How It Happens

When I was around two, I was enamored with a girl that lived down the street. She was five and went to kindergarten. She had two older brothers that were young teenagers.
One day, I went to her house to wait for her to come home from school, as I sometimes did.
Her parents weren't home, but one of her brothers was.
I went in and we started watching tv. It is like a snapshot in my mind. It was the show, That Girl with Marlo Thomas. I was disappointed because I didn't like the show, but I was always impressed with her umbrella twirling at the beginning.
The next thing I knew, his pants were off. He was standing in front of me naked, asking if I had ever "seen one of these before". What happened next is blurry. I have a snap shot of me running through a hall, and then one of me sliding down some stairs. I remember him chasing me, and then I remember being back at home.
I told my mom.
I don't know what happened, but I don't think anything did.
This is where it begins.

Next, when I was somewhere between eight and ten, my parents had a party. It was kind of a neighborhood affair. An older man that lived down the road was there. He was always a curiosity, as he lived alone and his house was filled with Playboy magazines and posters of naked women all over his house. I do not know why my parents thought it was okay for my brother and I to ever go to his house. He was also a drunk, although I didn't realize this at the time.
At the end of the party, when he was leaving, he gave me a hug that was too close and then he kissed me and put his tongue in my mouth.
I told my parents.
I don't know what happened, but I don't think anything did.

When I was in high school, a friend's boyfriend, whom I was also friends with, took me out onto a backroad. We were drinking. My friend was out of town. The plan was that we were going to drink a little, then go to a club to go dancing. I was drinking a wine cooler. He took his pants off.
He told me to try taking my clothes off. That it was fun to drive naked. I said no.
He parked the car and told me to touch him. I started to cry and said no. He put my hand on him and then tried to kiss me. I asked him to stop. He then started to touch me. I told him to please just take me home and I wouldn't tell his girlfriend, my friend.
He agreed. The next morning, my friend called me and was mad at me. He told her, except he told her his own version, which included me being willing.
My friend told another mutual friend, who said "I'm not surprised".
I guess it was my fault.

When I lived in Hollywood, I was walking down the street near my apartment. I was on the side of the street that seemed to be a little less savory. There was a group of three guys hanging out. My gut told me to cross the street and avoid them. My head told me to not be afraid. I listened to my head.
When I reached the guys, they started saying things to me and I ignored them. I tried to keep walking. One of them asked if I thought I was too good for them. I said no, but tried to walk by them. He then grabbed my arm. The other two guys scattered as this guy began pulling me into the alley. I knew that I could not over power him. I knew that screaming wouldn't be heard. So, I used my best weapon, my mind. I asked him to please not do this thing. I asked him if he would want someone to do this to his mother, his sister, his grandmother. I looked him in the eye. He dropped my arm and I backed away. Slowly at first, then I walked, then I ran home.
I did not tell anyone. I did not call the police.
What would they do? Tell me I should have crossed the street when I saw them?

Another time when I lived in Hollywood, a man entered my apartment and came into my bedroom while I was just getting out of the shower. I don't remember what happened next. I then went to work and told my boss this was why I was late. She did not send me home although I was in shock and shaking. I did not call the police.

Just recently, I saw a Facebook post from a woman that I know that was defending Donald Trump and his rapist type actions. She queried why the women didn't say anything until now if these allegations were true. She then went on to say that if any woman was assaulted, she should have the brains to report it.
Read the things I wrote. These are the reasons why women don't say anything.

Surrender

In Glennon Doyle Melton's book, Love Warrior, she says

"The journey is learning that pain, like love, is simply something to surrender to. It's a holy space we can enter with people only if we promise not to tidy up. So I will sit with my pain by letting my own heart break. I will love others in pain by volunteering to let my heart break with them. I'll be helpless and broken and still - surrendered to my powerlessness."

Read it again. More slowly. Savor every sentence.

My friend, Rhiannon, pointed this quote out to me. My friend, Rhiannon that I clicked with the moment I met her. My friend Rhiannon who gets me, who sees me.
And because I believe in signs that show you the way on your path, I knew it was telling me something. So I read it again and listened to my heart tell me what this sign was saying. And then I knew. The words jumped out at the page (okay, the screen) to me "surrendered to my powerlessness". And then further back up, "It's a holy space we can enter with people only if we promise not to tidy up."

You see, I had recently began being depressed and sad about aging. But we are powerless against aging, aren't we? Unless I begin worshiping at the idol of vanity, I am going to begin to sag, wrinkle, shift and fade. We all do. But there is more power in surrendering to my powerlessness than fight a losing battle and become completely wounded in the midst of it. All before finally dying. And who the hell wants to walk toward death all miserable, beat up and defeated? Certainly not me.
I do not want to find myself at the age of 70, or 80 or 90 still hating myself because I am not perfectly fresh and young. No. No. No.

So, I am going to create the holy space, as Glennon calls it, of my pain and allow you in. It will be messy. I am not cleaning it up first. You will see it, because if I don't allow you to see it, I am not being real with myself or with you. I would be helping to perpetuate that war out there that is against women.

So, please come into my space.

Surrender with me.