#poor 13 year old boy who is forever in puberty

[makshu]

LOOK AT HIM!!!

All his fantasies became real at that moment.

[zalrb]

OKAY. SINCE ANONS SEEM TO BE INTERESTED. HERE IS MY DAWSON’S CREEK 1X01 REVIEW.

@jayciethings​ IF YOU ARE INTERESTED.

1. I think the opening scene does a good job in establishing the central struggle of the season and it does it in 3 minutes: 1) things need to change and Joey wants them to 2) Dawson doesn’t see why anything has to change and doesn’t see what Joey is trying to say 3) burgeoning sexuality 4) Joey-Dawson friendship.

2. I also think the Joey-Dawson friendship is also established really well and it’s actually a time where dialogue and action work in tandem. They give a brief history/overview of their friendship: “you’ve been sleeping over since you were 7″ “i’ve seen you pick your nose, scratch your butt” while also showing them watch tv, playfight and ultimately end up sleeping in the same bed, like they did when they were 7.

3. I actually don’t find the dialogue as annoying right now.

4. I will forever be angry that they didn’t pay to have the original music with their scenes because Dawson’s Creek is not Dawson’s Creek without “I Don’t Wanna Wait”.

5. “He did it again, he grabbed my ass.” “Like you even have one.” Joshua’s delivery is perfect because it’s resigned and un-offended.

6. “I’m Jen.” “Oh right, the granddaughter from New York.” That actually isn’t clunky. It’s a good way to do exposition.

7. “You look different.” “Puberty.” LOL Joey Whitter sass.

8. Honestly, at least so far, Joey’s behaviour makes sense for a 15 year old girl who is in love with her best friend who doesn’t see her as a sexual being and then has to watch him salivate over The New Girl. No, that isn’t Jen’s fault but sometimes people on this site act like teenagers or adults for that matter don’t have messy and not-so-great emotions/reactions to things. Unless, apparently, they’re men who are rapists and serial killers, then the understanding is boundless.

9. It’s actually refreshing to hear “Mr. Leery” “Mrs. Leery” since teens in shows now just call adults by their first names, which I would NEVER do. I still can’t do that. If I had to address initiumseries’ dad it would be Mr...

10. I also think it’s funny that this dialogue is being made fun of but this kind of cadence and irony is the kind of thing shows go for now -- Riverdale tries to emulate this and I would argue Euphoria tries to do an edgier version of this. Like Nellie insulting Pacey, that kind of tone is what they’re trying to go for with Cheryl.

11. I’ll admit this is more fun than I thought it would be so far.

12.  I LOVE WHAT’S EDGY FOR THE NINETIES. SHE IS IN A SUNDRESS. SETTLE DOWN.

13. “I have it on pretty good authority that mothers have excellent sex.” LOL Pacey, dick move.

14. Renting The Graduate, how on the nose.

15. THEIR CLOTHES ARE SO 90s.

16. The soundtrack pisses me off so much.

17. Oh Dawson. I knew so many self-important, I’m-so-deep-I-like-these-kinds-of-movies or -this-kind-of-music boys in high school. Like I find it so typical that he thinks his obsession with Spielberg would interest Jen.

18. Dawson taking Jen to his studio is like Klaus taking Caroline to sees his drawings.

19. Oh man, I remember being a kid and watching these teen shows with my cousin and seeing how Capeside High School was with everyone on a quad and throwing footballs and being like HIGH SCHOOL IS GOING TO BE LIKE THAT and my cousin just being like

20. I like how Dawson’s Creek is the whitest show and they still managed to have more Black extras than Gilmore Girls.

21. Dawson and Jen actually have a nice chemistry. But everyone is coming on super strong with Jen and she’s just kind of like, this seems normal.

22. The film teacher is a dick for no reason. I’ve had my fair share of dickish teachers but this is excessive right off the bat.

23. Lol poor Jen, she really is trying with Joey.

24. I like how a status of Joey’s class is the fact that her sister is engaged to a Black man *eye roll*

25. I don’t know of any school where teachers ate in the cafeteria with the students. In my school there were teachers who supervised the cafeteria but that’s it. Wow, I spent like no time in my high school cafeteria.

26. “I’m having a climax issue”

27.  Tamara, Ms. Jacobs, you should be in jail.

28. I like how this school LOOKS like a school.

29. Ugh, a trans jokes. Ugh, there was so much of that in the 90s.

30. “Nothing has to change. We can talk about anything.” Honestly, from a screenwriting point of view, this is a solid pilot. I remember in a screenwriting class I took, we studied The Social Network and every 10 pages someone calls Zuckerberg either an asshole or a jerk or something in that vein as a way to reiterate a key part of the theme of the movie and while I don’t have the pilot script in front of me, DC does reiterate the theme of the season frequently without it being repetitive.

31. The dialogue isn’t as hyperbolic as I remember tbh. And I’m going to say it again, shows are aiming for this, even the one episode I saw of the Winx Saga, when they try to flirt about mansplaining, when she’s fighting with her mom about how she’s not a feminist, they’re trying for this. But DC manages to make it more natural and it’s because the Core 4 have a charm. Even if you hate Dawson.

32. Who is Dawson’s dad. Is he in something else?

33. No, I just think he looks like Dr. Cox.

34. Dawson’s rant about sex not being important is hilarious. Yes, Dawson, you’re just pursuing Jen out of intellectual and philosophical desire.

35. I like how Joey is supposed to be a tomboy just because she’s the only girl/woman in Capeside who doesn’t wear a sundress.

