Christmas Spirit

In particular Christmas fashion I'm attempting to practice kindness especially with those who lost that sentiment a long time ago. I'm attempting to accept differences and move past the fact that there are some people in my life who are there by force rather than by choice. I'm trying to reconcile that with the two empty chairs at our table, missing the people I have loved the most. But more importantly I'm realizing that regardless of the loss and pain my family and I have endured, we are, and I am blessed.

I was blessed with two beautiful souls who loved me with all their hearts, I am blessed with my grandmother, an 86 year old Irish immigrant who's spirit and spunk is never ending and who's love knows no bounds, I am blessed with an Aunt and Uncle who wake up and face the world with such pain on their shoulders but so much more love in their hearts, I am blessed to have a sister who's compassion is endless, and I am blessed with a fierce mother who fights not only her battles but the challenges of others with peace, kindness, and love.

I am blessed with true friendship, with support and encouragement, with belief and inspiration, and with love. And with all of that who could ask for more.

Not everyone has all they could ask for but everyone deserves a little love, a little kindness, a little compassion, and a little Christmas spirit.

Merry Christmas! ox

The Deep Exhale Jar

For my birthday two years ago a very wise man made me "a deep exhale jar", a jar to deposit small change ranging from a penny to a quarter depending on the level of deep exhale. A bizarre gift, yes, one that made perfect sense, definitely. Ian had noticed a tendency that I had to sigh, very often, these sighs would have been alright, had they been productive, had I recognized them, and processed the stress that was causing them. But I wasn't.

The deep exhale jar was the inspiration for the title of my blog, "the sigh that blew me forward." Yes, these are lyrics from one of my favorite Florence and the Machine songs, Between Two Lungs, but it felt fitting as a title because I wanted my sighs to mean something, I wanted them to serve their real purpose of release. I didn't take full advantage of the deep exhale jar, instead it served as storage for our duds and suds coins but I'm beginning to rethink it's purpose. Too often we ignore our bodies response to the stresses and anxieties we encounter daily. I hadn't noticed my sighing until Ian pointed it out, but two years later I am very conscious of my deep exhales and can recognize when I need to step back and take a minute for myself. That doesn't necessarily mean that I do it but it's a start. It's easy for us not to be conscious of this, but we need to recognize it and we need to unwind. 

We all need a deep exhale jar. We all need to take a second, recognize what is weighing us down and then put a little something away for the future for all the deep exhales we let out in our present. I've made the decision to take some time to dedicate a little something to myself for what ever is trying to escape through my sighs, whether it's a crossword scratch off, cream instead of skim in my coffee, a yoga class, or a walk around the block, something small that I'm dedicating to myself. We all, at least, deserve to do something small for our selves.  

on not giving up

This blog has been calling my name for the past few weeks as work and life has been stressful as ever… And knowing that my work load is doubling on Monday has had me dreading tomorrow at 8am since before I even left the office on Friday. So, all the more reason I need to remind myself of why I created this blog in the first place, to serve as a release and as a place for exploration of feelings. 

This job is most definitely excellent preparation for my future nursing career and I know that the experience I’m gaining now. On one hand I have 14 hour days, realizing at 3pm that you didn’t eat your breakfast yet, running (yes, literally) through the office to give report on the 3 patients I’ve interviewed in the last 20 minutes, having 6 phone calls to return 34 unopened emails 4 patients ready in exam rooms and 2 drug reps in the waiting room, having great expectations that are often let down, trying your hardest and getting an F you in return. On the other hand I have incredibly rewarding and fulfilling conversations with some of the strongest and bravest individuals on this earth, thank you calls and text messages that warm my heart, and the opportunity to provide companionship when it’s missing and needed. I am so happy that I have this job and that I decided to take the year to do this, but I am wishing I had more time for patient care, for learning and teaching, and for providing compassion. It’s a draining position to be in to want to do everything in your power to help make everyone’s situation just a little better, a little easier. It’s draining, to the point of tears, after hours of phone calls, effort, energy, belief in and hope for an individual, to be let down, to be given up on and to witness someone give up on themselves. Sometimes, particularly in moments like that, I forget that the feeling and desire to help is powered by optimism and hope. I think we all need to remind ourselves of that and choose not to give up. 

