They are just words

Written in response to the leaked video of Donald Trump's remarks about women. This reflects experiences that I and others that I know have gone through. Sexual assault is always an emotional topic for me. Please keep any commentary respectful. 

They are just words…

They said as he bragged about his latest conquest, describing in detail his sexual escapades with a drunken girl in a cave by the shore.

They are just words…

They said as he rated the women on the patio, all the while with his hand sliding up my thigh beneath the table.

They are just words. After all, he is married…

They said as he slipped me a message to meet him later in the woods.

They are just words. He’s a stand-up guy…

They said as he led me into the dark and slipped his hand down my pants.

They are just words. He would never act on them, unlike others…

They said as he thrust himself inside of me, tearing my insides and breaking my resolution.

They are just words…

They said as he forced my mouth over his phallus and pushed and pulled until I was to the point of vomiting.

They are just words…

Words I spoke, words saying, “No!” and “Please stop,” and “Not now,” and “Oh, God, why me?”

They are just words…

He said as he finished with, “God, I needed that. Now, go home.”

They are just words…

They said. Locker room talk, they said. He would never, they said.

They were just words…

Words that became actions. Words that he used and twisted and molded until he had me in his grasp.

They are just words…

That he whispered to me as he tore my pants off, my underwear, and my dignity.

They are just words…

That echo through my mind, reminding me of the nights he forced himself on me.

They are just words…

That haunt me because while I was a slut and a whore, he was *just* lonely and in need of release.

They are just words…

Because “When you are a [man], they let you do it,”

He said, bringing my mind back to the hell I tried to leave behind.

“You can do anything. Grab ’em by the pussy,”

He said, as I relived those moments when my tormentor shoved his hand between my legs and cupped my vagina, stuck his fingers inside of me in the middle of the theater.

They are just words…

Words like, “No,” and “Yes,” and “Not tonight.” Because words have consequences. Words mean consent. Words mean the difference between fond memories and recurring nightmares. Words can make it feel like life is worth living or like this life is hopeless.

Because they are not just words, and I hope to God that people will see that.

Tasting Memories

With a twist, the air escaped from the confines of my Dr. Pepper. That familiar, sweet scent wafted up, and for a moment I hesitated. It had been several months since I had last tasted the special 23-flavor blend. Grabbing the bottle, I pushed my thoughts aside and took a first, glorious sip. The bubbly sensation poured over my tongue, the sweet nectar filling my mouth. With the familiar taste came a flood of memories. 

My mind ventured back to that first year at McDonald’s- the late nights and early mornings endured by consuming copious amounts of Dr. Pepper. More than the nostalgia of french fries and soda, however, another memory pushed to the front of my mind: tough hands, the metallic scent of engine oil, wire-rimmed bifocals, and, of course, a Maverick mug that seemed to never run out of Dr. Pepper. My grandfather’s scruffy face and faded eagle tattoo flashed across my memory, and the medley he used to sing played so clearly in my mind that his voice almost seemed audible.

As the moment passed, I felt a pang in my heart. Another memory came forward intruding on my happy recollections. This one appeared dim and bleak- a funeral home in the middle of January. My grandpa, the man once filled with laughter, song, and buttermilk was now laying still and cold in the confines of a forever sleep. In the cemetery, three families awkwardly gathered. 

His first wife and their only surviving daughter were still reeling from the loss of the eldest daughter two months prior. 

His young third wife and her teenaged children sobbed. Theirs was the most noticeable loss. The man who changed their world now lay in a box, stiff. 

Then there was my family, the sandwich family. The jovial figure of my childhood had long since abandoned us. But it wasn’t entirely his fault. A chemical imbalance, that’s what they called it. He had fallen into a decade of madness, rescued only by his young lover and her adolescent children. Meanwhile, his disappearing act left his adoring grandchildren and devoted children. My grandmother, his second wife, was forced to live with mere memories of her sweetheart, her soul mate who had succumbed to his demons. 