36. Poor Jen.

37. Joey is super dramatic, I get that, but I kind of love it because I’m going RELAX but the way I would to a teenager. Like CALM. DOWN. Also “all I do is understand” is something that we needed to see more of before that argument.

38. Dawson, you never ask anyone else any questions about themselves, lol.

39. “How can you say you were just renting a movie??” Pacey is such a fifteen year old and I do wish the show would just ... let him be one? And what I mean by that is Pacey is supposed to be the friend with the edge, the fact that he “pursues” Ms Jacobs is supposed to attest to that fact, it’s framed as taboo and yet they’re presented as being on equal footing, even the way her date moves to grab him out of his seat when the fact of the matter is, he’s a kid, and if the show didn’t actually make the Tamara/Pacey relationship a storyline and made it about another way teenagers have certain idealized perceptions of relationships or apply kid knowledge to adult situations which still makes them kids, it would’ve been interesting too.

40. Dawson is literally dressed in different shades of beige. If that doesn’t say everything you need to know about his character --- which is intentional. But like jfc man.

41. I love that they can’t say “masturbate” so she has to say “walk your dog” I LOVE THE NINETIES.

42. And you know what, after that question was asked, the sheer heartbreak on Joey’s face and the sadness in Dawson’s eyes is done really well.

43. LMAO SO ANGSTY. No one does angst like the 90s.

44.  And legitimately, the ending of this pilot is great screenwriting because a change is noted, the beginning of the episode, Joey does end up staying the night, the end of the episode she leaves because they both realize it’s true that things are changing and yet Dawson answers her question about what time of day he masturbates and to who because they’re still Dawson and Joey. And that’s the way a pilot should be written.

OK. I’ve done it.

[noxleyfin]

Newsies Imagine: Homeless And Annoyed PART 2

Newsies x 13-year-old (M) Newsie (Homeless And Annoyed) Part. 2

→ a/n: I don’t know any of the actors personally nor do I own them or their characters. What’s written below is fiction and should be thought of and treated as such. I am essentially using them as a name-claim and face-claim. I’m creating my own character and using the actors as background characters, and just using their name and features for details. I do not directly associate the actors with any ideas used in my writing. This writing is to be used for entertainment and fictional purposes only. → summary: this kids done with his living situation and stumbles upon a fellow guy in need. → warnings: mentions of past abuse, violence, strong language, stupid Delancey's, bad writing → word count: 1097 → completion: done → (Y/N) - Your Name 

Saturday, August 15th, 1899 5:04 p.m. 2nd Person POV

Life sucks. And that’s a fact. 

“Hey, dirtbag! Where ya’ running to?” Your new ‘friend’ called from behind you.

Up your mother’s ass.

Of course, you didn’t say that. Probably wouldn’t have been a very good idea. 

What you really said was, “Didn’t know there was a curfew, Nerf Herder!” 

...That probably wasn’t much better, was it?

“The hell you call me?” 

You turned into your alley. “You deaf or somethin’?” 

Swinging your body around, you watched the dark shadow figure follow behind you. 

Well, at least this one isn’t super ugly. It’s real embarrassing to get beat by a guy who’s less handsome than you. Luckily, that doesn’t happen often. He was older than you, maybe by 5 years. His face was bare of any hair but his dumb looking hat distracted you from the fact that he hasn’t puberty yet. You’ve seen him around before; he and his brother like to go around messing with people. Speaking of which, where is his brother? 

“So you found the rat, Oscar?”

Speak of the asshole.

“He tried to escape, but he couldn’t get past me,” Oscar informed his brother with a smirk.

You just stood there looking at them and they looked at you. 

“Get him.”

Your mind was fuzzy after he said that. 

“Geroff!”

You could faintly hear the sound of your body flopping to the ground and the insults that the brothers yelled at you as white-hot pain exploded everywhere. “Leave me alone!” 

It felt different from when that one man kicked you in the chest, that had only lasted a few days but this felt like it would stay with you forever. “I’m...I’m warning’ ya’.” You don’t even remember when they stopped hitting you. 

“Hey! Leave ‘em alone!” 

And then it went dark. 

Sunday, August 16th, 1899 8:13 a.m. 3rd Person POV

“What’s gonna happen to him?” 

“I got no clue, Kid.” 

“But what about his family?” 

Les wasn’t exactly happy about what happened to his new friend. The night before, while on a walk, Race and Jojo had found  a half-dead (Y/N) unconscious in an alley with the Delancys on top of them. When they finally managed to chase them away, they dragged him between them to the Lodging House. The warden had sent for a doctor and Snipeshooter ran to the Jacobs’ apartment to bring David and Les along. Les, unfortunately, was not allowed to stay the night so only David could come. When he saw what had happened to the boy who had reunited him with his little brother, he went into a rage, mumbling about how he was gonna kill Oscar and Morris, all while wiping at the bloody wound on (Y/N)’s forehead. 

After he cleaned them up to the best of his ability, the doctor arrived with the warden and Davey was shoved to the side. With an extensive evaluation, the doctor concluded that while nothing was broken (thank god), he had a severe concussion and was ordered to stay in bed for at least a week. The newsies gave him the extra bunk that David usually used while he slept over. In the meantime, David decided to sleep on the old couch in the front room. It wasn’t comfortable in the slightest, but he wasn’t leaving. He felt a strange protectiveness over the young boy, like he was another younger brother. 

Jack sighed. Les had been brought over by Race not too long ago and wouldn’t shut his trap. We love the kid but (Y/N) was right, the kid really is annoying. 

“We don’t even know if the guy has a family or not, Kid. We just have to wait ta ask him.” He explained. 

