This blog is not going to be Medusa's normal rants or soul sharing. Instead, I'd like to share someone else's story. She deserves for people to know what kind of woman she is, the struggles she has faced, & the true survivor this woman is. For the sake of telling her story, I will refer to her as JM. She is a woman I have known my whole life, who I love dearly, & for whom I have complete admiration.
JM was born the oldest child of a poor rural family. I really do not know much about her childhood, other than she had a total of seven siblings, four sisters and three brothers. One brother died in infancy or early childhood. Her mother died young due to tuberculosis. Her father relied on JM to help raise her siblings but eventually remarried to a sweet woman who mothered his children. JM's father, from what I know, could be a stubborn and hateful man at times.
At age 16, JM married a man twice her age, 32. I do not know about their courtship, but I do
know that he was physically, emotionally, & sexually violent to JM. I was told a story about how JM would run away from her husband's sexual advances, although he would overpower her & caused significant damage to her genitalia & bladder. JM birthed three children, two boys and one girl. The oldest boy was a welcome addition, although I believe she was around 19 or 20 when she had him.
She worked as a seamstress for a local dressmaking manufacturer, gardened for food, raised chickens for food, & made many of their own clothes. Besides working some cattle, her alcoholic husband did not really work. The conditions were so bad or JM that when she became pregnant with their second child, their only daughter, JM took quinine pills in attempt to abort the fetus. It was unsuccessful. When she became pregnant the third time, she again attempted to abort by taking quinine pills. Her actions were out of desperation. Her husband made it clear to the younger
two children that JM had attempted to abort them, even though she truly loves all three of her children. Her children continued the cycle of emotional abuse by taunting JM about the attempted abortions.
JM's husband's abuse was not contained to his wife alone. He regularly emotionally & physically abused their children. At one point, he was beating the younger son so severely that JM pulled out her single shot rifle, pointed it at her husband and was ready to shoot & kill him if he hit his son one more time.
All through this time, JM continued to work. She had to wear dress shoes to work. The shoes did not always fit well so her toes became misshapen due to poorly fit dress shoes. She would prepare every meal. In the mornings, she would ring the neck of one of the chickens, pluck it, clean it, cut it, & fry the chicken for breakfast along with homemade biscuits & whatever else they could afford to eat. The leftovers would often be lunch, and then JM
would return home from a hard day at work & prepare a full supper from scratch. She did this daily for the majority of her adult life.
Eventually, the kids grew up & moved on, got married, & began having their own families. JM's husband began to have failing health due to years of fatty diet, alcoholism, & smoking. He had multiple strokes, & eventually died when JM was around 60 to 62 years old. She never remarried or dated. She was able to become active in her chuch again, something he denied her. She began selling a popular make-up brand & was quite successful. She has a china cabinet full of awards from the make-up company. She doted on her grandchildren, a total of five. Then she got two great-grandchildren & doted on them as well. She would offer up huge meals & family gatherings for holidays, especially Easter.
During this time, she had an accident that permanently & irrevocably injured her back. Arthritis ate away at her knees & hands. JM has had a total of three total knee replacements. Multiple doctors have been shocked at the severity of her back impairment & JM's level of pain tolerance. JM sold the make-up line as long as possible, & even had to cut back her business due to her back pain before she had to finally give up her career. She has survived her husband, almost all of her brothers- & sisters-in-law, two brother, a sister, her youngest son, & many friends & other relatives. After the loss of her son, JM had a bout of blues where it seemed as though she had given up on life. She was diagnosed with lymphoma, and is in remission. She beat cancer in her late 80s! Now, she is battling pulmonary fibrosis, which has a grim mortality rate.
JM continues to be loving to her children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, & even a single great-great-grandchild. All who have had the pleasure of knowing JM have felt the warmth of love she radiates. She has an army of neices & nephews
who adore her. Despite all the hardships faced during her 92 years, JM has been the epitome of survivor. She never talks about her hardships, & if one looks closely into her eyes, one is able to see the years of hard work, personal hardships, loss, & worry in the depths of her eyes, yet they also show a kind of love and care that is rare.
Who i JM? She is my grandmother, her youngest child my father. She spoiled me, indulged my childhood make-up wishes, & always given me the kind of love only a grandmother can give. She is the epitome of survivor, even as she lies in a hospital bed on oxygen fighting for breath & life. I hope I can be more like her, in her strength, courage, & unconditional love. I love her. JM is survivor #1!