 I get told, fairly often, that I can’t save the world. Well, I know that, but that will never stop me from trying with all that I have, it’s who I am, and I refuse to lose sight of that. 

So in preparation for the coming week and more so as a new mantra, I am reminding myself that I am not someone who gives up. No matter what.

Dated July 30th, 2012

Another one that was hiding in the drafts folder, on being a working gal, and on things being hard:

I have very happily returned to North Shore Long Island Jewish - Adult Cystic Fibrosis Center as their Assistant Research Coordinator. I couldn't think of a better place for me to be (except of course if the NSLIJHS would relocate to Binghamton so that I could be with Ian and our kitties...) Everyday I wake up knowing that I have an opportunity to make a difference in someone's life and I feel so privileged. Being there is second nature, knowing and understanding the treatments, interviewing patients, calling for IVs, calling for patient admissions, coordinating study visits, reading labs and microbiology reports, managing IRBs, etc. I love it all. But in a way I'm left wanting to do more. Maybe it's ambitious to want to change peoples lives everyday, but I think we all have the potential to do it, if we pay attention to the simple things.

I met with two very special individuals on my very last day as an intern last summer, and they have left a real impression on me and I am deeply saddened by their absence as I return this year. Their struggles with CF were different than anything I had every witnessed. They were more alone in their fight than I even thought possible. They showed me that no one is exempt from the cruelties of this world no matter how large their burden. Maybe I was ignorant, maybe I was blinded by the lives my two cousins were so fortunate to live, blinded by the love and support I had felt for them, that I didn't even think about or really even feel like I knew there would be young men and women who were in their fight alone, who didn't have moms or dads, or aunts and uncles, or cousins, and friends, who were there for them, who had their best interests at heart, who would support them, who would sit in the hospital with them, hold their hands, bring them Slurpees and Nathan's hot dogs. I'm an anthropologist, so how did I not know or realize that there would be incredible diversity in population? I don't know, but I don't think I was prepared for it, for all of it to be so very hard.

Both of these individuals left me wishing I could of done more.

They were warriors that were forced to survive through an endless storm of adversity. I'm left wondering, how can I take some of that away, how can I at least alleviate the pain for the time they are with me, for the time that I can be a presence in their lives? I don't know if I can, but I know that I can try, and I know that no matter the odds stacked against them I will never give up on them, I will never doubt them, I will only do my best to help them to succeed. So much of it is hard, so much of it is terrible, so much of it we can't change, but there is always hope.

Dated June 24th, 2012

Long overdue, this has been sitting in my drafts since June 24th. All together it's a self-realization, a reaction to the Jerry Sandusky verdict, and a sincere expression of gratitude...

I had some sort of revelation yesterday morning, I was transferring the crisis line to another volunteer after a 16 hour shift and reading the news updates on the Sandusky trial verdict: guilty on 45 of 48 counts of child sexual abuse. RAINN had posted a statement commenting on what this means for survivors, how this verdict changes things and how it creates an unprecedented demand for hotline services, as a volunteer I felt the weight of that demand with the queue constantly full of victims and survivors reaching out for support. This morning I felt a sense of pride for being part of this community, as a volunteer, as a full time supporter, and then I realized also as a survivor. It seems like a dumb realization since I've known this for a while, have come to fully accept it and share my story for years now, and am and have been very active in the community, but I never imagined that being a survivor of sexual violence would be a label that I carried, I never imagined that this would be part of who I am.

But it is, there is no denying that. It's not the single event that defines me but my reaction, what has come out of my experience, that says something about who I am. When I was assaulted 6 years ago, I felt incredibly alone, incredibly lost, not knowing where to go or where to start, I stayed silent but I knew that my life would never be the same. Well my life certainly is not the same, and the month of June gives me a sour taste in my mouth, but how has this changed me? I don't volunteer, or pay specific interest to the news, or wonder what initiatives are being made to protect victims because this happened to me, I do it because I appreciate the strength of this community, I appreciate the pain that these men and women, boys and girls have experienced, and I appreciate the freedom that comes from healing. 