“C’mon, Les,” David called from the corner. “Leave Jack alone. Wanna draw with Smalls?” He gestured to the close-in-age girl sitting next to him. 

Smalls looked up with a smile and waved Les over. Les grinned and jogged over and was handed a green crayon and the two kids began to color together. At this point, David started to worry and for the fifth time that day, sat next to (Y/N) and brushed some hair out of his face. 

“Dave,” Jack sighed from his spot at the cards table, “Leave the poor kid alone. You gonna give him a heart attack when he wakes up.”

David sighed and began to stand up, knowing Jack was right, but as soon as he did, a soft groan emitted from (Y/N)’s body. Conversations stopped as everyone stared at the young boy. Jack and Davey were the closest and therefore, the first faces he saw when (Y/N) finally opened his eyes. They opened slowly, more groans and grunts coming out as he did. However, when he saw who was above him, he was not happy.

“Get away!” He started to yell. He went to sit up but Jack held him down...only making (Y/N) more mad but he only attempted to fight for a few minutes before falling back in exhaustion. “Where...where am I?” He stuttered out, trying to move his head but hissing at the pain it caused. 

“Woah! Slow down, Kid,” Jack did his best to calm him down but he was still attempting to fight the tight grip on his shoulders. 

“Please let me go,” (Y/N) begged. David could see tears forming in his eyes. His gaze met Jack’s and he nodded to the other boy.

Jack slowly let go of (Y/N)’s shoulders but didn’t put his arms down right away. 

“Is’okay. We ain’t gonna hurt ya’.”

Eventually (Y/N) relaxed back into the hard mattress but anyone could see he was still tense; that is, everyone except Les. As soon as he thought was appropriate, the boy rushed over to the other, ignoring Smalls’ offended look when he threw her green crayon to the floor. 

“(Y/N)!” He called out, smiling brighter than he had in a fair while.

Once (Y/N) saw Les, at first he grimaced but it soon melted into a reluctant smile. “Hey, Kid,” he called briefly. That was enough for the expectant Les. He began to ramble on about nothing and everything while David and Jack backed off, choosing to ignore (Y/N)’s desperate look. They exited the room and spoke quietly despite being away from the group. 

“You think he’s gonna be okay?” David asked. 

Jack thought for a moment. He and the others had seen the flinches and heard the boy’s not so quiet pleas back in the bunkroom; it wasn’t hard to determine what had possibly happened to him in previous times. He sighed deeply before answering his friend, “I’m not sure, Dave. But that’s what we’re here for.”

[tyler-games-hard]

Buckle up for a life story! 

I’m not sure how much I’ve talked about this, but here’s how I figured out I was gay and what christian school taught me and how its okay to be gay! 

Trigger warnings: Suicide, self harm, derogatory terms

This school was hard core Christian. It was run out of a church, small town based, very much so had that bible thumping redneck agenda going on. Most of the kids going to this school also went to church there and their parents worked for the school, church, or both, and EVERYONE knew each other and who they were and where they stood on the totem pole. If your parents worked for the school or church and you went to church there, you were automatically higher on the pole, and sad for me, being an outsider, parents didn’t work for the school or go to church there, I was smack bottom. Between the totem pole and the typical private school cliques, it was social hell for poor me. I was a California avocado swimming in a pool of southern sweet tea sat atop a mountain of bibles, with no end in sight.

 So as a 10 year old 4th grader, moving from a Californian private school that was relatively laid back to a southern private school with strict uniforms and even taught Latin, it was a huge culture shock. At this same time I was also beginning puberty, and that’s about the time you start discovering which gender you prefer, if any at all and let me tell you that first year of being questioned which boy I liked when I really was starting to take a liking to the girls, was weird. I felt ashamed of it, but at the same time not. The stuff I was taught growing up that I should get married to a man and give him kids and be a home maker was telling me it was wrong, but something deep inside was telling me no, this is right, you don’t need to marry a man, you don’t like men (to be found out later I’m actually a bit more flexible lol), and it was deeply confusing. I saw my fellow classmates and saw them all expressing interest in the opposite sex, and I really was just hiding the fact that I took a preference to the girls by saying I really didn’t care. To be noted, though, I had been struggling with my gender identity since I was very young, before I even started kindergarten, so whether at the time I was straight or gay, it was changing most definitely.

 Around this same year, 4th grade, I was introduced to an instant messaging app called Palringo after I got an iPod touch for Christmas. A quick overview of this app, at the time I got in to it, all you needed was an email, and you could have an account, and you could join whatever group you wanted. The age restrictions at the time were technically 13+, but hey look at me, rebellious 10 year old. I ended up joining a group for teens and lied, saying I was 16, using a fake picture and everything. I posed as this very girly girl in my online persona, I was somewhat flirtatious, “dated” a mod from the group  (dating being we had each others usernames in our profiles with hearts) and learned way too much, way too soon. I was 10 years old and the people in this group thought I was 16 because I lied and were telling me about sex, anatomy of both sexes, and teaching me slang and phrases one would find in urban dictionary.

I became obsessed with this app. It took over my life. I didn’t really talk to people at school anymore, I didn’t talk to my one friend on my block, and basically my last couple years of elementary school disappeared on this app where I learned about sex, sexuality, gender, and drama. By the time I was 11, I had become pretty solid in the fact that I didn’t like boys, but pretended I did at school. Instead I was open about liking girls on Palringo, since people didn’t judge me there. I eventually found a group of people who I consider to be my high school friends. When I met them, I came clean about my lie with another lie, just not as far fetched. I told them I was 13 instead of 16, yet in reality I was still just 11 or 12. And I got along well with these people. I even met my current girlfriend during this time in these groups. But my real life in person social life was dead. I connected with no one, I became severely depressed, and by the time I was 13 or 14, I was self harming.

