Thursday, December 18, 2014

Go Suck An Egg OCD....

I was so busy yesterday, finding time to write was like putting socks on a rooster. I have a bunch of things going on right now and only about 1/4 of them are positive things. Most of them are depressing, and maddening, and just down right unpleasant. But me being me, I am trying to stay positive.

I would list the bad things going on but I don't want to depress myself any further. A few good things are that my grandma is finally back home after eighteen days in the hospital. She is doing well. My youngest had a school Christmas performance. It was really adorable as all little kid school performances are. We haven't frozen to death this winter....yet. Christmas is just around the corner. We still have a roof over our heads....

It is the small things like this that keep me going. Because the bad stuff just seems to pile up and add on and procreate until it starts to feel like they are physically laying on your chest smothering you last breath out of your lungs.

So what did I do? Well, first I had a good ole cry. A big one. Like one of those migraine inducing from the snot moving around in your sinuses because you have cried so long and so hard kind of cry. Then after that I looked at myself in the mirror, in which I realized no one should ever have to look at themselves after that kind of cry....scary. Then I prayed and gave it all to God, because I am at a complete and total loss as to what I am supposed to do to fix anything or change any type of outcome. Then I made myself get up, shower, dress, and slather on my "war paint" and went to my kid's play.

I refused to dive into the rabbit hole of OCD today. Even though there is this really odd errant smell of old beans in my kitchen (we haven't had any beans). I did not allow myself to search it out and clean the whole kitchen with an old toothbrush and bleach. I refused to let my anxiety act up when the person behind me at the play was coughing and sneezing. I wouldn't go so far as to say I would lick their shoes or sit beside them  or anything, but I didn't change seats or cover my mouth and nose with the collar of my shirt like I wanted to. I did not vacuum away my anxiety or hand wash till my hands bled. I guess that is a good start.

My OCD seems under control outwardly and is only noticeable when I am not stressed but let's be real, who is never stressed? I am completely stressed. I am overloaded with it, hung up by it, strangled from it, and drowning in it. So, yea my OCD is going to flare up. It is going to try and rise from the ashes as the proverbial mental illness phoenix and take it's ugly smelly wrath out on me and I am not having any of it. I am unafraid. I am not about to give this damn bird another hour of my life, another day, another week, another month, another year. It will try and I may fail but it is not going to do this to me without a damn good fight on it's hands. I just hope it has it's boxing gloves on because I mean business.

I am just going to do whatever I have to do and keep plugging along taking back my life from OCD bit by bit. Centimeter by centimeter until it becomes inch by inch. Inches until it becomes feet. Feet until becomes miles. I will never be OCD free but I don't have to accept being OCD enslaved. This is me breaking my chains. This is me cutting the ties that bind. This is me retaking back my life. Go suck an egg, OCD. I have enough issues going on without you bothering me relentlessly. I got this. I got this.





Friday, December 12, 2014

Neurotic.....

Well, my beautiful Christmas tree is dead. Like a dried out pokey husk of what it used to be. I finally got to where it made me happy OCD wise, looking at such a beautiful lighted menagerie only to have die on me. The day may have been hard or tiring and I would walk into the dining room and gaze upon it's glittery shining appearance and feel peace and calm. Now I just feel empty. Sure, it is still glittery and shiny but now it is less green and more crusty. Even the wonderful evergreen scent has faded away. It's depressing me.

I am fighting the urge to throw a full grown fit like a three year old complete with alligator tears and throwing myself to the floor......sigh. It just kind of summons up the last few weeks. Blerg.

I was so depressed I forgot what day it was yesterday and didn't write. Now, I feel kinda guilty about that too. Sorry guys.

Some good things this week are my Grandma is supposed to get out of the hospital next Tuesday, finally. She has given us a few scares with her health there, so I can't wait for her to go back home. And, tomorrow is my youngest's birthday so I made homemade chocolate chip cookies for his school for today. I was so stoked that I didn't burn them on the bottom (as I have now discovered the amazing properties of parchment paper). I spent an extra twenty minutes making sure they were all similar sizes. You can't have wonky sized cookies and give them to kids. Then one kid would feel bad and I can't have that. We even gave the bus driver one. I am just secretly praying none of my hair got in the batter. I had it severely plastered back before I cooked just to be sure. I think I need a hair net though. Like for anytime I cook....or go in the kitchen...or maybe just to wear constantly. I think I am shedding or going bald or molting.