After having that realization and feeling empowered by my survivorship and my commitment to this community, I stumbled across an article written for Sports Illustrated, titled: Sandusky verdict offers no real victory. I couldn't disagree more, while well written and hitting important points, his ending which comments again on Sandusky's lack of reaction is something I disagree with. For his victims, their stories were told, they were heard, they were believed, and the monster that forever changed their lives is being brought to justice. Personally, I care more about what this trial means for them than what Sandusky's facial expressions mean. The fact that these events were made so public, that PSU students and alumni, perhaps more than administration, reacted in a positive way, means something for all of us. Maybe as a civilization we've learned something from our mistakes, from the way we have previously hushed and silenced survivors who have stepped forward, maybe now we can change the history

I'm saying thank you to these men for their courage and bravery and their willingness to help change the future.

June 21st 2012

I remember knowing. I was walking around Saint Anthony's High School in my plaid pleated skirt and short sleeve button down, waiting for my mom, who was not supposed to be the person picking me up from my chemistry regents, she should've been at work... But she had called me and said that we were going to grandma's, a bell went off, both Jennifer and Marissa were admitted to LIJ and had been for weeks so the house was pretty much vacant, we should've been going to the hospital if we were going anywhere...
It added up and I knew. I'm not sure why I knew because Marissa was supposed to be getting better. She had been moved to the ICU and she had been intubated but this was to my understanding all so that her body could rest and she could get better. I had done the research, the median life expectancy was 37, Marissa was 27, I thought I had at least 10 more years.
My mom pulled into the Dunkin Donuts parking lot at the end of my Grandma's block, she parked the car and said to me; first, that she was so terribly sorry and then, that Marissa had not made it. I think I smiled and may have even laughed before I cried. I knew for the whole car ride, I knew while I was waiting at school, but now that it was real, now that it was said I just couldn't believe it. Not my Marissa. The first person I saw when I walked in the house was Jen, she was sitting at the dining room table, the home care nurse was there setting up her IVs and making sure she had everything she needed. Before I could say anything I was pulled into my Aunt Kathy's lap and I can still feel her tears soaking through the shoulder of my school uniform. 

I don't think that it actually hit me until we got home that night, I couldn't sleep, I couldn't stop crying, my heart wouldn't stop pounding. I wandered downstairs and ended up watching Barney re-runs from 3 am until 8 am, comfort food I guess. I remember thinking how will we make it through this, how will I make it through the funeral without her? When my Grandpa died, she held me up, she helped me write my letter to him and even placed it in his casket when I was too scared. She made sure I was alright, found ways to make me giggle, and helped my ten year old self to understand the loss our family was experiencing. But for the loss of Marissa and later the loss of Jennifer, there is no understanding, there is no explanation that can heal our broken hearts or can mend the wounds we feel from the loss of such beautiful young women. What we can do is remember and honor their lives and their spirits which shined through every smile, every laugh, and every hug. 6 years have gone by and I can barely believe it, I would give anything in the world to change it. 

To my Marissa, you are still my drive to succeed, you are still the one I think of when I need advice, and I am still your mini-me. I remember knowing, that you had left us, but more importantly I remember knowing that you had done so on your own terms, that you had been happy with all that you had accomplished, and that you had left a significant legacy behind you. I remember, now and always, your smile, your laugh, your hugs, your always pedicured toes, your willingness to befriend, and your never ending love.

Your memory is my hope.