 My depression came on about the time I was 12 or 13. I was t this Christian school that I didn’t belong in, I couldn’t be myself there, and my social life was dead between that and palringo taking over my life. I was also dealing with gender identity issues and being scared to talk about it with anyone. I certainly couldn’t talk to my parents about it, I had attempted to tell them about liking girls and being gay and they told me I was going to hell and took all my electronics and went through my private possessions. I couldn’t talk to anyone at school about it because that place was the same way, Christian and frowned on it. It’s not like I can change who I’m attracted to. So again I turned to palringo, which was fine communication wise, it just lacked that physical aspect. I couldn’t hear them say the words, or I couldn’t feel them hug me, and I really thrive off human touch in all forms, romantic, platonic, etc.

I quickly spiraled into being suicidal at the age of 14, already been self harming for about 8 months, at that point. I still have horrible scars from it that I’ll probably have forever. I had been seriously dating my girlfriend (who I’m still with!!) for a year by the time I was 15. It was long distance and text based, sometimes we could talk on the phone but had to make sure our parents didn’t find out, so that was very limited. She has talked me out of suicide a few times now, but the most notable time was the very first time. After living in Alabama and going to this Christian school, my dad’s job moved back to California, so we picked up and moved again. I was about 15 I believe, or 14 about to be 15, and we moved in the last third of my 8th grade year. My parents, for financial reasons, decided to put me in public school for the last third of 8th grade. I had never attended public school at this point. I’d only ever attended private Christian schools. Oh man did this public school almost kill me. I experienced outright bullying like never before. I’d experienced it before but it was always subtle and underhanded. At this public school, it was very direct. I was called fag, fatty, fat lesbian, and more of those in other variations, along with bullying in the form of the popular girls wouldn’t let me change in the bathroom because they didn’t like the fact I wouldn’t change in front of them. They would harass me and physically push me around. And of course I didn’t fight back, I was taught my whole life to turn the other cheek.

That small span of 3 months, I almost put a bullet in my head. I couldn’t talk to my parents, they disapproved of the fact that I was gay, they didn’t like the people I hung out with because they were also gay, I wouldn’t have gotten sympathy or help from them. I knew where my dad kept the guns. We were in a small apartment that my dad’s company was providing us and my dad stored his guns in the closet in his room. I planned it for a week. Grocery day, I would come home from school while my mom and sister were still out, I’d grab the hand gun, load it with one bullet, and stash it under my bed, which I did. It sat under my bed for 3 days. Every night, I sat in bed thinking about pulling it out and finally ending it. For all I knew, high school would just be another 4 years of this bullying. One night, I was sitting in bed after a particularly bad day. They bullying had been extra bad and I was beyond reasoning. I finally pulled that gun out. I was talking to my girlfriend, Jali, and telling her my goodbyes. I told her goodbye and was talking to her, trying to calm my storm and get the balls to just end it. She had nothing but soothing words for me. Somehow she knew I was serious, despite me not actually telling her what I was doing or about to do. I remember putting the gun in my mouth, loaded and cocked, all I had to do was flex that index finger, and I would be gone. Jali had sent me a message saying “I will miss you. You have been nothing but a light in my life and I don’t know what I’ll do without you. Please don’t do this.” I remember it vividly. I can see the screen in my head to this day as if I’m reading it all over again. I put the gun away. Unloaded it and stashed it back under my bed. And I cried. I cried so hard my eyes hurt for days. I bottled so much up and hid so much from everyone in an attempt to be the person my parents want me to be and to be strong for all my friends and for Jali that I was being broken from the inside out. I forever thank her for keeping me alive that night and the other couple times I was close to ending it. She kept me around to finally meet her beautiful self and finally find peace and acceptance.

 This was a tough post to write, and it didn’t even really scratch to surface of the things I experienced in middle school and high school. Christian school showed me that even in extreme peer pressure to be like everyone else and in strict guidelines of who to be, you can still pull through and be your own light and be yourself. The internet and Palringo have shown me things my parents haven’t even talked to me about yet. I’m 20 years old and my parents still have not had a sex talk with me. I learned it from the internet and my internet friends. They taught me it’s okay to be me and who I am and that I am my own person, not something to please my parents.

  Don’t fall down the same hole I did. Talk about your feelings. Be happy, be yourself, and don’t let anyone tell you who to be, from your parents to your friends to your partner, you’re the only person to tell yourself who you are

[countdownto65]

Empathy for Self

What is the nemesis of shame? Empathy.

What is the root of most of your shame? Attention seeking, codependentcy and sexual misconduct.

Empathy. You were the oldest in the family fighting for parental attention against two babies.

You hit puberty early. This was a 2 fold problem. You started getting attention furthering the tight shirts but in turn Everyone in 4th grade started calling you a ho. You had never even kissed a boy. You were not a ho and kids are fucking mean.

