where sunflowers grow: part II

so last summer, about a month before i got pregnant, back when i was blissfully ignorant of how miserable a person can be, i wrote {this post} about finding the good in the bad, how sometimes sunflowers grow in patches of weeds. during some of the worst times during this pregnancy, i have tried really, really hard to think about where sunflowers grow. because i have to believe this terrible trial happened for a reason and that some good came out of it. especially after days like yesterday.

yesterday was not a good day.

i guess this really starts last week, when i had a scary panic attack. nausea-wise, it was a rough day. compared to a few months ago, it wasn't bad at all, but i was still feeling pretty yucky. i went pee in the upstairs bathroom at my parents' and thought i might throw up. i have thrown up so many times in that toilet, and for some reason, it just freaked me out that night. right after going pee, travis and i got in our car to drive home. he asked me how i was doing and i said, "oh man, i thought i was going to puke in there."

and then i started to cry.
then the whole bit, hyperventilating, heart pounding, legs going numb, feeling dizzy, etc. the usual song and dance of my panic attacks.

travis, who was confused at first about how his wife had gone from completely calm to this person who couldn't breathe, pulled the car over and hugged me while i sobbed. helped me slow my breathing down and get everything under control again.

"you're okay collette. you aren't throwing up anymore. you aren't going to throw up." he kept telling me. as i sit here and type this, i'm starting to cry because of how real that fear is, that i'm going to go back to being that person who is trapped in a body that won't keep food down, a body that doesn't work right, no matter what you try, no matter what meds you take. those months were unbelievably isolating and terrifying.

then a few days later.
travis and i were sitting on our couch, just hanging out, and we made a couple of jokes about our non-existent sex life.
then we went upstairs to get dressed to leave, and i just stood there in the closet, sobbing my eyes out.
again, travis was confused about his seemingly calm wife turning into a blubbering mess in a matter of minutes.

i was just filled with this hot rage that our lives have been so altered by hyperemesis and that neither of us had any control over any of it.

so then yesterday.

i had a dentist appointment for a tooth i had chipped on sunday. after eating dinner, i realized there was a jagged hole in one of my molars. uhgggg, a trip to the dentist, something i have been dreading, because i had a terrible time taking care of my teeth during the vomiting. just putting the toothbrush in my mouth was enough to send me to the toilet. i remember nights, trying to get myself to bed after forcing down that bowl of cereal, and then brushing my teeth. feeling the cereal coming back up, starting to sweat and turn green and travis saying, "oh no, you're so close to going to sleep, come on, you can do it!" and then throwing up the cereal and having to go back downstairs and try to eat again. so i wasn't able to take very good care of my teeth and i knew i'd be paying the price eventually.

got to the dentist. did the whole, "how's the pregnancy going?" "oh it's been pretty hard, i threw up a lot." trying not to be overly dramatic about it, and then wishing i could just scream to him that it's been living hell and i can't believe i could live feeling like i was going to die for that many months. and then he's like, yeah, well my sister had tough pregnancies and she ended up having five kids. plus she had preeclampsia, so try having that plus being sick! ...good thing pregnancy makes you so tired, or i think i would punch a lot of faces.

so then he numbs me up and starts drilling on the tooth. saying, "oh this should be quick and easy.... oh wait."
and you're all numb and drooly and you're like, "whaa? wha's going on??"
he tells you he can tell you vomited a lot. and that the acid from the vomit has worn away the tooth and that was why the tooth crumbled away, and it's now in the nerve and you need a root canal.
"yeah, vomit is pretty rough on your teeth." he says.
like he even knows.

he didn't look at the rest of my teeth and i really don't want him to. a few months before i got pregnant, i had a cleaning and my teeth were perfect, no problems, no cavities. now my teeth are chipping and filled with decay?

i barely made it out of the office before bursting into tears. not because i need a root canal, even though that will be a long and uncomfortable day. i cried all the way home because i feel so angry, so betrayed by my body, so upset that i did it, i faced my fear of pregnancy and it was harder and more miserable than i ever could have imagined. i'm so angry that i had to learn these big words, hyperemesis gravidarum and that even though i'm not throwing up anymore, that i'm doing better, my teeth are paying the price. that i have panic attacks when i feel extra nauseated. that the decision to give remington a sibling isn't going to be a simple, happy thing.

angry angry angry.

but the piece of me that demands i see the whole situation and not just the bad parts, that annoying voice that insists good things have come from this, reminds me of a few important things.

remember that PTSD i have as a result of sexual assault? and how i have a hard time believing that the people i love most and who love me, actually do love me? specifically, my parents and travis. it hasn't completely "gone away" but it is completely different now.

quick recap. after the assault, i looked at myself in a different way. i felt dirty, used. i remember on a trip to our cabin, looking through the screen door at my family sitting by the fire outside, and feeling that i wasn't worthy to sit with them, that i was somehow tainted. i believed that my parents saw me as something disgusting and that they couldn't possibly love me the same way ever again.

it sounds irrational, i know, but this is how i have felt for a long time. part of me knew my parents loved me, but the other part just knew i wasn't worthy of their love.

so when i became so sick i couldn't care for myself anymore, my mom was the first to understand. i suddenly was terrified to be away from her, because she seemed to get it in a way no one else did, that i had severe food aversions, that having to smell just about anything would make me sicker. she was the first person i really broke down in front of after vomiting. she stroked my back and hair while i sobbed to her that i couldn't do this anymore, that i couldn't survive, i wanted out. i had heard so many things that made it worse, like "eat crackers" or "everyone gets sick when they are pregnant" that i was afraid to be around anyone, because those comments were un-validating (is that a word?) and made everything harder. i just wanted to be around my mom, because she understood how sick i was without me having to prove anything to her.

i also started to see how much my dad loves me. which i know, shouldn't seem like that big of a deal, but it is. with travis having to work so much, i couldn't be alone, so, as i've said, i moved in with my parents. every morning, my dad would cheerily greet me with, "good morning pumpkin!" and then ask what i thought i could eat for breakfast. if i threw it up, he would try to cheer me up and re-feed me. he distracted me with things to laugh at, like watching seinfeld together or making jokes. he gave the perfect combination of sympathy and a can-do attitude, always telling me, "you're doing great, babe! just keep going!" my dad also kept me from going insane, taking me on small outings to the grocery store when i felt up to it and on drives to get out of the dreary january weather. both my parents planned their lives around taking care of me, putting off trips and dates, and cooking something i would be able to keep down, which was no small feat, considering it changed almost daily. nothing could have "fixed" the situation, but their complete support and concern made all the difference.