Great Strides

In April of 2005, my Marissa got married. I was lucky enough to be a junior bridesmaid, and I struggled at 15 to find the right gift for the beautiful bride. I couldn't think of anything that would adequately reflect the love and appreciation I felt for her as a part of my life and also for inviting me to be a part of her wedding. I decided to make a contribution to the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation and to create a Great Strides  team in honor of both Marissa and Jennifer, the team name was JOY. I had a letter writing campaign in my high school resulting in a $1500 dollar donation in the girls’ name. I put together all the materials I had, including letters I had written to the administration,  letters I received back from the principal and other members agreeing to donate monies raised from Dress Down Days that year and in the future, a statement about the team  I had started, and a poem I wrote for the two of them. That May, myself, a few friends, and my mom and sister walked in the Great Strides event at Holtsville Zoo, raising even more funds for the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation. The following year was an even better turn out with more friends joining us for the walk and more funds raised, unfortunately Jennifer and Marissa were never able to participate in the walk with Team JOY, but following Marissa’s passing and Jennifer’s double lung transplant, Jen started her own team in memory and honor of her sister: team love u like an ice cream sundae, we’ve walked together as a family ever since. Jen poured her heart and soul into Great Strides after her double lung transplant; it was a tribute not only to her adoring sister but also to her donor. She was her happiest on walk day, with her friends and family gathering around to support her. She always made an effort to make the day special, whether it was making ice cream cone lollipops, ordering t-shirts, or baking cookies and making butterflies out of fondant. I know my mom has memories of going to Michael’s to find all the right and best cookie decorating tools. After Jen passed away, I think we were all unsure of whether or not we would continue to participate in the walk, and it wasn’t until we got the okay go from my Aunt Kathy that we all agreed it was the best thing to do for Jen. And so keeping in tradition of having something special, Ian and myself, and my mom and sister made a last minute effort to make t-shirts for the walk. After visiting a few craft stores and target, we were equipped with tshirts, iron on photo paper, and fabric spray paint. We made a nice assembly line in the living room and made 20 shirts for the walk. Seeing my Aunt Kathy’s face light up when she saw the t-shirts made it all the more special. So in preparation for our 8th year walking I’m writing from the laundromat in downtown Binghamton, with blue dyed fingers and another 20 t-shirts, my iron on paper is waiting at home as is my new printer ink and some fabric paint. There is no end to the love we have all felt from the these two beautiful women, and as a result there is no end to the support we offer to the cystic fibrosis foundation. I am looking forward to again gathering with Jennifer and Marissa’s friends and family to honor their memory and offer support to the continued fight against cystic fibrosis. 

Holtsville 2006

Holtsville 2007

Long Beach 2007

Hofstra 2009

Lido Beach 2010

Eisenhower Park 2011

Accomplishments

I did it, I graduated with a Master's of Science in Biomedical Anthropology. I wanted to be ambitious and as most people have heard me say one time or another, I wanted to be badass, which to me meant finishing both my bachelor's and my master's in four short years. Looking back, it was actually a very long four years. But now at the end of it, I made it, I did it. And I am badass.

In those four years, I crammed in over 150 credits of coursework, over 200 hours of lab work, countless presentations on Cystic Fibrosis, learning how to drive, over 3500 hours of work between Camp Wee Luv Em, The BonTon, Macy's and North Shore LIJ, four different CPR and first aid certifications, epipen trainings, over 40 field trips, 60 hours of crisis line trainings, 40 hours of online hotline trainings, hours of online hotline, crisis line, and advocacy shifts, growing and donating over 24 inches of my hair, over 30 doctors appointments, over 10 trips to the ER, 1 hospital admission, over 100 humira injections, I don't even want to estimate hours spent in the libraries, I do know there were multiple all-nighter's, but most importantly I crammed in lots of memories.

At the end of it, despite the challenges I faced and the times where I had I truly lost myself, I've learned who I am, who I want to be, how not to ever lose sight of that. One of my favorite artists (since the 8th grade) titled his journal: The Journey is the Destination, looking back I have a new appreciation for this. For all that I accomplished in 4 short years, it's not the degrees that are my biggest accomplishment but the hard work, the resilience, and the drive that got me there, it's my journey that has been my biggest accomplishment.

top 5 regrets of the living

Earlier this week  I had this how did I get here and what did I miss along the way feeling? Fairly usual Tuesday, working away at Macy's with some particularly cranky customer's and a number of high schooler's shopping for prom. I think I may have been over tired but I stopped for a second and thought did I go to prom... did I even go to high school? Well of course I did, but I don't remember ever being a high schooler who felt care free and went shopping for earrings on a Tuesday. Is that a bad thing? Probably not, but it led me to think about a link a friend posted a while ago on the top 5 regrets of the dying. This short article is about a book written by an Australian palliative nurse who counseled and interviewed patients in the last 12 weeks of their lives, she compiled the most common regrets that were expressed by her patients...

First on the list, "I wish I'd had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me."
Second,  "I wish I hadn't worked so hard."
Third, "I wish I'd had the courage to express my feelings."
Fourth, "I wish I had stayed in touch with my friends."
And fifth, "I wish I had let myself be happier."

This is quite powerful information, if we can identify what most individuals wish they had done differently than maybe we can live more fulfilled lives. When I first read this article, I felt a bit of weight because I was having these regrets already. But looking back at it know and recognizing the conscious decision I made at the beginning of this year to better myself, to work at decreasing my stress level, and to generally improve my well-being, I feel a bit of a release.