Love, sorrow, bitterness, anger, and regret all stood around the burial plot, saying one final goodbye to this marvelous and tortured man.

By this point, the pang in my chest had developed into salt-water reserves, dammed up in my tear ducts. I set the Dr. Pepper down and rejoined the present company. I quietly tightened the lid back onto the bottle, picked up a pen, and proceeded to write about a beloved grandfather, a memory, and a bottle of Dr. Pepper.

The D Word

Over the last couple months, that familiar shadow monster has crept back into my life. It has shown no remorse, poisoning the happy moments and acting like a Dementor, leaving death and destruction in its wake. But even in the depth of this hell, I dare not utter its name. Speaking it gives it validity. It is as if allowing this thing, this monster to be real will prove that I am weak. I've been defeated. And so, I suffer in my silent way. The monster chains me to my house, fills my hands with lead so I cannot write, puts up a wall around my heart so that I cannot feel anything other than the sorrow and emptiness it feeds through the black IV that is permanently attached to my soul.

But the heaviness has become more than I can bear. The break down finally came. I welcomed it with open arms. Only once I've surrendered my entirety to this demon am I able to speak. Only then can help come. Because even though I still can't say it - the D word - the pain speaks for itself. It cannot hide because my voiceless cries are still heard. Silence speaks if someone stops to listen.

I am lucky that way. The listener knows my demons. But what about those without listeners? How can they break free? They don't. They suffer worse fates. Broken and overcome by the darkness, the only relief comes in returning to the Ultimate Listener. Seeking a forever peace, they choose the only path that the monster shows them. Sleep eternal.

In a forest of shadows, death seems to be the sunny glade in the middle. Stop! I shout to myself from the outside. It's a mirage! I am standing in a field of sunflowers, the sun beating down on my face, birds singing around me, but I am under a spell. I can only see the dark forest created by the monster. 

A knight rides in, cutting through the black mist with his sword of light. For a moment I can see the field, the sunflowers. I look up to the knight, fall to his feet, allowing the tears to flow freely. His face is hidden. He is not here to save me, but simply to give me a momentary reprieve from my nightmare. The darkness will return, but the memory of my knight keeps me from chasing the doomed glade.

Eventually I will succumb, but until that day I will fight the shadow monster. As I stumble across others in the dark forest, I will use my sword of light to stand with them and offer them relief from their demons. But I know I will be dragged back to my hell, where I will wait. Wait for a knight. Wait for the sun to defeat the black mist. I'll cling to the memory of days before the night took over. I may have lost the war, but I will continue to win as many battles as I can.

Fighting Depression and Anxiety,

Hoping for a Sunny Day.

Alex

When I Was Drunk

Forgive me for what I said when I was drunk
Bodies close
Boundaries cast aside
True love's drunken confession

Forgive me for what I did when I was drunk
Prudence forgotten
Companionship wanted
Opportunity found on a stranger's lips

Forgive me for what I was when I was drunk
Thoughtless whore
Angry words biting
Tangled thoughts my mind destroyed

Forgive me for who I became when I was drunk
And I'll forgive you
For putting the bottle in my hand

A Casual Encounter with My Rapist

Since leaving Texas, I’ve seen him exactly three times.

Once was while I was visiting home on leave. My dad, brothers, and I were Christmas shopping in the mall and I was wearing my Oscar the Grouch military jacket. If you are in the military, you probably know to what I am referring. We made eye contact, but he seemed not to recognize me. Luckily, we were just wrapping up our excursion and left immediately thereafter. I didn’t say a word to my family, as I had yet to tell anyone about my experience in Texas.