then, travis. that man has made so many quiet sacrifices. before this all happened, i had a hard time believing i came first with him or that he could possibly love me. (again, seems like a no-brainer, i mean, the guy married me, obviously he loves me, but the PTSD has a way of tricking me into believing a man could only want me for my body and that i'm not a priority. and this is the quick version.)  after going through this pregnancy with travis, i have absolutely no doubts about his love for me. between all the things he has done, like caring for me physically, taking charge of everything i couldn't do, including things like the 45 minute phone call it took to pay off my student loan, and let's me honest, basically doing everything for me. and then the big things, the things i'll never forget, like watching him argue with the doctor that week we rushed into the ER and then L&D a few days later. the doctor was talking over me, while i was laying helpless in that hospital bed, saying this was normal and that i would probably start feeling better soon. travis wasn't having it and he interrupted that doctor.
"she can't eat. anything. i warm up plain noodles for her and put butter on them and that is all she has been able to eat for weeks. something is not right here."

that was the point when the doctor started to talk about getting hydration for me and that if things didn't improve, we would go to a PICC line.

how on earth could i not believe in travis's love for me after all of that?
now i am able to have a panic attack in front of travis and allow him for comfort me, something that before, i would have hid from him and handled it on my own, which would make it worse. 


these examples are only a tiny picture of all that my parents and travis have done for me during this pregnancy. and yes, i'm so very angry that this happened to my life. but how selfish would i be if i didn't recognize the incredible things that came along too? for the first time since i was that fourteen year old girl, i know without a doubt of my parents' love for me. i know without a doubt that travis loves me and that i come first with him. i have also learned how sure God's love for me is and that He is always there. these are some of the most important truths i could need to know.

i am angry that this happened to me and i don't understand why it had to be this way.

but i still believe sunflowers will grow in the patches of weeds that seem so awful. and we will look back and feel thankful for the very things that we struggled with.


xo

what happens when you're told you are only valuable if you're beautiful.

i'm going to warn you, this post is going to contain trigger warnings for pretty much everything. well not, everything everything, but i'm going to talk about sexual assault, low self esteem, rape, possibly every sad and awful and inexcusable thing ever. read at your own discretion.

where to begin. 

in the beginning of july, i went to the gym one afternoon after work. i enjoy the gym in the afternoon because most of the tools who like to take up a bench watching themselves lift 70 lb weights incorrectly, aren't off work yet. (or venturing out of their mom's basements yet. but i digress.) it's nice to be able to work out and not fight the crowds or be someone's eye candy. and okay, being someone's eye candy actually feels nice sometimes, but that is another part of what's wrong with the story i'm going to tell. 

so i've staked out my bench and i'm doing my workout. i've gotten a few glances, being one of the only women who isn't working out in the "women's workout" room, because i don't enjoy working out in a cramped, stuffy room short on equipment and space, but no one has really said anything to me. then a man takes a bench right next to me and wants to chat. i'm not sure if he's just being nice or it's he is trying to flirt. then when we winks at me i'm pretty sure i'm being hit on. i don't wear my wedding ring to the gym because it's a pretty big rock and i only really wear it when i've showered and dressed up. i don't know how to tell this man that i'm married and i also don't know if i am supposed to tell him or if that's presumptuous of me. maybe he's just being nice. maybe he's staring at my backside because he's admiring how fit it looks. maybe he flirts with everyone and it means nothing. part of me feels awkward, part of me feels uncomfortable, but another part of me is thinking, way to go, you've still got it! 

and okay, this is the part that is really hard for me to admit. if he wasn't hitting on me, i'd spend the entire workout telling myself i'm not pretty enough, not fit enough, not worthy of someone's attention, even if the attention is making me uncomfortable. because i've been told my entire life, or at least from the time i was in second grade, that i'm only valuable if i'm physically attractive. there was a boy in my second grade class who "liked" me. he told me i was cute and that he had a crush on me. this had never happened to me before. then i found out i needed glasses and was so excited about the purple frames i'd chosen. i told this boy about my glasses i'd soon be wearing and he told me, "when you wear glasses, you won't be cute anymore and i won't like you." bam! no one likes you if you're not attractive! that was the first of hundreds, thousands of times i'd get that message. and even though i'm 24 years old, in a loving, committed marriage, and i'm an educated adult, i still believe that message. even though that message goes against everything i stand for. even though i hate that message. for the most part, it's still with me. 

okay, back to the story in the gym. i ended up going into a different room to finish my workout and leaving in a different way where the guy wouldn't be able to see me leave. i didn't want him to think i was encouraging his flirting. as i'm shutting my car door, there he is standing in front of the car. this man followed me out to my car and came out of nowhere. he's saying something to me, making a phone sign and holding it up to his ear, i see him mouthing, "you should call me." i'm still shocked and a little freaked out that i was followed out to my car. without rolling down my window, i point to my ring finger and say, "sorry, i'm married." then, i can hear him yelling a very rude swear word and saying, "are you serious??" 

he walks away and i sit in my car in disbelief. and i lock the doors. 

then i spent the entire night, obsessing that i hurt his feelings. that i was giving off signals i wasn't aware of. i should have rolled down the window and explained things to him instead of acting so weird. 

i was freaking out that i'd hurt some guy's feelings. some random guy who hit on my and followed me to my car in an empty parking lot and startled and scared me. i felt like the bad guy. 

how does this happen, you may wonder. 

this is what happens when for one thing, we live in a culture that teaches this. 

saw this in my first women's studies class at BYUH. 

yes, they are allowed to talk about this at BYU. 

if you're interested, look up the full version on youtube. 

another reason i think the way i do, is that i was raised around a group of boys who were constantly reminding me my only value was in my looks. one of these boys would go on to sexually assault me and my best friend, and tell me parts of my body weren't as nice as hers. and i would feel that i wasn't enough. wasn't enough for a guy who was sexually assaulting me. but even before all that, this group of boys had a game they played. they rated girl's bodies with three numbers, on for her face, one for her midsection, and one for her legs and backside. they would rate all the girls in front of me. once, they realized i was a girl too and rated me. it wasn't a very high rating. i didn't feel upset at them for treating me that way. i was upset with myself for not being beautiful enough. i was also raised around many boy cousins who talked about girls in a way that assured me, you're only valuable if you're attractive. 

i grew breasts early on, and i grew breasts larger than most of my peers. the boys in school made comments, to my face, about my growing breasts. i lost track of the amount of times i was asked to flash boys. they asked me what cup size i was. they told me that's all they saw when they looked at me. once boy told me his name for me in his phone was "ginormous gizunguz." in my yearbooks, there are so many comments about breasts and "hey call me so we can make out." i was terrified my mom would see and think i was a slut. this all happened the year i was sexually assaulted. over and over and over i was told my body was the only important thing about me. 