But you know who else’s attention you got by having boobs, dressing in body suits and seeking attention at 11 years old? A fucking pedophile. While your behavior made you an easy target, NO ONE DESERVES TO BE SEXUALLY EXPLOITED AT 12, 13, 14, OR 15 YEARS OLD. Did you fuckin get that? No matter what your actions it was not your fault they targeted you. Even if you agreed to it at 13, 14, 15 you can leave that self blame right here bc that was their bad NOT YOURS. This is where you learned sex = attention, power, control. They would buy you stuff, get you high and drunk, make you feel like the best person they know all (not explicitly stated) for sexual behavior. I learned a skewed view on relationships and appropriate sexual behavior in adult married behavior. I learned to emotionally detach from sex. I learned to over ride the “this shit ain’t right” feeling you get in your chest when you are uncomfortable in a situation. All of these things are what set your boundaries and your very left field view of what kind of attention makes you feel worthwild. This was not your fault and sometimes life has shitty things happen that effect our outlook forever.

So it sure was easy to sleep with boyfriends, I mean you “loved” them, they were always older, sex was something that didn’t come from everybody so with my sexual skills I learned from the pedophiles I was the best gf a 16 year old could have. And bc I could so easily separate sex from emotion (as a conditioned response to molestation) and it was a way to get boys I liked to notice me, I gave it up easily. Not necessarily sex, but sexual acts. It was one way I felt power and control. Boys treated me special on the surface bc I was pretty with tight clothes…but I failed to realize the power was momentary at the cost of respect. Both self respect and respect of everyone else. This was when my first experience with the fuck and run type of dude came in. The first time I cared. After that I didn’t at least I told myself I didn't but This was when I began codependency. They didn’t always fuck and run. I was good at getting boys to stick around for a while. I was a serial dater. I had to have a significant other to feel worth so I had too many boyfriends. Always one on hand one on the backburner. This was you reaching out for real connection, something you felt had been missing both with your parents, your abusers and your random sexual encounters. When I had a bf I was faithful. I know that sounds fucked up bc I just said I had a backburner but I was never sleeping with this other guy. I just friend zoned him knowing he liked me so I could establish my safety net. So one day at 17 Ieft home, went to a house party, hooked up with the guy who’s house it was (Matt) and that was the start of my first adult relationship. I loved him from the bottom of my toes but he often cheated on me and I never left him for it. It was at this time that I severed my relationship with my abusers. I was old enough to at least have an inkling something wasn’t right, plus now I considered it cheating and I didn’t cheat on him. He started selling drugs. We both got into cocaine. It was easy bc I dated the dopeman.

Then he went to prison. I continued the relationship with him but continued to date/sleep with men while he was away. This was when I caught an std and began stripping on weekends. This is still caused by poor boundaries and a skewed idea of sex and power… Set in motion by sexual abuse. By now I had slowed way down on cocaine but had a huge weed and alcohol habit. I worked at a catholic preschool during the week but stripped to pay for my substances on Sat nights. This set off a little bit of the uncomfortable double life feeling but I pushed it down. I also hustled people for substances. Although I never slept with anyone for money or drugs. But I def made them think I might so they would get me high. Never felt bad either bc if your a dude willing to be got you deserved to get hustled…that was my mindset. I also saw stripping as a hustle. Hustle to me means fuck with a lame walk with a limp. I mean if your gonna be thirsty I’ll take your money. This is probably when I acquired my mindset that most dudes were creeps and out to get me. I realize now that by appearing easy I was literally attracting creeps but at the time I enjoyed the attention and the feeling of superiority and has a huge sample of men to confirm my bias.

Every now and then though I got tricked out of my hard exterior and caught feelings. This is my deep emotional need for connection, to feel worth while. This is where I met my daughters father. He was a giant red flag but problem with bad boundaries and emotional regulation is if I liked you I would ignore red flags and become overly obsessed with you. This has continued to be a problem throughout adulthood.

Anyways I dated Tony until He went to prison, then Matt got out of prison until we broke up, then Tony got out of prison and we has Olivia. Then Tony went back to prison and I met Jason, I left Jason when Tony got out of prison but when Tony and I broke up I went back to Jason and we had Leah. Are you seeing the boomerang effect of codependentcy and back burner relationships. One stable relationship was not enough.

I wanted Jason to be different. To be a family but unfortunately Jason turned out to be very abusive mentally, physically and emotionally. He was an alcoholic and a mean one. But for some reason I loved him and let him stomp on me over and over. He took my confidence. He took my pride. He took my soul. I tried to break up with him 30 times he would say no and just wouldn’t leave. I was faithful to him until I moved out into subsidised housing. But even then I didn’t have multiple men just one man that to this day I love. This guy put up with being #2 for 2 years on and off. Maybe he knew I loved him, maybe he knew that I was stuck with Jason, maybe he knew I needed to feel wanted and worthy. During this I felt guilty and shameful. I eventually bought a house and moved Jason in. That is when this other guy got a new gf and left me alone. It was like mourning a breakup that I couldn’t tell anyone. Eventually I legally evicted Jason and this left me with a self worth and connection black hole.

I acted out for a minute on my usual single m.o.. Then an old friend from middle school came in. He was different then others in that he was genuinely nice and cared for my well being. Unfortunately he also came with a huge dose of depression leading to at the time an inability to keep a job or help with housework. But I stayed with him on and off for the next few years bc I loved him for his emotional support and that he made me feel worthy. Plus it was safe. As a woman in her 30s, I am at the point that if I’m in a relationship I don’t cheat or scope out new guys or have a backburner. It kept me emotionally reeled in. But bc of my trust issues, bc of my lack of feeling worthy, bc of my resentment for him watching me struggle, and bc of my need for excitement or passion (see drama) I couldn’t be with him forever. Even after he got better and held a job and helped my brain short circuits and told me that our lack of connection was insurmountable. I broke his heart and he did nothing wrong. I am just still searching for that lasting “in love” connection that I am not sure exists. I harbor huge guilt here. Both for his feelings and for what could be wrong with me that I left what I said I wanted. That maybe my brain will never let me really love. My only empathy here is that I am working on my shit and all I can do is that.

