Monday, October 24, 2016

VICTIM NO LONGER

I’ve been uneasy lately.  Sometimes it takes me time to figure these things out within myself as to why.  Hearing the hate rhetoric of this political campaign I know is part of it, so I have taken to tuning it out and making myself busy doing more enlightened activities.  

But then the other day I happen to be listening to the radio when Trump was speaking.  He announced that when the election is over, he plans on suing all the women who have stood and said he sexually assaulted them and the crowd cheered.  Like a thousand shards of glass, I felt pain from every one of those who cheered him on.  

My life has not been without its bullies.  For 11 years I was a victim of childhood sexual abuse and rape.  I was the keeper of the secret because I was told if I told anyone what was happening, I would be the one to get into trouble.  What does a 5-year-old know when an adult says that to them?

It took me until I was 17 to find the courage to speak the truth out loud.  In the end, I found power in letting the truth out, but not before my family abandoned me with accusations of my being a slut, whore and out just to get the uncle’s money.  But for the fact that I met my husband who showed me a different way of life I wonder where I would be today?

In my work life, I ran into two more bullies.  A job I had in a local printing shop had a supervisor who made inappropriate comments to all the women in the plant when they went about doing their business.  Then one day when I was working in the office in the early evening, that same supervisor came in and as usual standing over me, making his crude comments suddenly slipped his hand inside my shirt top.   I did not hesitate to take the incident to my boss.  An investigation took place supporting my story, the supervisor retired early with a “secret” retirement party, and then began a year long ugly shop talk by the “good ole boys club” of the plant.  In fear when I left work at night in the dark, I would find graffiti on my car or a flat tire.  Stage whisper conversations would occur as I walked out into the plant, talking about me as if I could not hear.  Running to the HR people was not feasible…how could I complain about every time I was made to feel uncomfortable.  So I endured.  A year later I left that job for another.

In my last job, I worked one year for an interim assistant principal covering for my boss who moved over to the Principal’s seat while that person was on sabbatical.  For one year, he bullied and badgered and went out of his way to let me know how he felt about me by either what he did or didn’t do.  At the end of the year when I was called into the office to discuss the Mum that was left on my desk every Monday with an upbeat note of encouragement, i.e., “The sun will come up tomorrow!  Love Annie”.  An accusation was brought against me as if I were the one who instigated the gift of the motivating Mum every Monday.  When I fought back, I was told just to buck up, that the end of the year was coming and this would be behind me.

I started with nightmare dreams like I had in the early years before my voice had been heard about the abuse I was experiencing.  I was initially puzzled as to why my abuse issues were rising.  Then, one day, when the year was behind me, it came to me.  That sense of abandonment by my boss, who instead of standing up for me, asked me just to endure the moment and let it pass.  “Be a good soldier”, he said.

The more powerful the bully, the harder it is for a victim to step up.  No one steps up without consequences.  Loss of family.  Loss of friends.  A feeling of being alone and knowing the truth and nowhere to turn.   It can be a lonely walk.

Being a victim is not easy.  Being let down by those around you is worse.  It took me a long time to come to terms with that part of it.  As I watched the ladies who have been harmed by Bill Cosby and now Donald Trump, I find myself saying, “You go girl!  Stand up to the bully!”  

For that is what men like this are.  They believe they have the right and their money allows them to push back hard.  I have learned over my course of living, that finding the courage to speak the truth even when others do not want to hear it, frees me.  I can breathe again.  I can walk with my head high, even when my heart breaks at the crush of words that may come.  I know the truth, just as the women who find themselves standing up to these men do.  There is a journalist, Michele Goldberg of Slate Magazine, who offered women a chance to share their personal story of bullies in the workplace.  She was unprepared for the avalanche of response.  It is not a club that anyone has asked to join.  It is not an easy club to belong.  But speaking the truth not only shines for others looking to do so but frees ourselves up to live the life we are entitled to live.  I am proud to be a survivor.  To not have let the bullies ruin my life.  I am one of the lucky ones.

To all of you who cheer Donald Trump on when he says he plans on suing these woman when this election is over, I pray your daughter never has to experience this pain.  And to those who have a story to tell, email Michele Goldberg, she wants to hear your story.  michelle.goldberg@slate.com

And to those who need light…I share the following:

“Don't judge yourself by what others did to you.” 
― C. Kennedy, Ómorphi

“You can recognize survivors of abuse by their courage. When silence is so very inviting, they step forward and share their truth so others know they aren't alone.” 
― Jeanne McElvaney, Healing Insights: Effects of Abuse for Adults Abused as Children

“Survivors of abuse show us the strength of their personal spirit every time they smile.” 

― Jeanne McElvaney, Healing Insights: Effects of Abuse for Adults Abused as Children

Tuesday, October 4, 2016

TRAVELING DOWN THE ROAD

Coyote Roadhouse
Baileys Harbor, Wisconsin

I want Thanksgiving to be over!  I cannot escape the yo-yo ride of emotion that has been with me since the summer started.  As I have said earlier, this would have been our 50th anniversary year, and I celebrate without my best friend by my side.  This past week I drove a friend out to Wisconsin to see her only son and daughter-in-law in their new home.  A journey for my friend turned out to be a sentimental journey for me.  It was Oct 7, 1966, that I moved from Ingleside, Illinois to Harleysville, Pennsylvania.  

