Posted on April 16, 2012, in Bisexuality, LGBTQ, Social Media. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.
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The me of 2009 vs the me of 2018. I would never have thought my life could bring me to this point. I feel healthier than I did when took that first photo. Healthier mentally and physically. I respect everything that the me of the past went through. But I was struggling so much then...now I am manifesting, moving forward with my life and my dreams. I’m not free from the anxiety and struggle, but they don’t control me the way they once did. Thank you, past Janet, for all you went through, all you endured to give me the path I can on now. I love you/me 💖Tonight it’s @pikespeakbeer and their Devils Head Red Ale. I drink out of a small glass so I don’t know how many I’ve had. Warrior just keeps refilling it randomly, which is wonderful because I love this. #coloradogirl #coloradobrewThese socks are so warm and comfy but had the added benefit of some serious hotness too. 😏#ColoradoGold #coloradogirl #peaktopeakhighway[CW: rape, sexual assault, survivor guilt] After #MeToo, after #whyididntreport, I decided to look up my rapist, a former airborne army paratrooper. Not the wisest way for me to start my Monday, especially. But when I saw that one of his friends, one of the only people from that night who said “I believe you” is still friends with him on Facebook, I decided to post this. There were at least 5 witnesses to what happened to me. When I left the room bleeding, crying and ready to quit college at Loyola, any of them could have stepped forward to report a crime - it didn’t have to be me. In fact, walking through that crowd of men casually listening to my screams and cries sent a distinct message - them vs. me. At least one of them wouldn’t let me out of the door. Another masturbated during it. Any of them could have reported, but didn’t. Any of them could have helped, but didn’t. Any of them could have asked me if I was okay, but didn’t. I went to my room where I cried on the phone with the only good man I knew at the time (Nano). All I could do was cry. I was speechless for hours, depressed for weeks, skipped my classes more frequently. I wasn’t in a proper state of mind to live, much less report in a strange city with no real friends to support me. It would take 2 years before I could call it rape. Everyone talks about why women don’t come forward - but here we had 5 individuals who were all witness to my rape. Any of them could have come forward, any of them could have called the RA or the cops. Not one of them took action - they cared more for protecting their conspiracy than they did about doing what was right. I didn’t report because the trauma was too great and I didn’t want to hurt my parents. They didn’t report because...?Every time I get a little nervous that the world might judge me as harshly as it once did, that the world might cave in because of who I am, I remember that in the end the only person I need to please is myself. I owe no one an apology for being true to myself. #selflove #grownup #queen #over40 #fearlesswomen #wildwomenA Loose Woman Speaks
You know me. You always find me at the crossroads. Smoldering sweetness. Transient memory. Dark benevolence.
I have burned with you in the fires; I have resurrected you from the despair. I've held your hand in the depths of your darkness. I've given you light to lift you. I've been here each time you've prayed out loud or cried silently.
Sweet and bold. Powerful and quiet. I will never leave you, my Love.
Blissful and melancholy. Radiant and cursed. Sensual and familiar. Rough and blessed. Vibrant and smooth. I embrace your duality and all the space in between.
Strike at the soul and be consumed within these flames.
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