's disgusting to me. It makes me sick. I enjoy having power over my body and using it in a way that I appreciate. If I choose to have intercourse with someone, that is my CHOICE. When that choice is taken away from me, I'm not alright with that.
Please, let's teach our sons to respect women. Let's teach them that a woman is a sacred, beautiful creature that deserves to be treated like one. Let us stand together as a society and say NO, it's NOT okay to rape in ANY circumstance. Every single person has a right to choose what they do with their body. A woman should be able to be in a relationship, dress as scantily as she likes, or trust a man to be alone with her without forcing his junk into hers. Let's start with our sons, teach them to respect women, then we can start teaching our daughters to respect themselves.

I Admit It, I Actually Need a Man...

I realized today that there are actually perks to having a boyfriend or live in male roommate, both of which I have recently lost. I'm not very handy when it comes to solving "men" problems. I'd like to think of myself as independent, but really, I'm pretty dependent. I need someone to help take care of me. My dad taught me how to change the oil in my car and change over a tire, but the complicated stuff, I'm lost.
For example, today I locked my keys in my car. Not only my car key, but my house key as well. Now, at my house I have my remote unlocker thingy that comes with your keys when you buy your vehicle, but I'm responsible and lock my house when I leave. Therefore, I am now officially locked out of my car and my house. I could call a tow company and they could unlock it for pretty cheap, but I'm broke, so spending money is something I don't care to do. When I used to lock my keys in my car in the past, I had a boyfriend who came to me with a wire hangar and would unlock my car for me. That was a nice perk. Now, I have to depend on...well, myself.
I also have a clog in my bathroom sink. Drano doesn't work very well. When I had a male roommate and got a clog, he used his magic with some tools and the pipes and voila! the clog was fixed. Or my light went out in my bedroom and I'm a pretty short girl without movable chairs or any stools, when I had a male roommate, he would change it for me. Now, I've gotta do that stuff.
Also, I have issues with my car and some parts are going out. I don't know anything about axles and joints and such things. When I had a boyfriend, he took a ride with me around the block, pinpointed what was wrong based on sounds and told me what part to buy, then fixed it. I don't know how to do those things. My car is a complete mystery to me. All I know is that it sounds funny and things are beeping at me. And if you know me at all, you know that I can't drive worth crap, so there's ALWAYS something wrong with my car.
Now I'm not saying that I like a man to do everything for me, I like being as independent as possible. BUT, it's nice when I don't know something for someone to teach me how. I can appreciate that I'm not handy and if you show me how to do something, I'm willing to learn. All I'm saying is that if I was never appreciative of having a man around before, I most definitely am now. I am officially now NOT one of those women who state, "I don't need no man". I know I need one, in any capacity: boyfriend, best friend, roommate. It really doesn't matter.

One of Many Letters to My Daughter

Preface : I heard a song that stated "what will I say when my daughter asks why I didn't marry her mother" today. It made me think about what I would say when my own daughter asks one day why her father and I were never married and if we ever loved each other. I have been wanting to write the story down so that she will understand the good and know that there was a love there, it wasn't all hurt. We were happy at some points in time and I didn't want the truth getting erased through time. So here is my letter to her. Here is my side of what happened. I left out the gory stuff that I have gone into detail on in other posts. I don't want her to see her dad in a horrible light unless he shows that side to her. I want her to make that judgment on her own. So here is a letter to my daughter regarding why her father and I just didn't work out.