Eight months later, I was out of the military and back home. As it turns out, keeping traumatic experiences bottled up leads to mental breakdowns. Either way, I found myself back in good ‘ole L-town and working at McDonald’s once again. It was nearing the end of my shift and I was handing orders out the drive-thru window. The next order would need to be pulled forward to wait for their food, so I was preparing to instruct them to do so. As the black sedan approached my window, one glimpse was all it took to drain the strength from my entire being. Once again, though I saw him, he didn’t recognize me. I couldn’t get away from the window fast enough and my body shook like the 1989 San Francisco earthquake. Tears streamed uncontrollably down my face and, not wanting to forsake my duties, I tried my best to assemble sandwiches since I had ditched the window. Thankfully, a quick explanation to a trusted coworker allowed me to go home a few minutes prematurely. But I’ll never forget the fear and utter destruction of my fortitude that occurred in simply seeing his face in my drive-thru line. Less than a week later, I submitted my resignation.

It’s been over a year since that day. I could easily call that one of the darkest times of my life. Shortly after the drive-thru scare, I had the chance to meet with military investigators and relive every terrible detail of the sexual assault. Compounded with the run-in at McDonald’s, my world was shattered and I no longer saw a point in living. It was my dad who found me in the garage with the door closed and my car running. I’d like to take this moment to thank him for installing a ventilation system in our garage. Despite the rocky nature of our relationship, it is my dad who kept me alive. Literally. Thankfully, I was able to get into counseling and start a process of rebuilding. I enrolled in college, started talking to people, and even went on a date or two. Within a few months, I was beginning to feel normal again. Though I had relied heavily on alcohol as a tonic up to that point, I recognized that it was an unhealthy coping mechanism and made efforts to stop drinking. I recently celebrated two months of sobriety. At the urging of my dad, I tried to reenter the dating world. I met a genuinely nice guy and we dated for a couple months. Even though the relationship ended, he taught me that there are good guys out there that can be trusted, even if it doesn’t ultimately work out. That understanding and a renewed confidence in myself led me to the amazing man I’m with today. Ladies- if you haven’t found a good one yet, keep looking. They exist. All of this is to say that I’ve come so far from the scared girl I was last year. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of the men that assaulted me, but I no longer feel like a slave to the memory of those incidents.

When I walked into Wal-Mart the other night, my mind was absorbed in thoughts about my upcoming midterm essay. I wandered the aisles with my friend as we made our way back to the electronics section. Frankly, I have no idea how long I was walking directly towards him before I noticed. What I do know is that when our eyes connected, no recognition registered on his face. I took an abrupt left turn and waited for him to turn around and confront me. Nothing happened. I looked over my shoulder to see him disappearing around a corner. Somehow, even though we locked eyes for a good second, he didn’t see me. My body trembled slightly, but nothing like before. Unlike our previous, I was no longer under his power.

To be completely honest, I’m not a very religious person. I was raised LDS, but haven’t regularly attended or considered myself “active” in a few years. However, something my grandmother said to me concerning these encounters got me thinking. When I told her about looking directly at him and his utter lack of recognition, she expressed her gratitude that God had placed me in his blind spot. I had never thought about it that way. But is it not possible that angels shielded his eyes? Three encounters and not once did he recognize me. I’d like to believe that life is more than a collection of random events. Everything presents an opportunity for growth and learning if you so choose. But maybe every once in a while, the man in charge cuts you a break. Tender mercies, if you will. In the attitude of Thanksgiving, I must express my gratitude for the cloak of invisibility that I wore this week. Moreover, I am grateful for a grandmother who provides deeper perspective, a mother who loves me unconditionally, and a father who kept me from a premature departure. Though I will never be completely free from this particular burden, I believe that I will continue to heal and that it will become easier to bear with time.

*If you or someone you know is experiencing thoughts of suicide, please don't hesitate to call the 24/7 National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-TALK (8255). They are trained counselors and can get you info for mental health services in your area.