The flu is going around and my wonderfully informative news has declared that the flu vaccine doesn't really work for this particular strain. So, there is that terrific bit of news. You're welcome. And supposedly there is also a 14 day stomach virus going around the school. The school bus driver is now wearing a face mask. She said the kids on the bus have been dropping like flies. I am not worried though.....okay that is a complete lie. I am a little concerned. Oh, who am I fooling, I am petrified.

How weird is it when it is 25 degrees outside and you think to yourself, "Huh, It's not that cold out here"?
As someone born and raised in Texas, I am pretty sure this shouldn't be a phrase I should ever be using. Apparently, living up north for the last thirteen years has changed me. I still refuse to completely acclimate to "yankee" (as my southern relatives would call it) traditions.  Like eating geotta- yucky- or putting spaghetti noodles in my chili.....what in the hell?  I still don't get some of the sayings and traditions. Like, "forgot crapped his pants" if you say you forgot something...I mean what does that even mean? But I guess that is par for the course. I mean, many of these people have never seen cotton fields, wheat fields, and bean fields. They find my accent to be strange and "funny sounding". Sometimes they do not understand my sayings and euphemisms. I don't know anyone from here that has seen a "Mexican jumping bean". Most people that I have met, don't like black eyed peas, or pea salad, or all of the bean laden meals I grew up with. Not a huge number of people have a strong hankering for fried catfish which kinda makes me sad. Even the Mexican food seems kind of off to me here. Of course, it is Mexican food in Ohio, so I guess that makes sense. Everything is pork here which after thirteen years, I still shudder at the thought of pork ribs. Can I not get some decent beef ribs for the love of God!!!???!!! The snow is pretty but I have learned to hate it. It's so cold and it gets ugly and dirty looking after the cars and snow plows run over it. It's slippery and I live in a constant state of fear that I am going to fall. I fell on a bunch of acorns on the side walk on a perfectly clear Fall day, once. True story. So you can see how thrilled I would be to walk on slippery surfaces that appear to be clear but are actually black ice. I think I should by soccer cleats to get to the bus stop safely. That being said, I like it okay here.

I used to dream of becoming a piano bar singer. Is that weird? I wanted to dress up in beautiful dresses and sing Billie Holiday songs in a club. I visualized soft lighting and grand accompaniment. Smoke filled rooms and the gentle clinking of glasses while I belted out my rendition of Gloomy Sunday......Now, I dream of owning a Christmas tree farm where you grow trees and let the families pick them out and cut them down to take home and make them even more beautiful. I would always have that gorgeous smell of evergreen. I would make a Christmas shop in my barn and sell handmade ornaments and decorate trees in different decorations to show how they would look. We could even have a Santa come and take pictures with the kids. It would be wonderful to have that Christmas feeling for a longer period of time and be able to help share it with others. Lights and hot apple cider and red and green mittens and garland made of popcorn...  And in the Fall we could grow pumpkins and make corn mazes and have hay rides. And I would drive out to the mailbox on a unpaved driveway in my 1950's old beat up Ford pick up truck that is  two toned powder blue and white with scratches on it. I would only go to the mailbox though because I don't see well enough to actually drive. I know this is a lot of work and frankly, I know nothing about farming and this is all a pipe dream but it is my pipe dream dammit. So I can pretend, right? Since it is a pipe dream I could be both a Christmas tree farmer and a piano bar singer. I could sing like Billie in a fancy dress that just happens to smell like one of those little green Christmas tree car air freshners but "fresher". That could work, right?

Geeze, what did I write? This post is so all over the place. I guess it is just one of those days where I don't have anything really important to say so I say whatever pops into my head....lol. Makes me sound kind of neurotic....

Anyway enough of this babbling, I will post again on Tuesday. Hope you all have an amazing weekend.

Neurotic Nelly

Tuesday, December 9, 2014

You Just Can't See It Yet......

I keep seeing this floating around on the internet and it bothers me...


Gag...I am not a feminist, at least I don't think I am. I kinda feel like if you are a feminist, you know you are such. Right? I don't think I am a feminist but I am a realist. I don't blame men for everything. I don't feel like they are the cause of all evil or that everything wrong with our society is entirely their fault. No it is all of our faults. Both men and women.

This sign bothers me for many reasons. What does this even mean? Is it implying that you are fragile trinket that has fallen from a shelf? That you are a broken vase that needs to be glued back together with love and gorilla glue? 