my second year of college, i worked at the mall during the summer. there was a verizon wireless booth near where i worked. the guys who worked at that booth would often try to talk to me and the other girls as we walked by for lunch. one day we stopped and said hello. one of the guys working there, who had to be five years older than me, literally asked me if i would go out to the parking lot and give him a blow job in the backseat of his bmw. literally those were the words he said to me the first time he spoke to me. did i spit in his face or even tell him what a pig he was? of course not. because i had been well trained by now to know that if some stranger wanted me to give him oral sex, that was a compliment. never mind that it triggered terrible things. never mind that i was uncomfortable and embarrassed. hey, someone thought i was a worthy sexual partner. i just laughed it off and walked away. that is only one of many, many experiences like that. 

this isn't even covering what happened with the first boy who assaulted me. how i bought my first thong because he kept asking me what color underwear i was wearing and i was embarrassed to be wearing such "little girl" undergarments. the undergarments that covered my backside and weren't "sexy." i'm not going to go into the things he said and did to me, but i will say that they still haunt me. that i still feel the need to be "hot" and "sexy" or i'm not valuable in any way. 

so fast forward a few years. i've moved away and gotten away from those high school boys. i've learned and grown and started figuring out that i have more to offer than my body. i'm married to a man who loves me for  my mind, my brain, my heart, and my body, a wonderful combination i've never really known until now. working as a counselor was one of the hardest things i've ever done. it was pretty much a trigger finger for my PTSD. but i was really good at it. then there are a few of my co workers who begin to make those comments. so and so thinks i'm hot. so and so has a crush on me, and is telling everyone about it, even though he's married. then an older man makes comments to me about my breasts. i'm having panic attacks and remembering how terrifying it was last time i "told" on the boy who assaulted me. (i said that it was all consensual, not that i'd been assaulted.) even then, his friends peed on my house, harassed me at school, yelling, "whore!" every time they saw me in the hall. i blamed myself and still do sometimes. there was no way i could report these men at work. i was going to just deal with it like always. 

until i found myself emailing my boss and telling her i needed to talk to her. 

and we sat down in her office and i started sobbing and apologizing for sobbing. 

reported those men, called the head boss and reported them again. 

quit my job because i felt unsafe working there. 

stood up for myself when my employers tried to convince me to stay on for the rest of the month, assuring me the guy would work different shifts than me and wouldn't bother me. i told them i wouldn't work there after he knew because it wasn't fair for me to be in that position. 

went home and cried a lot. did the whole lock myself in the bathroom hiding from travis having a panic attack. but once i was done with all the shock of what had happened and i realized no one was going to harass or bully me or pee on my house, i realized i had stood up for myself. i hadn't let the cycle continue. 

and that was empowering. 

terrifying, too. 

i kind of always feel it's my fault for being sexually harassed because i have large breasts. 

this is absolutely false. 

my outward appearance is never an excuse for someone to ask me to give him a blow job.

being attractive isn't the only thing women have to offer. this is something i think i'll have to spend my entire life trying to believe of myself. 

if a man follows you to your car and then swears at you for not giving him your number, that's because he is a creep, not because of how you look in your gym clothes. 

and sexual assault is never the victim's fault. it doesn't matter what you are wearing, if you flirted, if you wanted him to be your first kiss. sexual assault is one hundred percent because the perp made a choice to assault you. these are things our culture is constantly reaffirming the opposite to us. we need to remind ourselves these things all the time. 

my friend alyssa sent me this article and it was spot on. go {here} to read about mormon culture and what needs to change. 

knowledge is power and that's what changes the world. our world needs so many things to change. please believe you're worth more than what you look like. please believe that rape is caused solely by rapists. please challenge the system and make those small changes that will lead to bigger changes. 

phew, i'm exhausted. 

as always feel free to email me. collette.charles7@gmail.com 

xo

a hard week.

sometimes you have a good week. sometimes you have an average week. sometimes you have a bad week.

and then sometimes you have a week like i had last week. where you cry every day, several times a day. including in front of your boss. and your heart just aches so much you wish you could go back to feeling numb and avoiding all feelings like you used to when you were even more of a mess.

last week my favorite kid on the unit tried to kill himself.
then after weeks of sexual harassment from male staff at my job, i reported it to my boss.
and then i quit my job.
had a panic attack in my boss's office because of all the terrible memories of sexual assault and not standing up for myself and how afraid i was to report the harassment because i know how scary repercussions can get. 
i also had an ugly disagreement with an in-law that resulted in ugly words between travis and i.

and someone mowed down my wild sunflower patch.

all the while working every day and trying to keep it together while dealing with angry, entitled, messed up teenagers. i love them, but i sometimes want to yell and swear back at them. mostly at their parents for never teaching them values or boundaries or consequences. 

plus travis worked 72 hours at the fire station and other than our anniversary, we didn't see much of each other last week. 

does it sometimes seem like we are all just down here on this earth wounding each other?

i don't have a happy "but what about____" clause for the end of this post. today i'm just documenting the tough things that happened last week.

and hoping this week will be a little easier.

xo

where sunflowers grow.

the first time we saw the house that would end up becoming our home, it had just snowed, masking the landscaping with white fluff. everything looks great when it's covered up. then the snow melted and revealed a pit of despair and mud and weeds in front of our house.

so in daybreak, the developers wanted to keep a lot of the land in its natural looking state, long grasses and wildflowers. except that they put in the long grass and took out the weeds. that is one of the things i love about the community, the unique "more than just manicured grass" look of the landscaping. i also love the location of our house. instead of homes in front of us, we have a huge field and an incredible view of the salt lake valley. unfortunately, the developers didn't finish the landscaping in the field right in front of our house. instead, there is a section filled with dirt, loose gravel, and ever growing weeds. when we first moved in, i made a lot of phone calls about this. i called the HOA committee, who directed me to the builder, who then directed me to the HOA committee. no one wants to pay for it. (although our builder did tell us that they probably will end up taking care of it after they build four more homes on the lot next to our neighbors'.)

basically, i was stuck looking out my window at a weed pit. i have cursed that spot of mud and gravel daily since moving in. and then a few weeks ago, one sunflower bloomed. and then another one. and now there is a whole fleet of them. right in front of our house.