Friday, December 31, 2010
Sunday, December 19, 2010
The Healing Journey: Medusa's Story
How long do we really feel victimized? How long does it take to acheive survivor status? I know it is a difficult process. I'm learning that the process is longer than I may have previously thought.
I have made my rape no secret. That's what prompted me to begin blogging. I have also discussed some sexual assault (non-rape) in previous blogs. I have mentioned my father, an alcoholic who was verbally abusive, violent, and emotionally negligent. Then there is the disconnection from most individuals during my school years. With a few exceptions, grade school through high school were lonely years for me.
The thing is, I am a fighter. I fought back in high school by withdrawing and building an imaginary wall to shield myself from others. I fought endlessly with my father. The last fight we had was in a restaurant shortly after his oncologist declared my dad's cancer was back and he probably would not survive. I'm fighting the rape and various sexual assaults with words, with this blog, on facebook, in the real world, and on Twitter when I can remember.
When it comes right down to it, though, I find I become this wounded little girl again when I face off with someone in an authoritative role. I cry, and I run away under the guise of being too good for (fill in appropriate word here). And I've done it again! This time, someone understood. I guess she's been there, too. She called me on it, and told me this is a challenge I will have to overcome to be successful.
How do I do this? Do I fight? Most employers frown on employees fightng back. Although, in a couple of these jobs where I ran, I was called a liar for defending myself. Do I become a "yes-woman" and submit wholly to a supervisor's demands that are unethical or challenge my own beliefs? I still have integrity.
I will have to learn, adapt, and grow. More importantly, I still have a lot of healing to do. And I want you, the reader, to know it takes time to heal. Take that time for yourself, and learn to grow and adapt as you are on the path to healing. I will be.
I have made my rape no secret. That's what prompted me to begin blogging. I have also discussed some sexual assault (non-rape) in previous blogs. I have mentioned my father, an alcoholic who was verbally abusive, violent, and emotionally negligent. Then there is the disconnection from most individuals during my school years. With a few exceptions, grade school through high school were lonely years for me.
The thing is, I am a fighter. I fought back in high school by withdrawing and building an imaginary wall to shield myself from others. I fought endlessly with my father. The last fight we had was in a restaurant shortly after his oncologist declared my dad's cancer was back and he probably would not survive. I'm fighting the rape and various sexual assaults with words, with this blog, on facebook, in the real world, and on Twitter when I can remember.
When it comes right down to it, though, I find I become this wounded little girl again when I face off with someone in an authoritative role. I cry, and I run away under the guise of being too good for (fill in appropriate word here). And I've done it again! This time, someone understood. I guess she's been there, too. She called me on it, and told me this is a challenge I will have to overcome to be successful.
How do I do this? Do I fight? Most employers frown on employees fightng back. Although, in a couple of these jobs where I ran, I was called a liar for defending myself. Do I become a "yes-woman" and submit wholly to a supervisor's demands that are unethical or challenge my own beliefs? I still have integrity.
I will have to learn, adapt, and grow. More importantly, I still have a lot of healing to do. And I want you, the reader, to know it takes time to heal. Take that time for yourself, and learn to grow and adapt as you are on the path to healing. I will be.
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Medusa and Her Struggle with Body Image
Body image is an issue I'm becoming more familiar with as I learn more about fighting sexual violence, ending child abuse, and continue my crusade for what's right and against what's wrong. Body image can be simply described as how one perceives one's own appearance. Body image is related to eating disorders, self-esteem issues, and victimization. Here I'd like to share my own struggle with body image.
I've always been big. In preschool pictures, I stood a head taller than the other kids, and I was much heavier than the other kids. It wasn't that I was fat as a kid, I had a large skeletal frame and a muscular build. This was the time I began to become aware of the physical difference, though. I felt like a giant compared to the other kids at school! As I grew more, my mother would tell me things like, "Oh, you're not fat; you're just pleasingly plump." I was learning to accept that I was fat. I know it was not my mother's intention to label me, she was offering a euphemism for the ugly word "fat".
My father, on the other hand, frequently told me I was fat. He was an alcoholic who could be verbally abusive and often violent, and I understand that his own father was violent and physically and verbally abusive. At one time, my father told me, in a drunken fit, that I was "gonna get so damn fat, he'd have to put a sign in the yard just to marry me off" to some undesirables. A girl doesn't forget that message!