I get irritated by this saying and it's notions. Like the fact that it implies that to be whole you have to someone else fix you. Or the fact that it seems to imply that one should just wait around while their broken pieces lay all over the place until your knight in shining armor comes to your rescue. Or even, that you need to be saved in the first place.....

I don't agree with this odd notion that you have to be rescued from yourself by someone else. That is simply not true. There are tons of people in this word that seem to think this way. That they just need someone else to save them or to make them feel "complete". I see this a lot more in younger women and girls and it perplexes me. They are constantly waiting around for Sr Galahad to come traipsing out of the wood riding upon a strong white steed, whilst saving you from your own self esteem issues, emotional baggage, and whatever else is tormenting you at the moment.

Here is something that these over romantic, immature, ridiculous memes don't tell you, you don't need to have someone save you. You have to do that yourself. You have to put in the work. You have to look at yourself and work on your issues first, before you even think about getting involved with someone else. It is not their place to fix your broken pieces, it is yours. Don't wait around for a knight in shining armor to come to the rescue because sometimes your knight in shining armor turns out to be just an idiot wrapped in tin foil. What do you do then? Who is going to hold you so tight your broken pieces fit now? Certainly not Sir Galahasn't. Take it from me. I dated him in high school, married and divorced his cousin Sir Galacan't, and I have went out with a bunch of Sir Gala-not-worth-the-time-I-spent-fixing-my-hair. It is not their fault that it didn't work out as much as it is my fault for thinking I needed them to complete me in the first place.  


What I have learned in my "old age" is that the things I deal with, my issues, my "broken pieces" don't need to be held together my someone else. Hell, they may not even need to be held in at all.  Sometimes it is perfectly okay to let them lay around on the floor and let me look at them so that I can decide on how to fix them. I can decide on if I need to glue them back in place or not. What I have learned is that, relationships are hard work and if you are too busy hating yourself, then you can't let anyone else love you. You don't have time to keep up the relationship because you are always expecting the other person to heal your wounds and make you whole. In realty, you should choose to be with that person not feel as if you can't live without them. You can. You can stand on your own. You can be whole without being in a relationship. You can conquer your fears, your issues, and your baggage all by yourself (and maybe with some therapy). 

If I could interject a better meme it would say something like this:

"Love yourself. Heal yourself. Know your worth as person. For one day you will hold yourself so tight that all of your broken pieces will fit back together. "


Because you don't need saving. You don't need the proverbial  mythical "someone" you just need you. 
Because you are strong all by yourself. You are brave all by yourself. You are capable all by yourself. You just can't see it yet.

Neurotic Nelly



Thursday, December 4, 2014

An Ember.......

An ember is a glowing, hot coal made of greatly heated wood, coal, or other carbon-based material that remain after, or sometimes precede a fire. Embers can glow very hot, sometimes as hot as the fire which created them. They radiate a substantial amount of heat long after the fire has been extinguished....


The holidays fast approach us all. And although many are thrilled and caught up in the excitement of red and green, present wrapping, Christmas tree decorating, or candle lighting. As many of our houses smell of cinnamon, hot chocolate, and evergreen. As an electric cheer seems to snap through the air touching everyone in some way creating an unidentifiable warmth that spreads from person to person, I know that not everyone loves this time of year. For many it is not the best time to celebrate. To some this is not a holiday of giving and peace but a holiday full of triggers and pain. Feelings of loss. Feelings of failure. An extreme overwhelming sense of loneliness.

For those that feel this way about the Christmas/Holiday season, this post if for you more than anyone else. I know the frost in the air freezes to the bone. I know that instead of joy you only see a gray expanse of nothingness. I know that all of the carols and wishes of good cheer fall silent in your mind. I know that you feel like no one on the face of this planet understands you, knows how you feel, or gets what you are going through. That nothing can reach your heart because there is so much pain. Too much pain to accept anything else.

To those people I want to say that I was you once. I have been there. Many of us have. You are not alone. People do see you. People do understand your pain. And it is simply not true that you are a failure or that your life goes unnoticed. You matter even if sometimes it doesn't seem like it.  You are important. The people, the world, the universe needs you. You are here for a reason. We do not understand how the world works or for what reason we are where we are but that doesn't mean there is not a reason. There is and you are here on purpose. You belong here. You belong. 