I have always tried to remain true to myself and to live the life I want to live, but things can get cloudy when there are many expectations hanging over you. My decision to pursue nursing is my decision alone, it's one that even surprised me but it is one that I am so incredibly excited about.
I am glad for and proud of the work that I put in to the past 4 years, I sometimes worry that it all sped by and that maybe I should've gone to a few more frat parties instead of working a part-time job and overloading my schedule every semester but my hard work has paid off and I know that there will be a time where I can slow down and enjoy all that's happening around me.
For the longest time I held a strong front and did not allow my feelings to interfere with any of my work or routine but I am beginning to accept the importance of recognizing my own feelings and sharing my experience to ensure that my needs are being met and that my boundaries aren't being crossed.
I do wish I had stayed in touch with my friends, my friendships are certainly something that has suffered when my time was devoted to other things. But recognizing that and making a conscious effort to sustain relationships is something I look forward to working on.
I am in a happy place, I am incredibly proud of myself for all that I have accomplished thus far on so many levels, academically, professionally, personally, and I am so looking forward to living happy, being happy, breathing happy, and just soaking it all up. Happiness has been a challenge, since the time I was 14 someone was always incredibly ill, or actively dying, or driving drunk, or threatening suicide, or getting arrested, it didn't leave much room for happiness and it left me living in survival mode. There is little room for happiness when you are living like that and it has always been a struggle to get excited for the good, something I'd have to force myself to do. Now it feels like something I am learning to do, and I've decided to make room for happiness.

Knowing this now and appreciating the insight that dying individuals give, opens up the doors of change and gives me even more drive for success, which may be measured in the regrets I no longer have.

time flys when you're having fun

Oh wow! It's been way too long since I've posted on here... forgive this speedy summary of the past few weeks :)

After addressing my concerns with my original Spirituality and Healing professor with the university ombudswoman I was sent to the Dean of the School of Nursing who was appalled by the comments that had been made about victims of all kind and was concerned with the content of the course as a whole. I was so nervous for this meeting and felt like I was embarking on a crusade or something of the sort, but I was met with kindness and compassion, I shouldn't have expected anything less from a nurse. She was so warm and accommodating and set me up with a life changing independent study with an incredible palliative nurse, Maureen, who will surely be a resource for many years to come. Maureen has introduced me to so many influential people in the palliative care world and has taught me the philosophy of palliative care in such a significant way. She is one of those people that chooses to place themselves among the dying, that facilitates a good death whatever that is for whoever it is because she knows the power of it.
Being a witness to my cousin Jennifer's death and being fortunate enough to hold her hand as she passed away is a pinpoint moment that significantly changed my life. I cannot describe that moment with any other words than absolutely beautiful and filled with love. I recently sat in on a hospice board meetings and heard so many people describe their best death experiences, most of which touched on the fact that there was a deeper sense of self when you entered the room, you were interacting with this individual on a uniquely spiritual level and there are just some things about it that you can't explain. I truly felt that with Jennifer and I am so grateful for that experience. It was such an incredibly positive experience and it's what opened me up to the advanced care planning project I worked on at LIJ and what led me to take the initial spirituality and healing course in the first place.
Working with Maureen has really been incredible, I'm sure I've said that already and I'll probably say it again. Our meetings started out as 1 hour, quickly turned to 2 hours, then to 3, and then to 4. It was overwhelming at times but I have to say I just wanted more time, there was so much to learn and I wanted to get it all! I was able to sit in on her undergraduate palliative nursing course and she even had me give a surprise guest lecture on end of life issues in cystic fibrosis. She has introduced me to the director of accelerated track nursing program and already has ideas in her head about where my clinicals will be when I return here as a nursing student. And on Thursday she is introducing me to the application reviewer for the program. It's really been an absolutely wonderful experience and has me even more excited to begin my nursing journey.
After completing my supervised hours on RAINN's OHL I became an official trained volunteer with my own schedule and everything and I am loving it! I'm practicing compassion and empathy, it's what I live and breathe. I have such immense respect for the individuals who have found the strength to reach out and seek the help or the answers that they need and I am so glad that I get to play a role, no matter how small, in their journey and their recovery. Since starting I've had a number of visitor's thank me and tell me that they wished they could give me a big hug, and that "I seriously just changed their life". Does it get any better than that?
Two weeks ago I gave my final presentation and handed in my final paper for my master's before completing my exit interview the next morning, where my conferral of degree was signed! I had hoped I'd make it here despite the many set backs that illness, death, and all the stress in between brought in but to really have done it, to be finished with my Master's Degree at 22, feel pretty damn awesome.
Oh and I've also been working at Macy's (it pays the rent and offers a nice discount to stock up on work clothes for my future), recently moved into fine jewelry, (yay commission and diamonds and sapphires and emeralds and rubies oh my!) it's a funny place, but has really been a pleasure to work at. I'm a bit surprised myself. This morning I opened for fine jewelry all by myself for the first time, which involves coming in an hour early unlocking safes, putting jewelry out and counting it all and logging it all in time for the morning meeting. Afterwards, one the funny and gossipy and slightly crazy fine jewelry ladies gave me a little Macy's Magic card that said, "Great job opening!!! Welcome to the team, you will do great!" It's the little things, that make the difference.

