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Friday, September 28, 2018

Me, too, 9-28-2018

I have been almost paralyzed this week.  Paralyzed by memories.  Memories of being 11 years old and my body developing sooner than most of my friends.  With the onset of menses the spring of 1956 by the fall of 1957 I had begun wearing bras.  On this particular day I was wearing a corduroy jumper dress with a long sleeved blouse.  This outfit had been made by my Mom.  It was the '50s so my skirt was well below my knees.  Walking down the hall I was surrounded by about 3 boys.  The held me and managed to unfasten my bra through all that material.  I was embarrassed and bewildered.  While the boys had paid attention to me it was not in a way I liked.  I did not tell anyone and I do not know why.

In the guise of 'teaching the facts of life' my father molested me from the time Mom went to work in 1958 till I left home in July of 1965.  Not gonna give any more of the details.  During an overnight visit to a friends home I was awakened by a man fondling my breasts and touching me.  He constantly said it was ok just do not make a noise.  A later to my parents home he raped me.  Whispering, "I'm fixed do you will not get pregnant.  Now keep quite."

Again, I did as told.  I never fought.  But the 61 years since the beginning of the incidents has been filled with self loathing.  Decades were filled with nightmares, suicidal thoughts and threats.  Of course there was so much therapy.  In 2002 I was diagnosed with PTSD and treated with a reprocessing of the scenes.  I would give the details of the events.  A therapy treatment of eye movement and relaxation and then I would recite the details.  Only this time I would yell or do what ever I wished I had done at the time of the incident.

And then the uproar over Brett Kavanaugh's Senate Judicial Committee hearings.  I cannot will not watch on purpose.  I avoid the facebook posts that say it has been 30 years, why did she wait so long.  Well, considering the hell she is being put through now just imagine what it would have been like following the initial incident.  Victim blaming is not new.  Just read the Bible.  All I can say is I am not a victim.  I am a survivor.  So are all the other women that have been subjected to the unwanted grab to the unwanted penetration and have lived . . . in silence and misplaced shame.  Like it was my fault to be walking down a hall with breasts I did not ask for; or just being a daughter alone with a father while the mother was at work.  Sleeping in a bed at a friends home.  Just being a female.   

Then there are the young boys that have been bullied and raped as a rite of passage by older boys.  I do not have an answer to all this except to say this.  Do not teach your boys that this is okay by saying you do not believe.  By saying well it will ruin the rapist's life if we punish him for just being a boy following his nature.  We cannot continue with this and expect the world to be any safer for any of us.

Wednesday, September 5, 2018

September 5, 2018

My brain and fingers still want to write 19## like that part of my brain has not accepted that we are 18 19 years past that time.  But that was not what I have been thinking about.  Yesterday was Hubby's 78th birthday.  Seventy eight.  Wow, he was 3 weeks shy of 26 when I opened that apartment door to find him standing outside about to knock on the door.  There have been good years, there have been less than good years.  One year that we were certain was the end of all we had hoped to build together.

1959, Hubby
With Hubby's birthday and my 72nd to follow in 3 months, I have been thinking and evaluating my place in life. Part of that evaluation has been categorizing different life phases, especially during our marriage.  Several if not most of our years together were dedicated to gathering and building.  We purchased property on which we later built a house that we made a home.  We purchased furniture some of which we still use on a daily basis.  We hoped to have a family of 2 or 3 children.  Life chose we have one very special son in 1973.
October, 1973, Son

Hubby standing on base for foundation, 1969.




We sold that first house and moved to a different state in 1975.  We lived in Hubby's home town and took over the family business.  The thriving business experienced problems under my management.  That coupled with the changing repair business becoming a throwaway and buy inexpensively from WalMart saw the doors close permanently in 1985.  By that time Hubby and I were working for a company located about 35 miles from this second home.

Still have that picture, table and some of the decor.
During those years we were still in gathering and building mode.  Building friendships and family ties.  We worked in the church, we followed Son's school activities and we even were den parents for Scouts for a few years.  That home on Hadley Street that seemed to be in constant renovation served as a gathering place for our extended families.  Nearby cousins and uncles as well at the Kansas crew sat at table for Thanksgiving.  What excitement when we blew a fuse while part of the meal was still cooking.  By moving some portable cookers to other rooms we still managed a meal by 1:00 PM.

Floating Flat Creek
We added a full bath to the back room of that house.  That is the one where I promised God if I ever got that foil wall paper hung I would never buy foil paper again.  I finished it and never did buy any more of that type of paper again even though it looked smashing.  That was Son's bedroom which still had the space based wall covering on it when we moved in  February, 1993.  Even though there were many changes in the house, garage, yard and large outbuilding, I never felt it was complete.  Never finished the basement.  Never had the hall bath updated the way I wanted.  Those were the only two things, though.  Because we lived in that home while our Son grew from a toddler to a college junior,  he will always think of the red house on the hill as his home.

Hadley house before we painted red.

Senior photo of Son, 1991
The home we moved to in '93 was to be the last we owned.  It was unfinished when we purchased.  A new build so we could pick colors and customize for our likes.  We had a doorway opened and another narrowed.  Cabinets built differently than in the original plan.  Bookshelves added and flooring added in the attic for storage.  Carpet upgrades and decided to save $ by us putting up the wallpaper.  It took about 225 rolls of paper and borders to get the 'look' I wanted.  That cost a trip to the doctor for injections for what was determined to be tendinitis in my right forearm from overuse.  Tendinitis from overuse seems to be a constant theme in my life.  Wink, smile.  (Fighting adductor tendinitis today.  Should had not been doing 500 vine steps, only about 40.)


Digging the pond at Edgewood home.
Pond, 2013
While I had always had flower gardens in the different homes, the house on Edgewood was the most extensive.  Those of you who have followed my blog have seen photos of the yard.   And that yard was what proved to be the one thing that became more than I could maintain.  You see, one can build and build.  Gather and gather but eventually it becomes maintenance.  If you have managed to accumulate enough money you can pay someone to do the work.  I had not.  I knew I could not rebuild that flagstone walkway one more time if the moles damaged it once more.  Couple the advancing years for Hubby and I with three grandsons and Son living too far away to visit for dinner, it became time to quit gathering and building.

Edgewood backyard days before moving.
Gotta keep Son's wagon.
Last look at the walk the moles kept digging up




















In 2013 we began the new part of our life, dispersing and letting go.  We had done some of this as we had realized we did not need more stuff when we had cleaned out our parents homes of 50 years.  That is when we started one in one or two out.  You cannot purchase something unless you already know what you are letting go.  That is a huge mindset change after decades of gathering and building.  Five years into living in half the space of our home, we still require storage units for the stuff we use.  And the stuff we cherish like the rocker of Hubby's grandpa.  The bed my mom bought me in 1963.  Family photos and keepsakes.  Decorations for different holidays.  Hubby's Jeep hardtop and doors.  A bicycle.  Hubby's dad's ham radio.  Stuff that not only we gathered but our parents and their parents before them.

Moving day, 10/30/2018
Today, the day following Hubby's 78 birthday, I sit here nursing my stupid leg.  It was doing better and then I walked without a cane.  I climbed on a one step stool to put some decor away after Son's party.  No longer gathering or building.  Just trying to keep myself healthy.  Working to remain mobile and upright.  Being near to Son, DIL and their family.  Spending time with my sisters.  Working to build relationships with the now 5 grand kids.  To give them that love that helps them have the solid foundation for their time of gathering and building.

Confirmation, 4/22/2018, Hubby, Son and grandsons

Bonus Grands,
Brother and sister, her prom, 5/2018
DIL and granddaughter