Taking Audrey to her son in Wisconsin provided me an opportunity to drive through the place of my birth and where Pat and I first met and fell in love.  I was taken back by the emotion that rose up as I drove by Belvidere Road…Gurnee, Rollins Road…places, and names that are permanently etched in my bank of memories.  

The spot where Lake Michigan meets Green Bay.
The trip had one of those serendipity moments too.  Audrey’s son and daughter-in-law manage the Coyote Roadhouse in Baileys Harbor, Wisconsin.  The Roadhouse is one of those bar/eateries that locals love and where everyone knows your name.  As we walked in, although strangers,  we were greeted like lost old friends…a Midwestern attitude that I immediately recognized.  Great conversation, friendly faces, and some really good food made for an enjoyable time.  Later, talking to Carrie, Audrey’s daughter-in-law, she asked where in Illinois I lived. 

After telling her that I graduated from Grant Community High School in 1965, she indicated that her waitress, Diane Pinkham’s family is from there.  It turns out I graduated with Betty, her sister-in-law.  Small world.  Smaller when you think of how everything lined up to make this moment happen.

Door County Wisconsin is a beautiful place.  If you look at a map and check out the area between the bay of Green Bay and Lake Michigan, you will see a little strip of land tucked up between these two bodies of water.  I could easily see that life was hard for those who lived there all year round.  Working every hour you could while it was tourist season carried you through the winter months when everyone went home.  

What struck me, was how connected those who lived there were with each other.  Especially the art community.  Because I dabble in oil painting, Scott took us to some of the many galleries in the area.  What I observed was how supportive they were of each other.  “Oh, you like oil paintings?  Then you should check out the gallery at such and such.”  I would get a history of the artists represented.  Did I like photography, then it was a must I see so and so.  Many of the galleries we visited were artist owned.  The joy was in the conversation and energy felt during our conversations!  


It was a great trip with my friend Audrey.  I was glad to be able to take her out to see her son and his new home.  It was also a good trip for me.  I am reminded that life is still to be lived and there is much to explore.  And I look forward to the adventure of meeting new people and seeing new places…especially if they are all as friendly as the gang at the Coyote Roadhouse.  You should stop in if you get up that way.  They would be glad to see ya!

TRAVELING DOWN THE ROAD

Coyote Roadhouse
Baileys Harbor, Wisconsin

I want Thanksgiving to be over!  I cannot escape the yo-yo ride of emotion that has been with me since the summer started.  As I have said earlier this would have been the 50th anniversary year, and I celebrate without my best friend by my side.  This past week I drove a friend out to Wisconsin to see her only son and daughter-in-law in their new home.  A journey for my friend turned out to be a sentimental journey for me….timing.   For it was Oct 7, 1966, that I moved from Ingleside, Illinois to Harleysville, Pennsylvania.  

Taking Audrey to her son in Wisconsin provided me an opportunity to drive through the place of my birth and where Pat, and I first met and fell in love.  I was taken back by the emotion that rose up as I drove through Belvidere Road…Gurnee, Rollins Road…places, and names that are permanently etched in my bank of memories.  

The spot where Lake Michigan meets Green Bay.
The trip had one of those serendipity moments too.  Audrey’s son and daughter-in-law manage the Coyote Roadhouse in Baileys Harbor, Wisconsin.  The Roadhouse is one of those bar/eateries that locals love and where everyone knows your name.  As we walked in, although strangers,  we were greeted like lost old friends…a Midwestern attitude that I immediately recognized.  Great conversation, friendly faces, and some really good food made for an enjoyable time.  Later, talking to Carrie, Audrey’s daughter-in-law, she asked where in Illinois I lived. 

After telling her that I graduated from Grant Community High School in 1965, she indicated that her waitress Diane Pinkham’s family is from there.  It turns out I graduated with Betty, her sister-in-law.  Small world.  Smaller when you think of how everything lined up to make this moment happen.

Door County Wisconsin is a beautiful place.  If you look at a map and check out the area between the bay of Green Bay and Lake Michigan, you will see a little strip of land tucked up between these two bodies of water.  One could pick up that life was hard for those who lived there all year around.  Working every hour you could while it was tourist season carried you through the winter months when everyone went home.  

What I was struck with was how connected those who lived there all year round where.  Especially the art community.  Because I dabble in oil painting, Scott took us around to some of the many galleries in the area.  What I observed was how supportive they were of each other.  “Oh, you like oil paintings?  Then you should check out the gallery at such and such.”  I would get a history of the artists represented.  Did I like photography, then it was a must I see so and so.  In many of the galleries, we stopped they were artist owned and could found on premise for some wonderful conversation.  


It was a great trip with my friend Audrey.  I was glad to be able to take her out to see her son and his new home.  It was also a good trip for me.  I am reminded that life is still to be lived and there is much to explore.  And I look forward to the adventure of meeting new people and seeing new places…especially if they are all as friendly as the gang at the Coyote Roadhouse.  You should stop in if you get up that way.  They would be glad to see ya!