It's been a lot to juggle between volunteer hours for RAINN and Crime Victims, finishing final assignments for my master's, working one on one with Maureen, and being a pretty much full time employee at Macy's, but it's all worth it in the end and I really am at my best when I'm busy.

Popcorn and Linkin Park

I am writing this at 4:30am, after being overwhelmed and woken from my sleep by missing Marissa. The feelings memories bring and the realization that more will not be made have never gone well together for me. That said I am guaranteed a few times a year when this realization occurs, for both Marissa and Jennifer, the feeling of loss returns and can be crippling but I feel a sense of relief when it passes, like I've grieved again. I carry the weight of their loss on my shoulders but I have the spring of their lives in my step. I wouldnt have it any other way.
And so I am writing a blog on a wonderful memory I made with my beautiful cousin Marissa.

Last night, with Pandora (which I think Marissa would've LOVED and sometimes hated at the same time, only because she would think she could do a better job) on loud, a Linkin Park song came on and some friends in the room commented on how it's been about 10 years since the last time they'd heard this. I laughed and immediately my mind filled with vivid memories from the Linkin Park concert Marissa took me to for my 12th birthday. I was so in awe of her, her confidence, her sense of self, her humor and personality, the complete way in which she carried herself. This was the tail end of my awkward stage and I was super stylish with an accordion headband in my scrunched hair, way too much eyeliner, and a giant white sweatshirt. (I'm still wondering why a baggy white sweatshirt was my outfit if choice.) Marissa was ready when I got to the house, she was just picking out which shirt to wear with her dark washed jeans and silvertoned belt buckle. It was a choice between a black three quarter sleeve shirt with some ruffles on the neckline or a plain v-neck something. She was worried the ruffles were too girly but in the end she went for it, stepping just a bit out of her comfort zone. Later in the night someone complimented her shirt, a stranger, and she thanked them only after telling them all about how she thought it may have been just a bit too girly. I admired her charm and her ability to make conversation, with anyone, like the man with the popcorn. I was incredibly shy, I think I still am for the most part, a pretty shy individual, but Marissa was fearless. We were waiting on the line for soda and snacks and the man in front of us was munching on big bucket popcorn. Marissa thought this was odd, and asked what he was doing on the food line when he already had his food. I was giggling the whole time and all of this was incredibly exciting to me, (it may seem dull to some of you but I assure you, it was particularly exciting!) He told us he got it for free and pointed to the entrance to the concession stand, walked over, reached in and pulled a bucket out for us. I loved it, my sheltered little self was now eating stolen popcorn at a concert with my insanely awesome cousin. We bought two big sodas and went back to our seats. We talked for a bit, Marissa made some friends with the people around us and we contemplated jumping over the guard rail to get into the mosh pit after Cypress Hill finished. I remember feeling worried for a bit that we actually would, I was worried about Marissa and whether or not she would be okay, she was standing tall at 5'7" but couldn't have weighed more than 100lbs, people were smoking, it was crowded and I didn't want anything bad to happen to her. I didn't hate cystic fibrosis yet, I had only recently found out what it was, I feared it, it made me feel unsure. We didn't jump in to the mosh pit but just thinking about felt cool enough to me. We went home for a sleepover, Jen got home from working at Friendly's a little after us, I showed her my new tshirt (which I still have) and I told her all about the man with the popcorn. 10 years later I'm still telling the same story and I have to say, it still feels just as exciting as it did that night.