(see the tall grass behind the weeds? that is what is supposed to be there.)

they are beautiful! seeing their yellow faces every morning brightens my day so much! i started to think about what i would have missed out on, had the builder finished the landscaping. 

and how the tough things we have to deal with in life sometimes end up leading us to the great things. 

like how i thought moving back from hawaii was the end of my life. but i ended up marrying travis. 

like how i had horrible acne that kept me from doing so many things. but it also kept me from getting close to so many guys i dated who wouldn't have been right for me in the way travis is. 

like how last year when i went back on accutane for my acne, travis and i were driving to a doctor's office i never would have needed otherwise, and we stumbled onto the daybreak community and immediately knew this was where we needed to be. 

like how if i hadn't moved back from hawaii, i never would have taken that gender studies class that helped me to start facing the sexual assault trauma i had buried away. and even though i'm not to the point yet where i can see what good came of the assault, i believe that someday i will understand it better, the way i am starting to understand other trials i have faced in my life. 

we all have struggles. we all deal with things that hurt and that seem impossible. but sunflowers will grow in the patches of weeds that seem so awful. and we will look back and feel thankful for the very things that we struggled with.

xo.

hair.

a few weeks ago i did something i'd been considering for a few months. i decided to get my hair chopped off. when i walked into the salon and told my stylist, amber, to chop it off, she was concerned. and with good reason.

"is everything going ok with your husband?" she asked, and i laughed and assured her things were great.
there is a good reason for her question. it seems that whenever i experience some kind of emotional trauma, i do drastic things to my hair.
if it pleases the court, i present exhibit A.

when i lived in hawaii, i had long, golden hair. alex, that boyfriend i always say i'll talk about and then never do, who was on his mission at the time, liked my hair long and had told me to grow it out while he was gone. in hawaii, i started realizing how much he wasn't the greatest boy for me and started trying to fall out of love with him. trying.
so, naturally, i chopped it all off and dyed it black.

i wrote alex to tell him about my new hair and these were his exact words.
"that's okay. it will grow out before i get home."
a month later, i had it cut even shorter.
that physical act of changing something he didn't want changed, really did help give me the confidence to get over him. a year or so later.

oh, and we can't forget the time i got married and had my hair bleached. as i have mentioned many a time, marriage freaked me out.

yikes.

yeah. so when amber asked if things were going ok with travis, she really was concerned. probably for good reason. but after i convinced her that things were fine, i was just worried my hair was getting thin and wanted to help it look healthier, she agreed to do it. 

after washing my hair and settling me into the swivel chair, amber took a close look at my hair. "it looks thinner, doesn't it?" i asked her, worried about how quiet she was being. she lifted a lock of hair and showed me in the mirror. 

"it's strange. "she said. and then kept looking at my roots and then the tips. "if you look here at the bottom, you can see the very last of the bleach from when we took you blonde." she motioned upward a bit more. "and here is where we dyed it back to brown. and then here is where we dyed it most recently, brown again. but the hair looks so thin, and so unhealthy. i've never seen your hair like this." she pondered over it for another few minutes. " if you look at the roots, though, these three inches are growing in thick and normal. it almost looks like you went through something really stressful or traumatic about eight or nine months ago." 

eight or nine months ago, you say? 

like exactly around the time i was seriously depressed and considering ending my life? 

when i finally started to confront the assault and understand my PTSD? 

"funny you should say that." i told her. "nine months ago i started going to counseling for some things that happened a long time ago." she smiled and made a comment about taking up the profession of a psychic or something. and recommended a multi vitamin to help my hair continue to heal. 

and the thinning, sickly hair? she cut it off. literally cut off the damage my hair showed from my trauma. 

like any time you have a lot of hair cut off, it felt light and free. and if you're following my metaphor here, it was more than just hair that felt lighter. 

(i didn't take a proper "before" picture, apologies. 

a lot more hair came off than it appears from this picture.) 

hair doesn't lie.

(like how if you drug test someone's hair, it's way more accurate because the drugs stay in the hair longer. seriously.) 

like i was saying, hair doesn't lie. my hair says that nine months ago i experienced something extremely stressful and traumatic. it also says that my roots are growing in strong and healthy. 

a few days after my haircut, i was triggered by being somewhere that brings up awful, terrible memories. like always, i have a cycle of numbness, denial, anger, panic, and depression. i can always feel myself slipping back into the cycle and feeling powerless to stop it. but this time, as i experienced that panic and tried to breathe through it, think through the terror that overtakes everything, i remembered those three inches of healthy hair. it didn't stop the panic, the anger, or the depression that followed, but it was something to hold on to and consider. 

i'm taking vitamins for the hair. 

and hope for the rest.

xo

asking for help, aka getting uncomfortably personal and begging you to solve all my problems

it is too easy to become bogged down with doubts, anxiety, and worry.
why is it that when we accomplish something, our elation at success lasts such a brief moment?
was it only three weeks ago that we moved into our house and i felt that life could never get better? how does a person hold on to that joy, rather than becoming consumed with new worries and problems?

it's just been a rough week.

i really, really appreciate all your comments about bravery, because brave was the last thing i felt this week.
things are about to get pretty personal up in here.

it seemed like every single thing that could have happened to trigger my PTSD, happened in the last week. good timing too, since i have been taking a break from counseling to see how i do on my own. yeah, not doin' so hot. i want my training wheels back.

i guess it started about a month ago. but i'll back up even further than that. so the guy who assaulted me, i drive by his house to get to my parents'. he still lives there. he is unemployed, addicted to hard drugs, and not doing anything with his life. so a few months into counseling, i did something that was unprecedented. usually, i would drive by his house and pointedly not look, because i didn't want to relive those memories. this time i drove by, without thinking about it, i raised my hand to his house and flipped him off. and then started laughing uncontrollably. and then cried. and since then, every time i drive by, i flip him the bird. and sometimes add some yelling for good measure, like "screw you!" at the top of my lungs. immature? maybe. but it's the only way i have found to confront him and it makes me feel a little stronger. that small gesture is the most i have ever stood up for myself to him.

ok, so a month ago, i drove by, prepared to do my flip off, and noticed that he had just pulled in the driveway. and the panic hit in the pit of my stomach like it always does. part of me wanted to roll down my window and scream and part of me wanted to hide in a dark hole forever and ever. after that happened, it seemed like everything else just piled up on top. seeing a guy i used to date right after everything terrible happened, seeing that guy who is married with a baby on the way, seeing his eyes land on my chest the way they always used to, like that was the only thing i had that he wanted. because i believed my body was the only valuable part of me for so long.

