“Only when we are brave enough to explore the darkness will we discover the infinite power of our light.” - Brene Brown
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With all of the #metoo posts, I felt compelled to write. And.. I am not sure what it means. Not sure how often I will write now, but it feels good to be back here, typing it all out.
“Me Too”
I guarantee anyone reading this saw it. Whether it was on your Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, or any other form of social media. Millions of people posted it. It was overwhelming, to say the least. It had me reading article after article, blog after blog, story after story of people opening up about their experiences. It was scary, it was heartbreaking, it was intense, it was hard and it was emotional.. but it was also inspiring to see everyone’s bravery in regards to such a hard hitting subject like sexual harassment / abuse (in any form, from any person).
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I don’t think I realized how many stories would hit as close to home as they did. Whether is was friends opening up about the cat calls on the street, or the fear of walking home late at night past a group of men, to hearing horror stories of abuse that happened in their life - it was all moving enough for me to take a deeper look at my own experiences. So. Here I go.
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I’ve really come to terms with the fact that growing up uncomfortable in my own skin for so long, ((because of a (long) list of reasons that really all come down to my lack of self confidence, I think)) unfortunately led me to make excuses for the things I went through. Excuse after excuse. That was always just how it was. If it was happening to me, it/I was normal. Someone put it perfectly.. It was always, ‘boys will be boys’. For so long, I didn’t think twice about some of, or, a lot of it.
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At age 13, (and frankly, probably even younger. I ‘matured’ early as some people put it) walking down the street getting honked at and cat called. “Oh, if that man thinks I am attractive, I can dislike myself less today.” But not actually realizing that was going through my head. I was 13, it just seemed… regular.
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At age 15, walking through the halls of my high school in the school uniform and getting my ass slapped. Thinking that “if that guy thinks I am attractive, I am doing something right. Maybe it’s okay that I don’t completely love how I look today, because he seemed to.” Almost waiting for it to happen. Seeking a validation, almost. Literally walking past some of the guys in my high school and wondering if he was going to reach out and tap my butt. Again, just seemed.. regular.
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At age 18, coming to in a junior’s bed with him on top of me, me telling him to stop but him doing the exact opposite. Somehow getting back to my dorm room. Showering and trying to forget it happened. To later that week walking with a teammate and her boyfriend at the time (who had heard the junior talking about it in the LOCKER room) and I mentioned how I “barely remembered it” and “I was pretty drunk”.. and him saying, “well that’s not a good thing no matter what”. I brushed it off. I pretended it wasn’t a thing. I was drunk. Extremely drunk. I remember feeling so uneasy that this person on the outside looking in at the situation thought it wasn’t a good thing that happened. It was a big deal junior thinking I was attractive? I was probably fine. Its whatever. It was another validation, I guess… To this day I see pictures of him, every once in awhile, and it reminds of that night, of that time in my life, and it shows me, which a swift punch, that the pit in my stomach will never actually leave.
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It wasn’t until years later that I finally opened up to one of my best friends about that experience that night freshman year. I vividly remember texting her, opening up about it. It was around the time the Stanford rape case made headlines. It was that headline, that top story, that triggered me to talk about it with her. A whopping 7 years later. Why did it take me so long to talk to her about it? To talk to really anyone about it? Not totally sure why, but I am grateful that she allowed me to open up about it and listened and shared her experiences with me. It reminded me that I wasn’t alone. I wasn’t meant to hold it in. We’re not meant to hold it in..
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This could go on. From drunk men telling me what they want to do to me at the bar at age 22, to the stares and the un-welcomed gestures at age 24. It happens more often than people may realize. I think because it's been such a *regular* part of being a female in this world we live in, we’ve become somewhat numb to it. It’s just always been part of “it”; part of living life as a female.. I’m not sure if I get it more now, than I did before, but it is absolutely still a big part of my life.
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I feared writing this. I think for so long, for such a HUGE part of my life, I was searching for a way to feel accepted. Whether that was from a man or friends or society, it was always apparent that my self-love was always pretty minimal. For years and years I thought that’s just how it was. I hated how I looked and felt in my own skin, but if a man told me I was a “sexy piece of ass” then maybe I was? *shoulder shrug emoji*
It wasn’t until I started looking inward; started really working on loving myself for the imperfect, brave, mistake-making human that I am; reminding myself on a daily basis that I am ‘ENOUGH’, just as I am, that I have been able to come to terms with what I went through, and what we women continue to go through.
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I stand with you. I support you. I am here, learning my way through this thing we call life, healing through it, just like you. I still think about it. I still hurt from it all. I still want to scream and cry and thrash my fists around because of it, but less often. And I don’t think we’ve seen even close to the end of it, in fact, I know we haven’t. But the bravery I’ve seen in the last few days, from the simple Me Too’s alone, gives me hope. ‘You learn courage by couraging’. So let’s be brave together when bravery is needed. Let’s support each other when we feel helpless. Let’s stand in each others’ corners no matter what. Why? Because you are enough, just the way you are. Right now. ‘Only Up From Here’.
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Two days later disclaimer:
I wasn’t sure I was going to post this anywhere.
Wasn’t sure if it was necessary.
I was scared, because a lot of people don’t know this about me. I can count on one hand the number of people I’ve told.
I wasn’t sure I wanted people to know. To feel like they had to treat me differently. (plz dont)
A big part of me was just writing to write.
Thinking about all of it.. “out loud” and “on paper”.
I am posting it, though.
I am putting it out there.
Maybe it can help someone.
Maybe it can give someone a bit more bravery in facing any demon in their life. That’s all I can hope. <33333333
“There isn’t a way things should be. There’s just what happens, and what we do.” Terry Pratchett