Every time in my adult life when I have been unhappy in a relationship I’ve left instead of fixing. I have searched out attention through suggestive facebook posts or selfies or sexting. I have been emotionally raw towards men. I had a shitty attitude toward relationships. Anytime that I was single or had freedom I either had a fuck buddy that I didn’t feel anything for or sometimes I would make a strong connection and go all in. I would rush it sexually (again not necessarily full sex but messing around for sure) and more times then not I get played. Within 2 weeks after they no longer answer my texts or calls. This is the shit adult shame is built from. How can you be so blind and stupid? Why can’t you be stable and happy? But here is where I need an empathy piece. Your sexuality was already not healthy then Jason stripped you of any self worth. He often told you no one could ever love me bc I was such a low down terrible person, a piece of shit mother, a whore. Six years of that and you begin to believe it. So if a man comes along and sells you a dream of being loveable its hard not to want with all your heart to believe them. And sexuality is my only tool I know for reeling them in. But when things get too serious I start getting scared of being broken or having to work on things that historically haven’t worked or old scars become obsessions.

I am at a point in my life now that I want to change but Tbh I don’t know how. I want to regain respect for myself and I would like to change peoples opinion of me or better yet not care. This has sent me into a major mental health crisis. I want to know how to reel it in and gain respect while still being true to myself. I still yearn for spark, sex and connection but I want to do it healthily. I want to take the emotional polarization and shame out of sex. Instead of not caring at all or being a crazy obsessive smothering weirdo and throwing myself at someone then feeling like an idiot for falling so hard. So maybe dates in public, counting actions over words and putting time in between the spark and the sex.

I am still struggling with what to do about social media. I mean I need to chill on the provocative selfies, attention seeking posts, and entertaining anyone that messages me… but I still like to be noticed. I want to post selfies and I think dirty memes are funny. Anyway this is long. I am still figuring shit out. And I can’t just look at empathy without taking inventory of what I could have done differently. But this post is empathy and it did help take off a small piece of that shame.

(*when I say act out sexually I don't mean I've had hundreds of partners but rather I have been quick to sexually experiment but I have also developed a "stop point". Don't get it too twisted.)

[de-la-tierre-a-la-lune]

I was tagged in the proust thingy by @sunny-day-sky.

I’ll tag @sagequeen @omgparsonpls @aux-barricades @bunjolras @thegoodlesmisurlsaretaken and @andwhenitdries

1. What is your idea of idea of perfect happiness? Never being scared to be me and never having to be forced to endure harrowing situations.

2. What is your greatest fear? Never being able to move out of my parents house and being forever stuck answering to my birthname.

3. what is a trait you most deplore about yourself? I don’t know when to shut up and I’m incapable of being good for anything but useless facts about things few people care about.

4. What is a trait you deplore about other people? Being a bigot and acting like a hypocrite.

5. Which living person do you admire. I may not like my mom, but I admire her for getting out of her abusive mother’s hold. And Gerard Way because he dealt with depression and suicidal thoughts and made it out and he seems happier for it.

6. Your greatest extravagance? Books and bubble baths.

7. What is your current state of mind? Constantly flip flopping between mad at the world and being depressed. A constant since I was twelve.

8. What do you consider an overrated virtue? Silence and Purity definitely. But, the silence thing is more because of my tinnitus than anything. But, my problem wth purity is that it’s only ever applied to girls and feminine people.

9. On what occasion do you lie? When myparents or aunts and uncles ask me why I dress like an emo boy. When my family excluding my siblings ask me if I like anyone. When people ask me my name.

10. What do you most dislike about your appearance? My nose and scars. The scars are from doing stupid shit like reading and crashing into a display at cvs or falling out of the truck. My nose though. my cousin broke it because he thought it’d be funny to throw a snowball with a rock in it at me.

11. Which living person do you despise? A certain ‘Politician’

12. What is a quality you most like in a man? Compassion? I guess?

13. What is a quality you most like in a woman? Same as the previous answer. Compassion.

14. Which words or phrases do you overuse? “Totally” “like” “Totally Fucked” “fuck” “screw the patriarchy” “___ only benefits the bourgeois.” “I will punch you.” And the most famous one “Didja know-”

15. When and where were you te happiest? Oooh. Probably like when I was eight and we went to Disneyland for my cousin’s fifth grade promotion. It was the last time we went cause we were pretty poor and I probably went on the Pirates ride and the Indiana Jones ride like five times each. I still have the Minnie mouse doll I got there.

16. What talent would you most like to have? Definitely a talent with clay. I suck at it but the last time I worked woth clay, I made a cup that has symbols from my Celtic and Mexican heritage.

17. If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be? My nose and my voice. I kinda hate my voice because I sound like a ten year old with a cold. And my nose is why it sounds like I constantly have a cold. Deviated septum and all that.

18. What do you consider your greatest accomplishment? I know this is kinda depressing, but making it to eighteen. I’m from the bad part of LA and I’ve had suicidal ideations since I was twelve, so making it this far is pretty big for me.

19. If you were to die and come back as a person or a thing, what would it be? I’d probably come back as a cat or a revolutionary.

20. Where would you like to live? A brownstone in New York or just somewhere my family outside of my siblings could find me.

21. Most treasured possession? My headphones and my flash poster. Can’t survive without waking up to see Barry Allen in his flash outfit or having only the ringing in my ears to keep me occupied.