I don't expect a blog post to make you feel less alone although I sincerely hope it does. And I don't expect you to change your whole feelings about holidays just because I wrote a few words. What I do hope is that this little message of support I am sending out to the world, will touch you in some small way. That it can be a little spark of hope that could turn into a tiny little burning ember. An ember that could in time, become a raging fire of self acceptance. 

I hope that this post reminds you of how important you are even if you have forgotten in the mess of things. I hope that you can start to see yourself like I do. As a strong, intelligent, magnificent human being. You are not just a person lost in the hustle and bustle of the holiday season. You are the stars that light up the sky at night. You are the magic that flows through the leaves hanging on the branches of the world's strongest tree. You are what makes the world a unique and wondrous place. You are worthy. You are important. You are not alone. You matter.

I hope this post becomes an ember that reminds you are just you and you and you are magnificent. Thinking of all of you this Holiday Season. Take care my friends....

Neurotic Nelly



Tuesday, December 2, 2014

Just Stop It Already....RANT......RANT......

Thanksgiving was interesting. My Grandma was sick and had to go to the hospital the day before Thanksgiving. She was in the hospital up until today. She is now going to a rehabilitation to help her regain her strength.  God only knows how long it will be until she gets to go home. I am worried about her which triggers my OCD medical fears about myself. We spent three days at my mom's and I helped clean my grandma's apartment after which I took a shower and then spent twenty minutes trying to remove a comb I was attempting to brush my unruly mane with, from said unruly mane. It was firmly implanted in my hair like I was born with it there. (This is why I carry my own hair comb but I forgot it this time.) Then after we returned home I started to decorate out new Christmas tree we picked up Saturday, only to somehow manage to get the string of Christmas lights entangled in my hair as well. I guess I am just having a bad hair week. Or maybe my hair has Pica or was super hungry...who knows.

The tree is decorated "Old World" style. I used to read Christmas books as a child and I always loved the illustrations with the Christmas trees that had garland and red and gold ornaments. My tree looks good but I need to get those little white candles to put on the tree. Fakes ones of course, because real ones are a fire hazard and I am extremely clumsy. I mean, I got the lights tangled in my hair, just imagine what I would be like around lit candles..

Am I happy with the tree? No because it is never perfect enough. And that is how OCD works my friends. It has to be perfect but it never quiet reaches the mark. It is something all OCD sufferers learn to live with.

Then I got on the internet to search OCD news and I ended up reading this article with the title "Khloe: I'm an OCD Freak."

It's about Klohe Kardashian ( I have no idea why I bothered to read such drivel) and her Thanksgiving table and plans. There were these pictures of a grand and intricately decorated table and here is what she says.


“A sneak peak of my craziness today. I know you see my OCD in high gear when you look at my cookie jars,”

“I have a problem... I know... but I like everything neat and in its place. This kind of stuff makes me SO happy!! #HappyThanksgiving”



Yea, because nothing says happiness like OCD. Hell, I know that my life with OCD is all shits and giggles. I couldn't be happier that I spent six hours today trying not to obsess over whether or not I have thyroid cancer because I am being triggered by holiday stress. I am so glad that Khloe Kardashian knows my pain..... I now feel complete.....*snicker*

I am so sick of hearing how liking things orderly is OCD. Sick to death of it, seriously. Stop it already! You don't have OCD because you like to line up your cookie jars a certain way. What you might have is a plethora of self importance, narcissism, delusions of grandeur, and possibly some serious self esteem issues but the one thing you do not have is OCD. You do not say that OCD makes you so happy, if you actually have it. Because if you actually had it you would understand what a fucking horrible burden having OCD is. Here's a tip, there are actual words used to describe OCD. I won't burden you with the long list of what they are but I will tell you what they aren't. They aren't words like happy, or cool, or fashionable, or fun. It's mental illness and it blows. Okay? Is that so hard for people to understand?

And further more, I really don't want my mental illness to be sullied or trivialized by some small minded idiot who only got famous because her sister is famous for a sex tape and or possibly being peed on. I am so tired of seeing everything these ridiculous self absorbed people say plastered all over the news as if they have a fucking clue what they are talking about. They don't. So please for the love of all things holy, stop it already.