something that seems the most unfair to me is the way sex can be a trigger. i hate that this beautiful, wonderful thing i have with travis can sometimes lead to horrible memories i locked away. shame, guilt, nausea, so many feelings i don't want to feel when we are together in that way. and they have nothing to do with travis, nothing to do with our love. then i try to hide those feelings from him, but he knows me too well. i end up lying, telling him i'm fine, and then locking myself in the bathroom to deal with my panic attacks alone. i don't think my problems should be his problems, which he completely disagrees with.  he comes looking for me and is so hurt to find me hiding. this doesn't happen every time. but it happened this week and i hate hurting him and i hate that sex can do this to me.

of course, travis is so patient and sweet with me. when i lose control and he sees, i'm terrified that he will leave me. because in that moment, i want to leave myself. of course he never leaves. of course he holds my hand and helps me through it. i feel comfortable enough to cry, to be vulnerable, and i couldn't have that without his support. but then i feel guilty for putting that on his shoulders. like, doesn't he deserve someone stronger, without so much baggage?

told you this was going to be personal. i'm laughing and crying and slightly appalled at how personal this is.

also, have any of you had a really difficult time graduating from college? last night in the car, pandora played a slew of songs that i was obsessed with at different points of my college experience and i ended up bawling my eyes out. travis was pretty confused and i didn't express my feelings very well. as i have said before, college taught me so much about myself and i am so depressed to see it ending. it just seems like the end of my youth (stupid, i know) and the beginning of being an adult. and i hate all those adult options!! full time job or start popping out babies. i just feel trapped. travis asked me, "well what do you want to do with your life?"  without missing a beat, i responded with, "go to the beach. (duh!)"

which, now that i think about it, was the same thing i told everyone i was going to do after high school.

gah! just having a rough time of it. can't believe only three weeks ago we moved in here and i thought life would never be hard again. #facepalm

yesterday, i got online to start the job hunt and found nothing. so then i called my doctor's office to schedule getting the IUD out. because obviously to avoid getting a job i have to get pregnant. and then luckily the doctor's office was already closed because having a baby to avoid the failure of not getting a job after spending all that money on college is obviously a bad idea. and then i think, switch it around- if you get a great job, you'll have an excuse to not have a baby because of how great the job is. plus think how rich you'll be.

... what the h?? 

how do i do this? how do i grow up and why is it always so hard? am i just looking at everything from a negative point of view? will i ever want to be a mother? why am i so scared of having a baby? why do i just want to hide under my covers all day?

someone just tell me what to do, kthanks.

xo

rape 101

i'm at the library, trying to revise a final paper, but waiting on feedback from my professor. i just attended my last sensation and perception class, and i didn't even fall asleep. not like last week, when my professor chucked a paper clip at me and rudely ended my 45 minute nap. plus my mouth was open, so it was a major choking hazard. definitely gonna put that on his teacher evaluation.

things have been insanely busy. between gearing up for finals, writing my orgasm paper, being a bridesmaid in my friend's wedding, throwing travis a surprise birthday party, photo shoots, getting ready to graduate and taking care of all those annoying details like announcements and planning, i have not had much time to write.

and i need to find a job asap. um. how does an adult find a job? when i used to hunt for summer jobs to save for college, i would just put on a professional looking outfit and walk through department stores asking if they were hiring. i feel like it's not okay to go to psych wings in hospitals and do the same. or where ever else i could work. where am i going to work? will someone please just make this decision for me? isn't the whole point of college to prepare you for the occupation you have chosen? how is it that i'm graduating and still have no idea what to be?

deep breaths.

so sometime when i'm home and have my camera handy, i'll do the whole "pictures of my house, the surprise party, the cute wreath i made, my flower garden, friend's wedding" post.  but right now i want to talk about a conversation i had with a dear friend a few months ago. and it's about rape, so if that brings up any scary feelings or memories for you, read at your own discretion.

i've been wanting to say all this for a while but it's just so much easier to post cute pictures of my house and talk about the "fun" parts of life. i have a family member who gets upset when i talk about things like rape or abuse, and asks me why i focus on such depressing issues. why can't we just talk about something else. well i'll tell you, it would be so much easier to just talk about the good stuff, but if we don't talk about the scary things, how are we ever going to fix them? as much as i wish it would, ignoring something does not make it go away.

so my friend and i were talking about her first experience with sex. she was young and the boy was cold about it. he would tell her that she didn't need to love a person to have sex with him and that he didn't love her, that her personality just didn't work for him. she was young, insecure, and afraid. all along, she had believed it was consensual and she had been so ashamed of herself for it. they had dated on and off, but he never wanted to commit to being her boyfriend. and every time she went back to him, she felt more ashamed. this was the story she had always told me.

the night we talked about this, she told me how she had been reading a textbook definition of rape. reading that definition, she began to think about her own first experience with sex. how she had said no, multiple times, or that he was hurting her, and that he hadn't stopped. she had thought that because she wasn't screaming, or fighting, or calling for help or in a dark alley with a stranger, that sex had been consensual. she read the definition and realized the truth of what had happened to her.

she is an adult. a college student. a well educated person. the public school system never taught her about rape or how to protect herself. (and i'm opening up a whole other can of worms here with that.)

i thought about my own experience. how i blamed myself for everything and lied to my parents about what had happened because i was afraid of what he would do if he knew i had told. so i knew that something had happened that wasn't supposed to happen, but i thought it was my fault. then when i started tenth grade, a rape crisis counselor came to our health class and talked about sexual assault. that if you were afraid, or said no, or were afraid to say no, or were coerced, or held against your will, etc, etc, etc, that what happened wasn't consensual. i thought that rape meant a woman wearing a short skirt walking down a dark alley late at night.

then last year, i had an experience at the fire station that blew me away. before i say this, i want you to know that travis works with amazing men. they are so willing to help and so willing to risk their lives for others. but this conversation was alarming and can't be excused.

one night i visited travis at work. we were sitting around talking with all the guys. they asked me how school was going, what classes i was taking, etc. i started talking to them about my gender studies class and our discussion on rape that day. it was a spark igniting a bomb. all of a sudden, everyone was talking all at once, talking about girls who tease men, about kobe bryant and how unfair it is that women have so much power to ruin a good man's name. these men were instantly angry. i was confused. "so wait. if you're with a woman and she is flirting with you and the idea of having sex with you, and then she changes her mind, you would still go for it?" i asked.
"if she's going to be a tease, she needs to see it through!" the men agreed.
"okay, but if you're about to have sex and she changes her mind for any reason, you wouldn't respect that?" i asked, specifically.
"she can't just expect me to stop if she is going to be a tease!" they answered.

i was floored. floored. grown men who i trusted and admired. grown men telling me how wrong it is for a woman to lead on a guy, get him all hot and bothered, and then say no. that they wouldn't accept no for an answer.