Around the time of junior high, my body began changing again. My breasts werer growing, my hips were getting widers, and my body was maturing faster than I was prepared. Boys began to have conversations with my chest, girls began unhooking my bras, so I began wearing a jacket everyday. It could have been 100 degrees outside, but I was in my jacket. There were other boys that would poke my rear end with the tips of holly leaves (holly bushes grew in front of the school). I began covering as much of myself as I could. I was carrying the fat label, even though I wasn't once puberty hit, as well as hiding my body from everyone.
In high school, girls began to get skinny, very skinny. I could not live up to their skinny! NEVER! So again, I would cover myself, sweaters, sweatshirts, jackets, anything. I remember one girl, particularly skinny, looking at my thighs as I was sitting on my heels on the floor, commenting on how she hates the fat bit that protrudes from your thigh when sitting like that. I never sat like that again. AND, my thighs were muscular at this time, because I spent all summer swimming and the rest of the year riding my bike. I learned over the course of high school that most of these girls who were so skinny had eating disorders, including the one who commented on my thighs.
I went to college, where I gained an eating disorder briefly. I went to college early as part of the college I was accepted to had various programs before the university officially opened. My parents bought some snacks, but we assumed the meal halls were opening. My mom gave me a check for an allowance, but I didn't have a bank account. I got used to nibbling a two or three pieces of dried pineapple and not eating anything else. I was losing weight at an insane rate. It was as though it was melting off me, and I liked it. Sure, I was hungry, but who cares! Over the course of the semester, I began to have dizzy spells, near black outs, and frequent nausea. My friend recognized I was at a crucial point with my anorexia, so she purchased a cheesecake, forced me to eat, and ended my anorexia. But, then I began gaining uncontrollably...
The end of the second sememster was when HE raped me. All of the trauma swirled in my head, and I ate for comfort. Then, I remembered how boys left me alone more when I was covered up. What if I used fat to cover up? It was an almost intentional weight gain to disappear in plain view. I got married during my weight gaining period, and he seemed to love me no matter what, so why should I fight the gain? It didn't solve my problems, though. I still carried the weight trauma, I still carried the issues my dad gave me, I still carried around the feelings of inadequacy from not looking like the "stick girls" in high school. Plus, my health because problematic.
I have a lifelong condition where my neck spine is curved the wrong way and causes debilitating pain. Carrying the weight in excess of 300 lbs only exacerbated my pain. I also have a bulging disc in my lower back, which is definitely not helped by weighing more than 300 lbs. I was beginning to develop high blood pressure, before age 30, and I had sleep apnea because of my weight. Finally, at my neurologist's insistence, I began to lose the weight. Over two years, I've lost more than 76 lbs, so I still have a lot more to lose. This isn't about looking any particular way; this is about me shedding weight, both physical and mental weight!
I still have a long way to reach my neurologist's goal. But I'm working to get there. I am learning to enjoy myself again, and to heal both physically and emotionally. It's hard to let go of those emotional scars. Hearing my father's voice, I can still hear his words echo in my head. But I didn't have to marry an undesirable. I married a really great guy who supports me, loves me, and understands what I'm doing is important. I have reconciled that I will never be a skinny girl. Instead, I have learned that I have curves, quite nice curves that can be dressed well and make me look damn hot. Sometimes I'm insecure, but I fake it and put on this "I'm hot" attitude, and it works. I can do things I never thought I'd be able to do before. For example, I own not one, but TWO, pencil skirts. When your hips and tush are as full as mine, they say don't wear a pencil skirt, but I do!
How does this all relate to my fight against sexual violence? I sometimes wonder, and I'm not blaming myselft, if HE didn't pick up on my insecurities and use them to get me where HE wanted me. I think a lot of society's monsters pick on the weak (as in the insecure, the poor self-esteem, those who will not fight back). I'm making a statement that we need to teach our children, both girls and boys, that they are beautiful and valuable, and they don't have to let anyone hurt them. There will probably be sexual violence for a long time, but if we teach our children that they don't deserve to be treated like that, it would make a difference. Maybe they could fight back; maybe they could avoid predators in the first place. Let me also tell you this: You are beautiful. I have struggled with learning this lesson, but I'm telling you now that YOU are beautiful!
I've always been big. In preschool pictures, I stood a head taller than the other kids, and I was much heavier than the other kids. It wasn't that I was fat as a kid, I had a large skeletal frame and a muscular build. This was the time I began to become aware of the physical difference, though. I felt like a giant compared to the other kids at school! As I grew more, my mother would tell me things like, "Oh, you're not fat; you're just pleasingly plump." I was learning to accept that I was fat. I know it was not my mother's intention to label me, she was offering a euphemism for the ugly word "fat".