I think what bothers me the most is that this year has been the hardest for me OCD wise. I have been battling OCD for as almost as long as I can remember and I have been unmedicated for over three years now, but there have been a ton of stressers this year. Deaths in my family, diagnoses of medical issues, relearning how to function on somewhat of a schedule which truth be told, has never been my strong suit. And to have to read something so asinine as my mental illness/mental hell being reduced to something as paltry as lined up cookie jars just really pisses me off. As if it would make sense out of all of this pain and frustration if I would only be famous, ridiculously rich and stupid, and just line my crockery in eye pleasing patterns. Then and only then I could be "so happy". So no, I am not really happy right now. Especially, after reading an article that calls OCD sufferers "freaks"....(Gee thanks. That really bolsters my self esteem.) Or having to read ridiculous claims made by morally inept morons as to why their Thanksgiving preparations in any way compare to the absolute hell I have been living with the last thirty one years.

I mean, I think we as sufferers of all mental illnesses deserve more respect than that. We deserve to be treated like what we have is an actual illness and isn't something to be used as a general term for something odd or quirky. Just because you are having a bad day doesn't make you " Bipolar". Feeling paranoid does not make you "Schizo". And lining your cookie jars up in a row clearly does not make you "OCD". So stop it. Just stop.

And just so you know, poorly written news article author: We are magnificent, brave, courageous, intelligent, and strong individuals. We are many things to the many people in our lives. We are important and we matter. We are not "freaks". We are human beings. So, educate yourself because smearing us with words like "freak" shows your ignorance and bias. And I don't think anyone who suffers form mental illness finds your title amusing or cute.


Neurotic Nelly






Sunday, November 23, 2014

Unacceptable.....

 I was watching The View and I was quite flabbergasted. They were talking about the allegations about Mr. Cosby and the fifteen, I think it is now, accusers that say he raped them. I was upset at the side talking and swaying of the issue. Now, I don't always agree with Rosie O'Donnell's views but in this case I agreed wholeheartedly. The other's seemed to side track the issue and remain muted on the actual subject of rape. They made it about media slander and if there is a media slander going on anywhere let me tell you, just read the comments people are saying about these women accusing Mr. Cosby of rape.
It is beyond disheartening the way other people have dragged their names and assumed personal characters through the mud.

I do not know if Mr. Cosby did what he is accused of.  I do have an opinion on it, but that isn't even the point of this post. The point of this post is to clear up the overwhelming amount of ignorance there seems to be in the mass public about sexual assault and rape. And as sexual assault victim it really bothers me.

The things I have read and the victim shaming and blaming really upset me. Questions like, "Who waits thirty years to report a rape?" or "Why didn't they go to the police?" It seems like these would be easy questions to answer but they aren't.

In this country, 60% of sexual assaults are not reported to the police.  I know I did not report my assault. I was young, I was scared, and I was ashamed. I never spoke about it in a public way until last year. That means I didn't openly discuss it for...21 years. That in no way means that I made it up or I wanted attention. I only decided to post about it earlier this year because  one of my dear friends convinced me to in hopes that it may help someone else struggling with sexual assault issues. Otherwise, I may have never discussed it all. Not because it didn't affect me but because it did affect me and I don't like to relive it.

Sadly still in this day and age, many survivors do not report their rape or sexual assault. Even when they do only a staggering  3% of rapes get a conviction. That means that 97% of reported rapes and sexual assaults go unpunished by our legal system.

And why do survivors end up not reporting their rape or sexual assault? It hurts so much and the shame is so overwhelming. Having to relive the painful act over and over. Having to tell strangers or even worse our loved ones the unspeakable things that were done to us is devastating. The feeling that somehow it is our fault or that we did something to provoke an unwanted attack. After all, we are often times told by ill informed individuals, that if we had done something differently we might have been spared. Rape is an act not a consequence and yet often times it is implied that it is a consequence of something that we, the survivors, have done.

We don't report it for many reasons but a big reason is the exact thing these women are getting now with these comments. Victim blaming, "Why did she get so drunk then?" or "Why did she go back again?" or "Why did she take that pill he gave?". Sure things are better now in 2014 than they were in the 60's and 70's when it comes to prosecution of rape but lets be real for a second. How many times have you heard someone say it is a woman's fault for being so drunk? Or that she had some culpability because she was drinking, or walking alone at night, or dressed in a tight outfit? Like doing any of these things is a big sign that you are open to being sexually assaulted. Like these things make rape acceptable in some way. That kind of ignorance is still out there and it is still said out loud. Disgusting as it may be, there are people who still think this way. In the sixties and seventies there were no rape kits, no DNA evidence. It was his word against hers and the burden of proof would be hers to get him convicted or even at the very least, arrested in the first place. And just how easy do you think it would to convince a large group of people that some famous rich guy who everyone loves has raped you after you went to his room? And that you may have been drugged? And that you don't recall everything that happened because of it?