Dearest Kynedi,

As you grow up, I know that you'll have questions about why your father and I aren't together, why we never married, and why you have two families. If you ask him, the story will probably have a lot more fiction than truth. Before time gets away from me and I start adding in a little fiction as well, I have to share the story with you. It's not an easy one for me to share because I made mistakes, as did your father. We aren't perfect, as much as I'd like you to believe that I am. The important thing is that I learned from my mistakes and can honestly say that I am a better person for them. I don't regret anything that happened because if I did, it would mean I regret you, and I could never ever do that.
The beginning. Ah well, I suppose that would be when I first saw your father. I was working at a credit union's call center and he transferred over from a branch. You may not see it now, but back then, he was definitely a looker. Since he didn't realize how casual the attire was in the call center, he showed up the first few days in collared shirts and ties. He won me over with the first smile. Obviously I won him over as well because my picture on the employee board kept going missing (when we finally moved in together, I found them all in a drawer in his house). We started talking at that time and he was very charming and I was in a relationship that had fizzled out.
Let me backtrack and tell you about that significant detail. At the time, I was with my high school sweetheart (let's call him Bob). We lived together and I absolutely loved him. Honestly, he was the greatest guy I think I will ever meet. He had a heart of gold, was a hard worker, dedicated family man, and loved me more than life itself. We talked marriage and kids, we had a future all planned out. Unfortunately, I was nineteen years old and trying to "find myself". I didn't feel the way I used to feel and didn't appreciate the love I had at home.
So your father and I began talking that fall in 2004. Slowly but surely, we went our separate ways and although we still saw each other at work, things changed between us. We went from friends to acquaintances. I still thought about him every once in awhile, but I was trying to make things work with "Bob". The following December, my entire world was turned upside down. I had heard some rumors about your father and didn't want to talk to him because of them. At our company's Christmas party, he cornered me. He asked why I wouldn't talk to him, and we got into a serious conversation. By the end of the party, he had me in his grasp again. "Bob" picked me up that night, but I spent the entire night on the phone with your father, catching up and making plans. "Bob" was angry. He didn't understand why I was talking to this guy and I couldn't explain it. Over the next month, I hung out with your father almost every day. I used the excuse that I was Christmas shopping and once Christmas was over, it got to the point where I didn't use excuses anymore, I would just leave, no questions asked. I think "Bob" knew, but he didn't straight out ask me. Sometimes I wish he would have.
On New Year's Eve in 2005, I took a test that would change my path forever. I found out I was pregnant with you. I didn't know how to handle the news, I was only twenty years old, living with one man and pretty positive that the baby in my belly was another man's. I told your father that I was pregnant and he was pretty calm with the news at first. I was actually shocked at how calm he was. I remember I told him in the staircase at work and he just kissed my forehead and said, it'll be ok. A month later, he also told me that he wasn't positive if you were his because I was living with another man (which I could understand and respect) and he wasn't ready for a relationship. He didn't want to be at my side during the pregnancy because if you turned out not to be his, he wouldn't be able to take that, which I could also understand.
I also told "Bob" I was pregnant, and that the baby was most likely not his. That was the hardest conversation I've ever had to have. We both cried, surprisingly there was no yelling, just tears and love. It didn't take long, but "Bob" left the decision to me. He told me that if I wanted to keep you, he would be there. He said that he loved me and the child I was carrying. He wanted to be there for me and for you, no matter who's child you biologically were. I wish I had respected that choice he made more, but I was young and conflicted. At first, we decided that he was the father, no matter what. And he was the best partner I could have ever had during that period of time. You were loved so incredibly much by both of us. His family loved you so much as well.
I chose not to tell your father when you were born and instead had "Bob" there because he had been by my side throughout. Your father decided at the last minute that he finally wanted to try to be a part of the pregnancy "just in case". I didn't feel that was fair, I couldn't understand how one man would be there NO MATTER who's baby it biologically was and the other wouldn't be there AT ALL because there might be a chance it wasn't his. As soon as I looked at your beautiful face though, there wasn't any doubt whose child you were. You were your daddy all the way. "Bob" knew as well as I did, but he acted as though you looked like him. We would find little features that looked like his and point them out to people. We wanted to believe it SO bad because we were trying to have a fresh start.
Your father finally saw you when you were seven days old. We met in the parking lot of the grocery store and he held you for the first time. Sometimes I wonder if that was a mistake on my part. I had been so strong until that point in standing my ground. The minute I saw him look at you, my guard fell and I couldn't be strong anymore. We all knew that you were his, so when he asked for a DNA test, I felt that I had to. "Bob" fought me on that one. He said that as of right now, he didn't know for sure, he could believe that you were his and he didn't have to have proof that you weren't waved in his face. Once we had proof, he would know that you weren't his and he didn't want to look at you differently. Yet, even after the test came back, he still loved you with all his heart. He'd come home from work and put on the MTV channel that actually played videos and he would dance you around the living room.
By the time you were a year old though, your father had worked his magic enough to convince me to move in with him. That first year had been a battle. We went through a custody court case (which I eventually dropped), a domestic violence dispute, a dui, and a name change for you. "Bob" and I weren't as close as we used to be and it was getting harder for me to stay. In my mind, I thought you should have your parents be together and I didn't want you growing up in two different homes. If your father finally wanted to be with me, then I was willing to give it a try with him. "Bob" took it pretty hard and although I was willing to let him still see you, he decided it would be best for all involved if he didn't. I want you to know though, that man loved you as though you were his flesh and blood. It was my fault that he isn't around now and you probably won't ever remember him, but just in case, know that he didn't walk away easily. It tore him apart to let go of you but it was what he felt he had to do, for your sake and for his.
Once your dad and I started officially living together, things seemed to quiet down. We still fought quite a bit but we tried hard to be a real family. We hadn't fought in months when I found out I was pregnant with your brother. When I took the test, I came out and told your father, I'm about to tell you something and you're going to be happy about it because I want to look back on this memory and know it was a good one. I showed him the test and he scooped me up and we danced around the kitchen. I'll never forget the happiness we genuinely felt. This time, he knew it was his child for sure. We were living together with you and it really felt like a family. That lasted a good month or so before things got bad again. We started fighting again, a lot. Your dad slept on the couch almost every night and I spent a lot of time crying in my car or laying with you crying in the bedroom. It finally got to the point where I decided I needed to leave. I quit my job, packed us up and we flew down to Washington to visit my grandparents and then to Colorado to visit with your aunt (my sister).
I can honestly say that at the time, I was hoping I would have the courage to start over in Colorado. I was hoping that I would be able to leave and never look back. I wanted to run away from everything and begin a new life with new people. Your dad must have sensed it because he became the man he was when I first fell for him. He promised me things would be different and that he truly loved me. So we came home. Things were actually decent between us until your brother was born. He helped to make our family more than just two people with a kid. You fell in love with him, I fell in love with him, and your father fell in love with all of us. We were a true family and I wanted it to last forever.