22. What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery? Seeing no way out of a bad situation and resigning yourself to it. Been there, done that.

23. What is your favorite occupation? ASL translators because at some point I will go deaf and I still want to be understood. Plus Sign Language is pretty amazing.

24. Most marked characteristic? Ironically, my voice. I’ve been told that I have a beautiful singing voice. I hate it because I sound like I’m going through puberty still but it’s apparently endearing?

25. What do you most value in your friends? Compassion and understanding.

26. Favorite writers? Hugo, Charles Dickens, Jane Austen, Rick Riordan, and Gail Carson Levine.

27. Hero of fiction? A toss up between General Organa, Enjolras, Percy Jackson, and Magnus Chase.

28. Historical figure you most identify with? Hoo boy, woman wise, Eliza Schuyler, man wise, Shakespeare.

29. Real life heroes? Anyone who successfully gets out of a toxic/abusive environment, activists, and survivors in general.

30. Favorite names? Jean, Ryan, Lucia, Josh, Eleanor, Margarita, Jimmy, and Michael.

31. What do you most dislike? Oppression of any kind, and that extends to abuse, child, spousal, or otherwise.

32. Greatest regret? Not applying to UChicago and SVA like I wanted to just because my parents couldn’t afford it.

33. How would you like to die? I wanna go down in a fight or go in my sleep.

34. What’s your motto? Punch a bigot, Wear your heart on your sleeve, love who you love, and never let them take the light behind your eyes.

[northeastern-deirdredunham]

#tbt

I wanted to shake things up for a little bit and talk about something that isn’t college or even high school related. That’s right, I’m kicking it back to middle school.

First of all, if you’re in middle school and you’re reading my blog, you are 170x more prepared for college than I ever was. 

I recently made a few friend who is 14 and in 8th grade (let’s not think about that age difference, it makes me feel too old).

I would never have guessed she was in 8th grade when I first met her, she hangs out with 20+ year olds and seems to have a deeper view on life than I ever did at that age. I keep wanting to impart advice on her, but I know she doesn’t need or want it. For some reason, I feel like imparting this advice makes me seem like a doting mother bird.

So instead of parting my middle school advice on her, I want to impart it here. Share it with those you know who are growing up, and maybe you can even find some past validation or agreement in what I have to say.

1. Eighth grade sucked.

Like honestly, raise your hand if 8th grade sucked for you.

I realize this is more of a personal thing, but most people if prompted will probably pick a year from middle school to say was their “worst year”. Biologically, this makes sense (thanks puberty), and if you just had a breeze though it all, then I applaud you.

But let’s look at this from a scientific angle. I mentioned puberty, and right around the ages of 13/14 is when it sets in. Suddenly girls and boys don’t have cooties and they have something else, something you can’t quite identify. There’s a tendency in this uncertainty to act petty to try to be cool. (once again, a disclaimer, this is from my experience and it may not be the same for everyone).

Here’s a secret, at this age and for the rest of your life, there is no such thing as “cool”. Cool is subjective and everyone has a different definition. My cool would be getting up dressed as super heroes and running around a public area stopping petty crimes (wait, is that not your definition?). In some instances not conforming to some nonexistent standard is social destruction. But if you can handle that explosion, pave the path for other people to realize there is no such thing as “cool” and break the molds. I’m sure the right people will come to you.

2. Read the book before you have to

I’ve always found when told to do something, doing that thing is the last thing you want to do. 

“Clean your room”

“No”

*a few days later when bored* “I’m going to clean my room!”

Like, right? I’ve found the same pertains to school assignments. If you are asked to read a book for class, you are so much more likely to not enjoy it than if you read it on your own. An authority figure has asked you to do a task and you have to discuss it and actually associate work with it? Unheard of.

If you know things like books that you will have as school assignments, read them before anyone ever tells you to (*note that I am not telling you to do this either). I read the Scarlet Letter the summer before I read it for school and I’m pretty sure I was the only person in the class who enjoyed the book. Then, when you are assigned the book, reread it. It will go twice as fast and you’ll get twice as much. Suddenly everything will be a breeze.

I feel like this could be applied to life somehow, but this is the most “practical” thing on my advice list.

3. Don’t count your friends before they’ve hatched

Things that I didn’t learn until college: Friends change and that’s okay. 

Let’s refer back to point #1, people can be petty and it’s great when you can define your own “cool”. With this being said, if people have different definitions of what’s cool, you’re sure to change your friends somewhere along the line. And as human nature would have it, you might change as well (I’ve written a lot about change before, so I won’t go into that now). More change means more friends and so on and so forth.

A BFF doesn’t need to be “forever” forever, just the immediate future forever. Enjoy your immediate friendships and cherish them. And if something were to happen and you parted ways, know that another amazing friendship could be waiting around the corner.

And you really never know when people come in and out of your life. My best friend from elementary school - middle school and I didn’t talk all through high school; there was no falling out, we just went different ways. Over winter break now in our third year in college we got in touch again and had lunch and caught up. And I can still say she’s one of the nicest people I have known and it’s clear that she still cares about me...and really, isn’t that what a friend is?

That being said, PLEASE lean on your friends. They care and want to help. Sometimes a parent, teacher, or even therapist could be a better option but friends are real swell too. I offered to my new 8th grade friend that if she ever needs milkshakes or ice cream, I’m here for her. I hope that one day she can take me up on that offer.

4. Get involved and ask for help

When did Deirdre learn that it was okay to ask a teacher for extra help: 12th grade.

When did Deirdre learn that it wasn’t lame to join a club: Freshman year of college.

What the heck, Deirdre. You were so behind the times.