And let us not forget that as much as people want you to believe that women were," I am woman hear me roar,"  and "let's grow our arm pit hair long and burn our bras" in the 70's , at that time if your husband beat you, the police tended to consider it a "domestic issue" and he was often times not arrested. You were not necessarily legally protected from domestic abuse like you are now. This wasn't the television shows you see on t.v. This was reality. A reality that in the sixties women weren't even considered worthy enough to own the things we have now. You couldn't get a credit card in your name as an unmarried woman and your husband had to cosign it if you were married. You couldn't go to an Ivy league college, you couldn't serve on a jury, and you weren't even allowed to get the birth control pill unless your doctor signed off on it because you had extreme menstrual distress. There was no equality in the work place, there was no equality at all and yet some people still sit behind their computer screens and ask if these allegations were true, why they did not go to the police.....I don't ask why not, I ask why would they? What would have been done? Nothing most likely, except that other people would have blamed them, openly talked bad about them, and would have made misguided judgments about their character. (Guess that last part still hasn't changed much, has it.)

And rape isn't always like you see on television either. Not everyone screams no and fights. Some people don't fight. Some people can't fight and some people freeze. And no, not everyone runs away afterwards. Some people are in a state of shock that can take hours if not even days to really come to grips with what has happened to them. And for some people it takes years. So it is not that much of a stretch for me to believe that some of these women may have stayed in his hotel or condo for a few days after he left them there confused and sore. Especially, if they were drinking heavily or using drugs. They may have simply been so in shock that they were unsure what else to do. It happens.

There is still a double standard with these kind of allegations. There was no huge outpouring of comments claiming that the men who had been raped and assaulted by Jerry Sandusky were just saying that to get money.  Even though many of the claims had been done years after the assaults took place. There was an overwhelming amount of support for his victims. People were appalled. However, when several women come forward with disturbingly similar stories about Mr. Cosby all of a sudden it is not because they are victims, it is for their fifteen minutes of fame or they just want to cash in on it. They are all in cahoots. They just want to ruin a man they don't even know even though they receive nothing for their efforts. He can not be prosecuted due to time restraints. He does not have to settle in court for these particular allegations. What would be the purpose of raising these allegations if there wasn't some truth to them?

And probably the biggest thing that pisses me off about this whole thing is the idea that because Mr. Cosby has had such success and played such monumental characters that we feel like we know him or that he is like "America's Dad" people say he could not be a rapist. How could he be the thing that goes bump in the night? He could have any woman in the world why would he rape? ect. ect. ect.

We do not want to believe it and I understand that. I don't want to believe it either but not wanting to believe something doesn't make it not true.

Let me paint a different and yet oh so similar picture for you. There once was a doting father, a singer, a well respected community leader. He was a father of four. A "loving" husband. He was a former soldier. He was the ideal of what an "American Dad" should look like. He was holy and God fearing. Clean shaven and wore suits. He was even a well known Southern Baptist preacher in the area. Everyone loved him and he could in fact, have just about any woman he wanted. And he did have them. But that didn't stop him from raping and assaulting his two daughters from the ages of seven until they were sixteen and fifteen. Now, I don't want to believe that my grandfather was a rapist, a pedophile, a molester, a sexual deviant....but that doesn't make it not true. He was and no one on the outside looking in would have ever suspected it. No one would have believed it, and they didn't believe it when they were told. And just so we are clear, this happened in the 60's and 70's. So don't sit there and tell me that not only is it impossible that someone who is seen as a "hero" could easily get away with that kind of crime, but that you would be believed if you went to the police and reported it. Because I am here to tell you that is complete bullshit. And just to quell any questions about time being a factor in the truth of accusations, my mother and aunt waited almost thirty years before they started openly talking about it. The thirty years they did not speak of it does not make it any less true or as some commentators have suggested, made it any less devastating. Simply because someone doesn't report it for decades or even never reports it all, does not mean that it did not affect them in a horribly disfiguring way. That is just crazy.

I am not saying that Mr. Cosby did this. What I am saying is that the reasons people give for not believing the allegations are born of ignorance and bias. You can not say someone isn't a rapist because he/she seems to be the perfect father figure/mother figure. You can not say that someone isn't an offender just because of the wonderful success they have had. You can not predict how a rape victim will act or say how they should react to being raped. That is ridiculous. It's unfair and it is ignorant. You can not simply say an accusation is not true because the accuser acts in a way you find to be different than how you think you would react in that situation. Every rape is different just as every situation is different and unless you have been raped or assaulted then in my opinion you have no right to judge what actual victims do or don't do afterwards.