then the captain appeared in the doorway.
"i'll tell you what." he said in a low voice. "if some guy was with my daughter and didn't respect her saying no, i would f*** that guy up."

then the men looked at their feet and agreed.

it took a man, their captain, saying what i had been saying to them for twenty minutes, to get their attention.

teach your children about sexual assault. teach your parents. teach your boyfriend, husband, girlfriend, wife, aunts, uncles, niece, nephews, everyone.

these are facts.

if a woman chooses to wear revealing attire and go out late at night, she is not asking for it. 
the person doesn't have to be a stranger for it to be sexual assault, rape, or molestation.
if you are uncomfortable, say no, are afraid to say no, or are being threatened in any way- words or weapons, it is not consensual.
just because you weren't screaming for help, doesn't mean you consented.
it is not the survivor's fault. i'll say it again, louder.
it is not the survivor's fault. 

it doesn't matter where you were, what you were wearing, if you were flirting, what time of night it was, if you were walking home alone, etc. it was not your fault; the blame lies with the perpetrator. 

get educated and get the people around you educated. read this: {here} to get started.
it's almost impossible that someone in your life hasn't gone through this.
let's teach each other the truth so that we don't have to find out what really happened to us from a textbook.

as always, email me if you have experience with sexual assault and need someone to talk to.
collette.charles7@gmail.com

xo

that time travis might be pregnant: worrying, rambling, and awkward jokes.

monday morning.
between my sprained back and travis waking up to run to the bathroom and puke all morning, we are in sorry shape.
"are you pregnant travis?!"
not funny.
i did the take-temperature-with-back-of-my-hand technique and he doesn't seem to be running a fever.
(don't you love our english language? if you have a fever you're running a fever. if you want to soak in a bathtub, you draw a bath. that's half the fun of taking a bath, that you get to say things like, "i'm going to draw a hot bath." rather, shall. other intelligent sounding words. )

but i digress.

i'm doing much better. i can move my head almost all the way around. like an owl. no, but i don't just have to rely on the rods in my peripheral vision to do my seeing for me, which is a huge relief since rods don't see color or detail very well. and yes, i'm studying for my sensation and perception class all the time.
if you're nerdy and like knowledge, check it out. {here}
if you've known that for your whole life, props.

so travis is sick. but i don't think he has a fever; i think he ate something yucky. yucky. i'm practicing my momspeak, since travis is pregnant and all.

when i was sick growing up, it was almost a treat. skip school, lay on the couch with full remote control power, and trays of food brought to you. blue popscicles for sore throats, homemade chicken noodle soup for the flu. mom rubbing your back to help you fall asleep. moms are the best.

the other day before travis took me to instacare, i asked him to help me get dressed, which he was pretty good at, and let's be honest, how different is that from taking my clothes off, which he has real talent for. but then when i asked him to help me put my hair in a ponytail, he was pretty confused. it took a few tries and he was very gentle, afraid to hurt my head. which reminded me of the few times my mom wasn't around to do my hair before school in elementary school. my dad getting frustrated and my hair looking terrible. to his credit, my dad is bald and has been since i was young.

i'm not even sure what i'm trying to get at here. it was just interesting to sleep at my parents' house and let them baby me all weekend. i hadn't slept there since before i was married. my mom had to work all weekend and my dad ended up being the one to sit with me at the doctor's, to bring me lunch on a tray, and to make sure i took enough drugs and drank enough water. my mom rubbed the knots out of my back and let me read her copy of mockingjay, even though she had been waiting all week to get a chance to read it. i have a hard time letting people do things for me. it's difficult for me to open up, even to the people i love, but it was amazing to feel the love my family has for me. i guess ever since i was 18 and moved out, i have liked to picture myself as this independent woman, who can take care of everything herself. it was kinda nice to lean on my parents again.

there isn't a point to this. i'm just thankful for my family and my parents. last night travis and i were talking, about the future, the past, and i asked him what he would do if i never feel ready to have a baby. (if it seems like anxiety about having babies dominates a large part of my life, it's because it does. but my sister in law is expecting and we had seen them earlier that night, which led to discussion about the future, me working, if i would want to keep working, etc.) travis told me i need to stop worrying about it. yeah, right. i guess part of why i worry so much is that i don't think i could handle my child going through what i had to deal with. and feeling responsible for all of that. i have a hard enough time with feeling protective of every girl i know and feeling like i have to keep bad things from happening to them. how will i ever handle being responsible for my own? making sure she respects herself, and believes in herself, and never lets anyone use her.
and then if it's a boy, how do i make sure he never treats a girl the way i was treated?
(and yes, i know that men/boys are often victims of assault, harassment, bullying, etc. too. and that women/girls can be perps, too. just covering mah bases here.)

yeah, yeah, yeah. same old stuff right?

some days i just think, maybe if i just get pregnant, i'll be able to face everything and stop worrying. worrying is way worse than actually dealing with fears. maybe.
then i remember the IUD being lodged in my uterus, and there IS NO WAY THAT THING IS COMING OUT.

my dad has always told me to enjoy the ride of life. just enjoy each stage and stop sprinting to the next one. but i'm a goal oriented person. how does a person work toward their goals, but still enjoy the journey it takes to get there?

omg, is that the secret?

i think that's enough babbling.
i'm going to go check on my puke-y man and make sure he's doin' okay.
here's to a week of enjoying the journey. even if the journey means moving out, sleeping at the inlaws', writing a major paper, and trudging to school in the snow. uphill. barefoot.

cheers!

strong

two posts in the span of five hours? yes, i must have a test to study for.

but.
i just got back from counseling and i am bursting with good feelings and hope.
and since that last post was a little downer, and although i think it's important to say the good and the bad, i wanted to say a few things that are positive.

i believe in God.
 not a "cold, all powerful, lighting bolt throwing, judgement pronouncing, black and white God", but in an actual being who knows me personally and cares for my every day well being.
i know in this day and age, proclaiming to believe in God can produce all kinds of feelings and negative connotations, because of so many who parade their agendas in the name of deity and actually do a great amount of harm.
i believe in a God who loves every person on this earth, regardless of what they believe, look like, or how they act. i also believe that only God knows us well enough to cast judgement on us and that when evaluating our actions, he includes mercy, empathy, and kindness toward us. this can be really hard to remember, that God is in charge of judging us, and that we are not capable of knowing what is in a person's heart. but i try to leave it to Him.