The Puppachino Debate

         Once upon a time, a barista offered me a cup of whipped cream for my dog. She called it the "puppachino" and my dog went crazy for it. After seeing the mess it made it my car, I thought I would never accept such an offer again. Of course, how many mothers say "never again" but end up with a new tradition instead? So about once a month, Lacey and I venture out to Starbucks and I get my human drink while she gets her whipped cream. I didn't think much of it until today. A new barista greeted me with a third of the usual amount and proceeded to tell me how bad whipped cream is for dogs. Naturally, I had to go home and do some research. As it turns out, most dogs are lactose intolerant. And by most, I mean pretty much all. While I've never seen any adverse effects following our Bucks adventures, that doesn't mean there haven't been any. Come to think of it, that little puppy gets worse gas than my father. That's saying a lot. Anyways... I continued researching until I came to the conclusion that nobody knows for sure what's best. Some vets were saying to shun the devil thing, while others said to proceed, but in moderation. Then there are the people whose dogs have been eating human food since day one that see nothing wrong with a little 1oz. cup of whipped cream every here and again.

      So I guess the thing that I'm trying to do here is to find out what popular opinion is on the subject. For me, I'll continue giving my dog her little treat, but sparingly (as I already do).

Post and comment your thoughts on the Puppachino!

<3 Lacey and Alex

**The first three images courtesy of Google Images

**Last image is Lacey! Courtesy of me

10 Tips for Surviving Finals Week

Having just finished my first semester back to college after an exploratory hiatus, I thought it would be appropriate to start this blog off with an article on the most prevalent thing in my life at this point in time. 
While good study habits and class attendance are major contributors to acing your finals, there are a number of factors that can either boost or bomb your grades. 

1. Music- Studies have shown that listening to music while studying can improve retention of information. While classical is the most recommended study music, anything without lyrics will do. If you're a Spotify user then you might be interested in these playlists: Brain Food, Superior Study Playlist, or ESM | Electronic Study Music. If you don't use Spotify, then I highly suggest you start.

2. Sleep- As college students, we tend to think that 3 or 4 hours will be enough so long as we have an energy drink or two in the morning. Not so. Getting the proper 8 to 10 hours of sleep will improve energy and focus.

3. Eat Right- If you only eat balanced meals for one week all semester, let it be finals week. Different fruits and veggies have different benefits, but overall they boost your mood and general well-being. Need to focus? Eat an orange. Tired? Try a banana.

4. Work Out- At risk of sounding like a health nut, I'd like to believe that working out is a vital element of surviving finals week. There's a reason people go for a run to "clear the mind." Exercise releases endorphins that help put you in a positive frame of mind and being positive during finals can give you a major leg up.

5. Have a Study Plan- Sometimes finals are all spread out and other times you have three or four in one day. Having a method to the madness is key. Lay aside a specific time to study for each test. 

6. Take Breaks- Have you ever studied so long that your brain literally felt like exploding? Try avoiding that feeling by taking little breaks. Your brain is more likely to retain information if you let it rest at least once an hour for about 15 minutes. Take a moment to go for a walk, do some jumping jacks, eat a snack. It's like pushing a refresh button in your brain. 

7. Study Methods- Everyone learns differently and each subject may require a slightly unique approach for effective studying. Figure out what works best for you. Do you like flashcards? Study guides? Highlighting? Knowing your study style will help you better remember the information you need to tackle those finals. 

8. Avoid Partying- It seems pretty obvious, but you'd be surprised how many people show up hungover to take their finals. Don't be that guy. Staying out late, drinking, and feeling like death warmed over isn't likely to help your GPA and skipping Karaoke Tuesday for one week won't mean the end of your social reign. 

9. Study Space- Picking your study space is one of the most important aspects of finals preparation. Things to avoid: high foot traffic, too warm, too cold, lots of distractions, uncomfortable chairs, chaos. Most of all, figure out what works best for you and stick to it. Be consistent.

10. Arrive Early- On the day of your exam remember to arrive a little early. There's nothing like adding to your stress by showing up late. If you have the luxury of taking the exam at your leisure, try to pick a time when the testing center will be less crowded. The more relaxed you are mentally, the easier it will be to focus. 

So there you have it. A short guide to finals week survival. Best of luck and stay positive!