Saturday, November 3, 2018

September

I won’t lie, in many ways September was a very hard month for me.

On the positive side, I flew to Idaho to spend my mother’s birthday with her, and has a great time. Also on the positive side, I was cleared to start the slowest ramp up plan in the world for returning to running. And in more positive news, I had a mole removed in late August because my dermatologist had concerns, and the biopsy came back abnormal but not melanoma and it’s gone now anyway.

However, I’ve got three new moles on the watch list. One is near where the melanoma was removed, one is on my left shoulder and one is on my left hip. And I won’t lie, waiting to get the results of the biopsy back were not a lot of fun.

And then of course we had the entire unfolding of our newest Supreme Court Justice’s past splashed all over national news.

During that same time, I was completing 25 hours of training required of all potential volunteers for MOCSA, Kansas City’s only rape advocacy group in the metropolitan area.

In one of the required courses, I read that victims of child sexual abuse have higher rates of revictimization.

I immediately (and as I have always done) rejected that idea. Not me, nope, that’s not me in the least. Then I started remembering what happened when I was 14, 18, 19, 25—you get the idea. Yes, that was me. I don’t pretend to know why sexual abuse at a young age leads people like me to be re-abused, but I can’t deny that any more.

So I didn’t sleep well, I told friends I was either going to start crying and never stop or turn into nothing but pure rage. I was not exaggerating.

My mother asked me in early October if there was a reason I wasn’t blogging any more.

This is why. All my energy was focused elsewhere, on trying to keep my head above water, trying to get some sleep, any sleep, and to both remember what I needed to remember while not getting absolutely stuck in the past. 

2 comments:

Jeanne said...

I hope being able to write about it means it's a little better now.
I've turned some of my rage and helplessness into political action, and that helps me sleep at night.

Jeanne said...

or it did.