I would give anything in this world to speak with Marissa again, today, now, to sit and talk. To give her a hug tighter than ever before and just not let go. Some days I find it so hard to believe that life has continued after her death. She was the light in my young life and in many ways she still is today. I am reminded of her every day. Whether through a song, a smell, or just seeing someone that looks like her, but even more so when I am doing something I love and I realize that she would love it to. She always made me feel so good about myself and those memories with her, which are my greatest and most treasured memories, are truly a blessing.

Proud and Privileged

Ian gave me flowers after I finished my training for RAINN, he got me them because he is proud of me. And really, my heart melted, I AM SO LOVED. But upon receiving those flowers, I realized something else: I AM SO PROUD OF ME. 

This morning I spent two hours completing a practice session for RAINN. The scenario I was given was incredibly similar to what actually happened to me, and I have to say it was liberating to play the part, to tell my story and the story of so many other young girls in a training session, using it to teach volunteers how to help individuals like myself. It’s powerful. 

The scenario I was given today: “You are a 16 year old girl. Four weeks ago you went to a college party with some friends. You woke up the next day in a room you didn’t remember with no clothes on the bottom half your body. You don’t know what to do and you can’t tell your parents what happened. But what will you do if you are pregnant?? You have started to think about “ending it all”.”

My real story: I was a 16 year old girl, at a high school graduation party. My friend  told my mom she would stay be with me the whole night. I woke up the next day with vomit in my hair and my clothes on the floor. I couldn’t tell my parents. 10 days later my cousin Marissa passed away. I didn’t speak about my assault for a year.

When I tell my story, as I have done many times, I’m not just telling it for myself. I know that my story is not any different than the other thousands of individuals that are affected by sexual violence, and unfortunately too many of them are silenced. This morning as I was telling bits of my own story and bits of the scenario I was given, I thought to myself: I am going to help so many people, and this time not by sharing my story, but by helping them to tell theirs.  And that is an incredible privilege.

So on that note, Happy International Women’s Day!

1 in 4

People often say everything happens for a reason, it’s not a phrase that I latch on to frequently but today someone said it to me, and I have to agree. This weekend Ian and I are traveling to Long Island so that I can complete my Rape, Abuse, and Incest National Network volunteer training, this is something that I started 3 years ago and this weekend is the final in-person training before I start volunteering on the online hotline. This evening I had the sexual assault in-service for my New York State Rape Crisis Counselor certification class. And last night I had a professor tell me that “people are raped because of their bad karma.” Everything happens for a reason?

I should begin by explaining the setting of this class, it is a spirituality and healing course which is teaching a very alternative approach to medicine. Last night’s discussion focused on karma exchange between individuals that have sexual intercourse. Essentially the teaching in this school of thought is that bad karma is exchanged between sexual partners and therefore individuals should refrain from having sexual intercourse with more than one individual. My immediate thought was to ask what this school of thought thinks about victims of sexual assault and rape, what happens with the karma there, how can it be that bad karma is exchanged when it was not your choice to have intercourse, etc. I didn’t ask this question, and I’m not sure what stopped me. As the class went on we began a focused healing and blessing meditation. The main focus of this meditation was forgiveness. Something that I struggle with, struggle may even be an understatement, but last night I had a kind of why not try it attitude. For those of you who have been reading my blog you know that there are many individuals that I could invite forward to sit down with me and offer them my forgiveness (this is all done in a visualization while meditating, not sure if I believe it, but I am trying to remain open to it) the first people that came to mind, like my dad or even the doctor that I was so frustrated with, did not appear in front of me, instead the individual that raped me when I was 16 years old appeared. I was in shock a bit because consciously I hadn’t thought of this person and hadn’t called them to my field of vision, but there he was. The professor continued to lead the meditation, instructed us to offer unconditional forgiveness to this individual, to picture ourselves being freed of the painful situation, of moving past it, of ending this relationship essentially through forgiveness. When I heard the words free yourself of this situation my eyes began to tear and I felt this overwhelming sense of calm, I had never imagined being totally free of this pain, but for once I was thinking maybe I could be, and it was wonderful, just to think of it. When I got home I explained it to Ian that I have for so long felt trapped by this experience, but as the years have gone by and as I have begun to share my story, the chains have loosened up and I’ve been able to leave the jail cell that represents my rape, but still I feel a shackle around my ankle, that pulls at me every now and again, and to be free of that, would be incredible. Needless to say this felt like an absolutely amazing and powerful experience, which I am very grateful for, I even began to think that maybe this class wasn’t going to be just a bunch of crazy ideas that didn’t make any sense. 