Your father proposed to me that Valentine's Day. It was one of the happiest days of my life. He didn't believe in marriage and it's all I've ever wanted. I felt as though he truly loved me enough to be able to compromise and make me happy in that way. A week later, the fairy tale fell apart. He kept staying up until six in the morning playing video games, smoking, drinking, and choosing his friends over us. I kept complaining and he told me that he thought by putting a ring on my finger that it would change me. I realized at that moment that this wasn't going to work. There was too much hurt and anger between us. It didn't matter how much love there was, it didn't matter how much we wanted to give you guys a normal childhood, none of that mattered. In the end, all we ended up doing was seeing who could hurt each other more. We ended things mutually and I stayed there so I could save money and find my own place. I ended up moving out sooner because of another domestic dispute between us.
I don't regret any of what happened between us. I loved your father because he helped create you. I still love your father because of you and Colevin. That love will never go away and I will always be there for him if need be. We have a complicated, confusing, abnormal history that even I have a problem understanding sometimes. But without him, there wouldn't be a you, or a Colevin. Without him, I wouldn't have the beliefs and values when it comes to a relationship that I do now. I know what I won't put up with and I know what I am willing to compromise on. I learned so much from your father about who I am as a person and who I want you to be. I made mistakes, I hurt people who didn't deserve to be hurt, and I ended up paying for that. I will never ever make the same mistakes again because I know how much pain I caused the people around me. Your father made mistakes as well, he hurt me in so many ways, he manipulated and controlled me and actually admits to it now. I hope he has also learned from our relationship and he even told me that you made him realize that he loves me for the same reasons that I love him.
I'm sorry I couldn't give you the family or life that you deserved. It breaks my heart every day that you have to go back and forth between us. It hurts that I get so stressed out when I have you guys because I have to do it all on my own and I end up taking it out on you. I wanted you to have your parents together, but in my young mistaken mind, I ended up making decisions that tore us apart. Know that we aren't perfect, but we both love you and your brother unconditionally.