Being a survivor of a sexual assault, the daughter and niece of survivors, the great grand daughter of a survivor, the sister of a survivor, and the friend of many survivors I feel the need to stand up for these women. I feel the responsibility to stand up for all survivors of sexual abuse and sexual assault. Whether it be men, women, or children. For as survivors, if we sit on the fence or accept other people's ignorance when it comes to why survivors wait, or don't report, or allow others to victim blame then we have failed them and ourselves. Rape is not a choice. It is not a consequence. It is never okay. And those who report it should be looked upon with respect and compassion because they are brave. They were able to do something many are too afraid to do and they should not be punished for doing so. They should be believed and they should be treated like the human beings that they are. It is always easy to judge others form behind a computer screen because what they are claiming may not be what you want to hear, but I have to ask you this:

Would be so quick to judge these women if they were your daughter, your sister, your aunt, your wife, your girlfriend, or your mother?

Because 1 out of 6 American women has been the victim of an attempted or completed rape in her lifetime.

Would you look your loved one in the eye and ask the questions you keep asking these women? Would you ask your loved one if she was just "making it up" for fame or money? Would you tell her it happened to her because she was careless or asked for it? Or claim that it was just a "relationship gone wrong"? And how would you feel if someone said that about them after they had been victimized over and over again, first by their rapist and secondly by ignorant people that felt they knew how "a rape victim should act"?
Because when you judge these women that have come forward to tell their stories, that is what you are doing. Telling them that you know more about their rape then they do.

And that is completely unacceptable.

Neurotic Nelly

Thursday, November 20, 2014

Feeling Like A Loser.....

Today was one of the days I hate....the day I have my three month Diabetes check up. I have to fast which makes me cranky. I have to have my blood drawn and my finger stuck, which doesn't bother me too much as  long as they don't try to press the diabetes stick needle through the other side of my finger. I hate just being in that germ infested place touching things and breathing the same infected air. Ugh.

I was more than a little freaked out when an elderly lady sat next to me, grabbed a magazine from the rack and proceeded to lick her finger and turn the pages one by one. Lick, swipe page, lick, swipe page, lick. ect. I was trying my best not to stare and cringe with every slow motion movement of her finger going to her mouth and back down to the magazine page. I was horrified. All I can say is I hope that lady got her flu shot already.....I really truly do.

After I used hand sanitizer because watching her do that made my hands feel dirty, I got my blood drawn and my finger stick done and my AC1 was higher than my last check up. It was a 6.6 and now it is a 7.2. I was upset. I have been cycling on my elliptical bike five miles a day five days a week. I haven't been as rigid in my diet as before but honestly, with the exercise I thought I was doing well. But I guess that is not the case. Now I have to be on a small dose of an ACE inhibitor to protect my kidneys for the next three months because having an AC1 above 7 can start to cause kidney damage. Hopefully at my next three month check up it will back down to where it was. I am so mad at myself right now. I am not sure what I could do differently but still I am beyond pissed. I am trying to control my Diabetes and get to where I don't need medication and yet now I have somehow messed it up and have to get on yet another medication. Double UGH!

Medications scare me. I have OCD worries about their side effects and I try not to read them because if it is bad, even if it is extremely rare, I will totally wig out about it. And I don't think I need to stress myself out anymore than I already am. I mean...Dear God. Now I am terrified of not taking it because of my stupid Diabetes could be hurting my internal organs and at the same time I am terrified to take the medicine because of side effects that most likely won't even happen to me. And I can't help but feel like this is all of my fault.

I feel really deflated. I am still cranky but now I also feel like a loser. I know that it is a small setback and I can most likely get my AC1 level back down but it just really feels likes I was punched in the gut. Like I can't do the simplest thing. Like I suck at being healthy. Like I just suck period. I think I am just going to have a good cry when I am done writing this. I know that how I am feeling is the negative self talk but that doesn't really make me feel any better at the moment. Triple UGH.

 Oh well, there isn't anything I can do to change the past. All I can do is try harder.....Hopefully I will be in a better mental state on Tuesday and have something funny or uplifting to write about then. Hope you guys have an amazing weekend.

Neurotic Nelly