As class ended I prepared myself to share this experience with the instructor. Myself and another student returned to her office for discussion and before I could say anything the other student asked that question, “what happens with the karma when someone is raped?” You will be shocked, as I was shocked by this instructor’s response, so be prepared, because I wasn’t. Her response was: “The real spiritual question here is, why do people get raped? You can’t understand rape if you don’t understand reincarnation, if you do than you know that there are no victims, only people that deserve to be raped. People who are raped have bad souls, they were most likely pimps or rapists themselves in past lives and now their bad karma has caused them to be incarnated as a woman so that they can experience rape.” 

I would love to tell you all that I just lost it, that I stood up, dug deep for my survivor voice and spat out every single statistic about rape and sexual assault and continued until she had really heard me and apologized for making such an obscene comment... but I didn’t I sat in my chair and waited until I could leave. When I got home, Ian knew that something was wrong and I said to him that I felt so incredibly uncomfortable. I broke down and cried, and then cried some more. I felt terrible, absolutely horrible. This woman who is a well-educated professor just told me that I was raped, that 1 in 4 American women are raped, because we are bad people. My skin is crawling just thinking about it. 

Tonight during my in-service I opted to share this experience as a way to emphasize the need for sensitivity to issues like fault and blame. The responses that I got were incredibly encouraging and opened my mind just a bit more. Someone told me, "everything happens for a reason, this happened to you last night and it is no coincidence that today's in-service is on sexual assault," another commented on "how fortunate I am to be this strong individual that has shared my story and has worked toward healing," but what about the many other individuals that statistically speaking are also in this course? What about the many individuals that have not shared their story, that are suffering in silence? What happens when they are told that people are raped because they have bad souls? It affected me so strongly, and I cannot imagine what it would have been like if I had taken this class 4 years ago. My peers encouraged me to say something to my instructor and after a bit of thinking this is the response I wrote: I wanted to share a personal experience with you after class and it was my intention to until a classmate asked about karma exchange among people who are raped. I have to stay that I felt shocked to hear the question as well as the response to: "the real spiritual question is why do people get raped?" I am a trained volunteer for the Rape, Abuse, and Incest National Network's online hotline and I am also currently in a certification program to be a New York State Rape Crisis Counselor. I have lived with my own rape for 5 almost 6 years, I have studied the literature on rape and sexual assault, I have participated in national conferences, a variety of trainings, and multiple survivor events and I can tell you people are not raped because they are good or because they are bad, people are a raped because a perpetrator feels a need to control and humiliate another individual. One of the most pervasive and offensive misconceptions about rape and sexual assault is that it is the victims fault. This misconception is extremely detrimental to victims, these are individuals that have been traumatized, they have had all of their control taken from them, and their bodies have been violated in the most personal way, to blame the victim, to have the victim feel that they did something wrong or that it is their fault, is inconceivable, yet incredibly common. And it is what I heard from you last night. Hearing that I was raped because I have bad karma, victimized me all over again and made me feel absolutely miserable. That said, I am fortunate because I have chosen to confront and share my experience, other individuals, in fact the majority of other victims are not as fortunate as I am, and to hear that they were raped because of their bad karma has the potential to be incredibly damaging. We are all free to have our own beliefs but there needs to be a level of respect and sensitivity for peoples experiences, particularly such personal and difficult experiences like this. 

What I want to convey by sharing this is just how important it is to be aware, to be kind, to be empathetic, and respectful of the different individuals we meet. I am 1 in 4 women who has experienced sexual assault in my lifetime and statistically speaking we all know individuals that have experienced sexual assault. Having that knowledge empowers us to be compassionate and respectful, to think before we speak, and to be supportive where ever we can. Being there, showing compassion, and leaving all assumptions aside has the power to make a difference, even if just for one person.