Love,
Your Mother

The "Broken" Syndrome

I have a post that I've been trying to write for three days regarding the Casey Anthony fiasco...but I've been stuck on exactly how I want to say what is swimming around in my head. Then something happened to me today that made me stop and cry. Then I stopped crying and thought about it. I realized that this was a subject that I've had strong thoughts and opinions on and I've lectured one too many friends regarding it, so I might as well put my thoughts out here.
I've heard too many people lately use the excuse of "I'm broken" in response to how they treat people. You hurt someone, it's cause you're "broken". You disrespect someone, it's cause you're "broken". You lie, cheat, break hearts, it's cause you're "broken". Doesn't matter the reason, something happened in your past that hurt you and because of that, you use it as an excuse to not let anyone else close to you. I have a secret that is going to blow your minds. You won't even know what to do with yourself because your mind will be SO blown. Are you ready? Don't say I didn't warn you.
Here's the secret, WE ARE ALL BROKEN. We have all been hurt in one way or another. We have all been broken down and beat up in our own way by the opposite sex (or same sex I suppose). It's what makes us unique and gives us the ability to see the good. It helps us to appreciate what we DO have instead of what we don't. Trust me, I'm speaking from experience.
I am about as broken as it gets. I may never have been married (which a lot of my divorced friends hold against me), but I had children with someone and was married in every way except the license, I even had a ring! I was beaten down literally and figuratively, cheated on and treated disrespectfully. I built up walls and swore that no one would ever break them down. I never wanted to get hurt again. I never wanted to get beaten down again because it hurt down on the ground. Then I realized that if I wanted to be happy, I had to let go. The past had to stay in the past. I therapeutically started writing and it helped tremendously. I focused on the kids and on myself. Then I found someone who stole my heart.
Every guy that I've dated since I split with my kids' dad has had the same excuse, "I'm broken", "I can't give you what you deserve", "I'm not ready for a relationship". If it was just ONE guy, I'd think, ok whatever. But this has been five guys in a row, I've actually started thinking that there was something wrong with me. But I also have quite a few male friends that give me the same excuses as to how they treat women like exchangeable pawns. Well I'm sick of hearing it. It's an excuse and that's all it is. I've used it, I know. It's an excuse to shrug off your behavior. An excuse as to why you're alone, why you keep people at a distance, why you're scared of actually caring for someone.
Life is about caring about people. It's about taking risks. It's about giving someone your heart and allowing them the trust not to break it. What happens when you find someone who makes you feel incredible? What happens when you find someone who fits so perfectly with you that you truly believe they were made for you? Will you allow your past failures to keep you from happiness? I just don't understand how I can still believe that I deserve to be happy and loved unconditionally despite all that I've been through yet other people don't see things the same way in their lives. Yes, I have felt worthless, defeated, "broken". Especially when I've given everything I have to someone and they reject it.
I just want people to realize that I understand that to be rejected, cheated on, beaten, it all hurts. But we have ALL been hurt. And sometimes, when someone loves you even when you're "broken", they're the ones worth keeping around. Because honestly, if they love you when you're at your worst, they will love you even more when you're at your best.

Do You Remember?

Remember when we would sit on the porch, just the two of us, and we'd laugh? Remember when I would help you with your math homework because you didn't understand? Remember when my heart was broken and you would let me cry on your shoulder? Remember when you finally approved of one of my boyfriends? Remember when you said that we'd be friends forever? Do you remember that? I do.
Do you remember the time that we were locked out of my house and you stayed with me until my parents got home? Do you remember the time that I waited for you at the mall for an hour and I made you pay for the drink that I bought while waiting? Remember the time that we went swimming and you pretended to drown me? Remember the time you stood up for me? Remember the time that you said you'd always be there for me? Do you remember that? I do.
Remember how you used to walk me home from practice, even though you were tired and sweaty? Remember how you used to come with me to basketball games, even though you didn't like basketball, just so I could cheer my boyfriend on? Remember how we used to get ice cream and you would always let me get the banana split? Remember how we used to talk for hours on end about our futures? Remember how you used to be my best friend? Do you remember that? I do.
I remember a lot of things about our friendship, but what stands out most in my mind, is what ended it. Do you remember that? I do. I remember what you did. You assumed that I did something to hurt you. You ASSUMED that I HURT you. When you assumed that, it hurt me. We can never sit on the porch or go swimming or eat ice cream ever again. Somehow, something happened, and we both got hurt, maybe not intentionally, but we did. Maybe you've forgotten all about me, but I will always remember.