ok, so I believe in God, so what?
I am feeling really thankful to God right now.
Last week i was having a rough day. it had been two weeks since i had gone to counseling, and i knew i should probably schedule a session, but i was feeling that it was pointless. that it wouldn't change anything, and that i should just go back to avoiding, not fighting, and not trying to heal. i was feeling a lot of things and having thoughts i hadn't had in a long time. travis told me i needed to call and schedule a session, but i was avoiding it.
while i was at the library studying, my phone rang. and it was jessica, my counselor. she wanted to make sure she hadn't forgotten to book an appointment for me so she wouldn't stand me up if i came in the next day, because fridays are usually our appointment days. it worked out that she had a spot open up today.

a person could look at that small experience and chalk it up to coincidence. i mean, it wasn't like God himself called me. but i truly believe jessica was meant to be my counselor, because she is so easy to talk to and relates so well to me, and i truly believe she was meant to call me on that day, of all days, when i was so down and out.

today in counseling, i confronted things that i haven't said out loud because of how terrifying they are. but i confronted them and even though i still remember, and they are still part of me, i am stronger for facing them. i don't feel weak and incapable right now. i know that i am not alone and that God places us in each other's lives for reasons we don't always understand at first, but that help us to feel joy. i am so incredibly thankful for my life, that i am able to live here and learn things, even though at times it's painful, it's messy, and it's awful. because those things make us strong.

i am thankful for a loving God who knows me and my struggles, and who cares about them, even trivial things like getting docked five points on my orgasm paper. i am thankful for my travis. it's so scary to love someone and trust him to love all of you, but it has been so worth it. i'm thankful for family and dear friends. i'm thankful for you and for your comments of hope and believing. i talk about you in counseling and how you have really helped me to not feel so alone, so thank you.
we all really are stronger than we know. 
if you ever need anything, don't hesitate to get in touch with me.
love. xo

believe

you know those days when you don't believe in yourself? and you feel like you could never succeed? yeah i had one of those yesterday. sitting in my research methods class, a voice seemed to say to me, you're going to fail all your classes. you aren't going to graduate this may because you're going to fail your test next week. and if you even do graduate, you won't be able to find a job because no one would want to hire you. and don't even think about starting your own photography business, because you're a fake, and you don't know anything, and no one would ever trust you to take their pictures. then i started to think about how if all of that happens, i'll just be sitting home all day and then everyone will tell me to have a baby, which then led to my panicked thoughts of motherhood and how i'm not ready and probably never will be and if i did have a baby, i would ruin him/her because i'm not fit to be a mother.

all of these thoughts in the span of three minutes.
when i talked to travis later, i tentatively tried them out on him, telling him i felt stressed out and like i'm a failure. because jessica, my counselor, has been helping me understand how important it is to communicate with travis when i feel down, instead of just keeping it all inside like usual. travis, of course, was very understanding about everything. he reassured me that i'm not a failure, and that i have never failed at anything i really tried to do.
then he told me that i don't even have to work.
"well what am i supposed to do all day long?" i asked.
"there are quite a few seasons of desperate housewives you could re-watch." he replied.

although that sounds really enticing, i woke up this morning and decided to act. i'm afraid to say this out loud, because someone may laugh and i just care way too much about what everyone thinks of me.
i want to be a photographer.
not like a national geographics photographer who becomes famous, or someone who shoots for the new york times, or anything like that, but someone who takes pictures of families, weddings, and babies.
i have had several people caution me that it's harder than i think, which everything usually is, and that i shouldn't do it just because everyone else is doing it. well, it turns out when i have a camera in my hands, i'm pretty happy. it's like that feeling i get when i play music, like i can't get enough of it. i dream about my camera, i take it everywhere with me, it sleeps next to my bed.
this is getting a little creepy... 
and i'm not looking for compliments here, although no one ever wishes not to have compliments, but what i'm trying to say is that i'm going to try for this dream. a lot of times in the past when i really wanted something, but was afraid of failure or that people would criticize me, or that i wouldn't be the best, i would just quit. not even try. but i want this to be different. i want to believe in myself. why is it so easy for us to believe we can't succeed?

so while i should have been in my weight lifting class, i created this blog. it's not perfect, and there is hardly anything on it, but it's a start. 

so if you know of anyone who wants their picture taken for cheap (or you readers want pictures for free because i love people who follow my blog) please direct them to my photography blog.

this saturday i am meeting with a girl who wants me to do her wedding.
i'm terrified!
but excited.
so anyway, believe in your dreams, even though it's scary.
i was talking to some friends last week and one of them is an aspiring musician. he is really, really talented. but when people ask him what he's doing with his life, he's embarrassed to say, "i'm in a band and i play music." he is afraid they will judge him and think, who are you to be successful at what you love. i told him he should own it, and not be afraid, to have some confidence. later, a wise friend told me that i should follow my own advice.  it's always easier to believe in other people, rather than yourself.

but this is a start. thanks for all your love. xo

the luckiest

last night i heard a song i hadn't heard in years. and it just hit me so hard. you know when you hear a song you haven't heard in a long time and it makes you remember the last time you heard it?
the last time i heard that song, i was in a sad place. i just knew i would always be alone, that i would never find someone who would make me understand this song from a lover's point of view. i wanted to be the luckiest and feared i never would. i can remembering listening to this song on repeat late at night, over and over and over, and sobbing. i was missing alex, who was on his mission, and feeling convinced that i would never find real love.

i heard it last night in travis's sister's car. travis and i were sitting in the backseat together. it was dark, and the music was loud. all those emotions i felt the last time i heard it came flooding back, but they were accompanied by an overwhelming feeling of safety, gratitude, and love for travis. for such a long time i was convinced i would always be alone and never find someone who can handle my crazy, my stubbornness, my flaws, fears, self criticizing doubts, just everything. sometimes it hits me and almost literally takes my breath away, he loves me. 

then the song came to the last verse, about the old man who dies and then the wife goes too, and i lost it. sitting in the backseat of the car, and even now as i listen to it while writing this, i cry. i think about my grandpa who is sick with cancer and his wife being all alone if he dies, wandering around their big, empty house. i think about travis and i growing old, and how terrifying it is to love someone and take that risk, the risk of losing. i think about how our life together has just begun, how young we are, and how far we have left to travel together.

if you are currently alone and afraid, i know how awful that is. i know what it is to feel alone in a crowded, dirty, apartment. you watch everyone else find love and you feel left behind. it won't always be that way for you. maybe in a few years you will hear this song again and cry just as i did, in thankfulness.

 i'm so grateful for my life and that i have a person who shares it with me. when i remember just a few months ago, when i was so low, and compare it to now, it's just amazing.