My father, on the other hand, frequently told me I was fat. He was an alcoholic who could be verbally abusive and often violent, and I understand that his own father was violent and physically and verbally abusive. At one time, my father told me, in a drunken fit, that I was "gonna get so damn fat, he'd have to put a sign in the yard just to marry me off" to some undesirables. A girl doesn't forget that message!
Around the time of junior high, my body began changing again. My breasts werer growing, my hips were getting widers, and my body was maturing faster than I was prepared. Boys began to have conversations with my chest, girls began unhooking my bras, so I began wearing a jacket everyday. It could have been 100 degrees outside, but I was in my jacket. There were other boys that would poke my rear end with the tips of holly leaves (holly bushes grew in front of the school). I began covering as much of myself as I could. I was carrying the fat label, even though I wasn't once puberty hit, as well as hiding my body from everyone.
In high school, girls began to get skinny, very skinny. I could not live up to their skinny! NEVER! So again, I would cover myself, sweaters, sweatshirts, jackets, anything. I remember one girl, particularly skinny, looking at my thighs as I was sitting on my heels on the floor, commenting on how she hates the fat bit that protrudes from your thigh when sitting like that. I never sat like that again. AND, my thighs were muscular at this time, because I spent all summer swimming and the rest of the year riding my bike. I learned over the course of high school that most of these girls who were so skinny had eating disorders, including the one who commented on my thighs.
I went to college, where I gained an eating disorder briefly. I went to college early as part of the college I was accepted to had various programs before the university officially opened. My parents bought some snacks, but we assumed the meal halls were opening. My mom gave me a check for an allowance, but I didn't have a bank account. I got used to nibbling a two or three pieces of dried pineapple and not eating anything else. I was losing weight at an insane rate. It was as though it was melting off me, and I liked it. Sure, I was hungry, but who cares! Over the course of the semester, I began to have dizzy spells, near black outs, and frequent nausea. My friend recognized I was at a crucial point with my anorexia, so she purchased a cheesecake, forced me to eat, and ended my anorexia. But, then I began gaining uncontrollably...
The end of the second sememster was when HE raped me. All of the trauma swirled in my head, and I ate for comfort. Then, I remembered how boys left me alone more when I was covered up. What if I used fat to cover up? It was an almost intentional weight gain to disappear in plain view. I got married during my weight gaining period, and he seemed to love me no matter what, so why should I fight the gain? It didn't solve my problems, though. I still carried the weight trauma, I still carried the issues my dad gave me, I still carried around the feelings of inadequacy from not looking like the "stick girls" in high school. Plus, my health because problematic.
I have a lifelong condition where my neck spine is curved the wrong way and causes debilitating pain. Carrying the weight in excess of 300 lbs only exacerbated my pain. I also have a bulging disc in my lower back, which is definitely not helped by weighing more than 300 lbs. I was beginning to develop high blood pressure, before age 30, and I had sleep apnea because of my weight. Finally, at my neurologist's insistence, I began to lose the weight. Over two years, I've lost more than 76 lbs, so I still have a lot more to lose. This isn't about looking any particular way; this is about me shedding weight, both physical and mental weight!
I still have a long way to reach my neurologist's goal. But I'm working to get there. I am learning to enjoy myself again, and to heal both physically and emotionally. It's hard to let go of those emotional scars. Hearing my father's voice, I can still hear his words echo in my head. But I didn't have to marry an undesirable. I married a really great guy who supports me, loves me, and understands what I'm doing is important. I have reconciled that I will never be a skinny girl. Instead, I have learned that I have curves, quite nice curves that can be dressed well and make me look damn hot. Sometimes I'm insecure, but I fake it and put on this "I'm hot" attitude, and it works. I can do things I never thought I'd be able to do before. For example, I own not one, but TWO, pencil skirts. When your hips and tush are as full as mine, they say don't wear a pencil skirt, but I do!
How does this all relate to my fight against sexual violence? I sometimes wonder, and I'm not blaming myselft, if HE didn't pick up on my insecurities and use them to get me where HE wanted me. I think a lot of society's monsters pick on the weak (as in the insecure, the poor self-esteem, those who will not fight back). I'm making a statement that we need to teach our children, both girls and boys, that they are beautiful and valuable, and they don't have to let anyone hurt them. There will probably be sexual violence for a long time, but if we teach our children that they don't deserve to be treated like that, it would make a difference. Maybe they could fight back; maybe they could avoid predators in the first place. Let me also tell you this: You are beautiful. I have struggled with learning this lesson, but I'm telling you now that YOU are beautiful!
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