a few weeks ago, i was treated unfairly by a family member. i was complaining to travis how unfair it was and he made an excuse for that family member, a valid, solid excuse. but that morning, i had gone to counseling and relived a particularly painful memory. i described to my counselor the first time he had assaulted me and how i can't remember exactly what happened, but that i can so clearly remember walking home from his house. even now, it's hard to say this. i remember walking home alone, in the early spring weather. it was about four thirty in the afternoon. i stood looking at my house from across the street, thinking my mom would wonder where i had been, that she would be preparing dinner soon, and that i had a soccer game later that night. i vividly remember thinking to myself, well, what happened, happened, and i'm done thinking about it. and then walking into my front door, like i had always done, except that i wasn't the same person anymore.

since then, anytime i have remembered that 14 year old girl, i have felt contempt, shame, guilt, anger at her for being so stupid, and self hatred. in counseling as i described this memory, i felt those things. i felt that my counselor probably also thought those things about that girl who let a boy use her and didn't stand up for herself. even though i can remember fighting back. for so long i felt i hadn't fought hard enough. and now, i'm a person who stands up for herself, so it's difficult to remember being a person who didn't have a voice. for so long, i have hated that 14 year old girl.

my counselor has been sending me home with reading materials about different ways to think about trauma, how you can approach those terrible thoughts with curiosity, acceptance, and patience, instead of shame, fear, and anger. and as i listened to travis make those valid excuses for the family member who hurt my feelings, i thought, no one ever made those excuses for me. i never made those kinds of excuses for me. all i ever did was hate that helpless girl. i never looked at her and said, "it's ok. you didn't know how to handle it. how could you have ever known what to do? it wasn't your fault and you are part of who i am and i love you."

and then something incredible happened.  i wept for her, that helpless, scared, junior high girl who didn't understand how a boy could take something without asking. that girl who just wanted to be liked, to be thought pretty. it wasn't her fault. it wasn't my fault. 


i grabbed onto travis and just wept into his shoulder. he knew why i was crying and he let me cling to him, something i had never done before, preferring to either hold it in or battle it out in private where no one could see my weakness. it's terrifying to let someone in, to let someone see you at your lowest. i truly am the luckiest. 

i don't hate her anymore. i am learning to look at her with sympathy and kindness, instead of cold indifference. it's the start of something. and i am so thankful for that.

being brave, part II

so. what i'm going to say is pretty scary. i have been trying to get up the courage to write this for a long time.

you know how i'm all about being honest on this blog? saying the good, bad, and ugly?
i haven't been honest. i haven't been open.

i have butterflies in my stomach. i might chicken out.

i'm afraid for several reasons.
1. any person who reads this will think of me as completely different.
2. i'm afraid of backlash.
3. i don't want to be seen as a victim.

well if this is so scary, then why am i sharing? i want to share this because i know that one out of any four, if not more, women, (and yes, some men too) have gone through what i'm dealing with in some form. i want those men and women to read this and know that they aren't alone and that there is help and hope out there.

ok.
several months ago, i almost ended my life.
yes, i know what some of you may be thinking. suicide is selfish. how could you even consider doing that to your loved ones. let me tell you, if you are thinking these things, it is because you have never been so low that those things didn't matter. when the only option that sounds reasonable is for life to be over, you aren't thinking about being selfish. you're thinking of an end to your pain.

when i was 14 years old, i was sexually assaulted multiple times over a period of about six months. he was a neighbor boy, a year older than me. i thought he was going to be my first kiss.
it's a very long, messy, terrible story that i'm not really ready to share. but it involved enormous amounts of betrayal, guilt, pain, self loathing, the whole bit.

so then at 15, i actually attempted suicide. when that didn't take, i went on to date many boys who used me, belittled me, and who only proved to me that no one could be trusted and that i probably wasn't worth anything.

i have spent the past eight years cycling through repressing, remembering, shutting down, shutting others out, blaming myself, using obsessive compulsive behaviors to trick myself into feeling like i have control, denying, and trying to hide. sometimes i would really think everything was going to be ok, that i was finally over what happened. then, i would see his car, or hear a song that reminded me of him, or even on several occasions, run into him at the mall or the movies. i ran away to college and tried to forget everything, but every time i dated someone who tried to feel me up, it all came back. it was always there, just beneath the surface of my smiling confidence.

i slept through high school. my mom, concerned with my parent teacher reports of me "always sleeping through class," took me to our family doctor to test for anemia. no one knew i had depression. it didn't even cross the doctor's mind.

meanwhile, the boys who had been involved bullied me at school, peed on my house, and made their message clear that i was to keep quiet about everything. one boy who was involved used to scream "you're disgusting! whore!" when he saw me in school.

i used to see him with his girlfriend in the halls and wonder if she knew him in the same way i did. i doubted it.

i didn't know how to open up about this. poor travis wasn't sure how to handle it, but after things got really bad a few months ago, he basically "forced" me to go to counseling.

i meet all the criteria in the DSM-IV for PTSD.

my counselor's name is jessica and she is wonderful. i highly recommend therapy. i'm doing better than i have been since i was that 14 year old girl. it's just nice to have a safe place and a safe person to open up to. right now jessica is helping me to understand the things that trigger the memories and understand that the reactions i have- panic attacks, intrusive thoughts, fear, etc,- are not me, but reactions of PTSD. i've been going to counseling for about eight weeks now and it's really helping. next week, travis is going to come with me and hopefully i'll start learning how to open up to him about everything and let him in.

if you are a survivor of sexual assault or molestation, please know that your life doesn't have to be defined by what happened to you. it wasn't your fault. you don't have to live in fear or deal with it all on your own. i wouldn't have believed that a few months ago, and maybe you don't right now either, but please, please, don't think you are alone.

i know that some of you may read this and think, wow, she really over-shared this time. this is not the appropriate venue for her to work on this. to those people i say, you are part of the problem. our culture needs to address these things, instead of blaming the victim and keeping everything swept under the rug.

i want to say a quick thank you to travis. it really is a miracle that we are together. i never thought i would find a person who cared so much and was so selfless. i never dreamed i could trust someone like i trust travis.

also, a thank you to two dear friends who reminded me why i wanted to live. you both know who you are.

if you have questions or want to talk about a similar experience, please email me. collette.charles7@gmail.com.

horn tooting

ok so i submitted a piece to a feminist blog a few weeks ago, not really thinking it would ever run, but they posted it! on the front page! :) i'm probably more excited than i need to be, but i really hope this explains a little more of what feminism is and why it's so important. it's very personal and i hope it doesn't offend any of you. i meant it to be helpful to anyone who is struggling with these kinds of problems.

this is the link: http://thefbomb.org/2011/04/dear-feminism/

check out the rest of the site; it's really great! :)