If you are confused on a subject in school or are reviving poor grades, you are NOT dumb for asking a teacher for help. You are NOT dumb for getting tutoring. You are NOT dumb for not scoring as high as everyone in the class. Please remember this, because it took me until senior year of high school to learn these things. Don’t waste your time on that learning curve.

The hardest thing for a human to do is admit they are wrong, and in a similar vain it’s hard to admit you don’t know something. I personally struggle to know what I don’t know, but there are plenty of resources to help you figure that out. I swear you will make a teachers day if you ask a question- their job is to teach, not drone on and on to a class.

And similarly, with clubs, WOW I was self conscious. Either I did’t like the people in a certain club so I never gave it a chance or I didn’t want people to know I liked something. First off, if the people in the club like the same thing as you, there’s a good chance you’ll get along. And secondly, we’re back to number 1 and defining your own cool. If you like knitting, go find the other people that have defined this new cool for you. Anyone who doesn’t agree is making the choice not bother you, and secret number two is that later in life no one will care. No one cared when I admitted I liked anime and cosplay, and some people even told me it was cool.

What an amazing world we live in.

5. A teenager is not an adult

This is quite possibly the most important thing on my list. No one is asking what you want to do with the rest of their life yet (well, maybe they are, but ignore them).

Explore your interests as they come and follow them until (and only if until) they become boring. No one can tell you to do something that you don’t like yet. It’s okay not to know what to do with the rest of forever. Honestly, most adults don’t even know the answer to that eternal question.

Figure out what makes you happy, figure out what relieves your stress. Learn more and keep yourself inspired. Do the things that make you happy and forget the rest. While the rest of forever is a long time, you don’t have time to get hung up on the things you don’t enjoy and that don’t matter.

Those things you don’t enjoy can be anything from an activity, to a subject, to a person. It’s okay to dislike something and not factor it into your future plans. 

And it’s okay to break or crack every now and then. Maybe endure tomorrow, but realize that things will get better if you take steps to make them better. You will grow and you will discover more about yourself with every passing day. There is absolutely no need to do something that you don’t like.

So 14 year old Deirdre? You didn’t have to change the way you dressed because one girl laughed at your long flowy skirt in the hallway- long skirts are the bomb and being a cellist taught you that. You didn’t have to try to save your friendships with the toxic people that were stabbing your back, they weren’t worth your friendship anyway. You should have treated the people that held you dear better rather than trying to push the pettiness you were treated with onto them. You didn’t have to bear the stress of classes alone and I wish you had realized that getting help was not a sign of stupidity sooner. You were more for realizing when you needed to ask for help. 

All the trials and tribulations I had back in middle school (and high school) shaped me into the person I am today. I am confident, strong, and ready to fight. I know who I am as a person, but try to stay open to learning more about myself. I love my friends and can’t believe how much I trust them and I can only hope they trust me the same. I know my limits, and I always strive to do my best. I do what makes me happy and know when enough is enough.

You will stumble along the way, my advice is from my personal experiences and you will need to gain your own personal experiences too. But know that I am here for ice cream or milkshakes whenever life gets tough, always.

Have any questions about Maple Avenue Middle School, college, or life in general? Message me on this blog or email me at

dunham.de@husky.neu.edu

Until next time, stay pawsome!

-D

[kaitlinmcduffie]

Purity

THE CHRISTIAN LIFE IS NOT, AND CANNOT BE, ONLY ABOUT SEXUAL PURITY.

I have been wrestling with this concept ever since I left college. After exiting the bubble known as a Christ-centered, liberal arts university, I began to wonder why the focus of being a good Christian was so often narrowly focused only on our sexuality. Though I value virginity, I think that it is often glorified over more or equally important principles by which we should be living our lives for Christ. That “more or equally important principle” is what I want to focus on in this post today regarding holiness and sexuality. 
 I was taught growing up that sex outside of marriage was the worst sin I could commit. But, if I saved sex for marriage, my wedding night would be mind-blowingly awesome and what would follow would be true wedded bliss. The idea made sense to me; I loved Jesus, therefore I would be sexually pure at all costs. I committed to “True Love Waits” when I was 13, refused to date in high school, and wore a purity ring from the time I was 17 till I got married. I met a great guy when I was 18, fell in love, dated him all four years of college, and got married 6 months and two weeks after graduating. 
 So, on the one hand, “true love waits” worked for me; I held my virginity in a vise grip and made it to marriage. But, on the other hand, there was a gap in my theology. I was so focused on that finish line (marriage) that I didn’t stop to consider why I was striving so hard for it. Or, for that matter, why any of us young Christian men and women were fighting for our purity with such a vengeance. We all understand on a theoretical level that there is more to life than sex. And yet we are over-infatuated with the idea of saving ourselves and holding out for “the One.” Let’s be honest: How many young people would wait for love if they knew it wasn’t coming during or right after college? We think of “true love waits” as that time period between puberty and the end of our undergraduate degree. That is the timeframe in which we all think about and strive for sexual purity. But, as statistics are proving, that timeframe is getting longer as the years go by. Waiting on true love sometimes takes forever, never happens, or isn’t a possibility. 
 Please don’t misunderstand me: I think saving sex for marriage is a biblical principle and certainly an important concept to teach young people. But it should not be the framework by which we judge our worthiness before Christ or the Church. Single people are not less than married people because they don’t get sex; people who have saved themselves for marriage are not better than those who have done it prior to marriage. We are so much more than our sexuality; we are heart, mind, and body. So why do we pour all our energy into “saving ourselves” (or feeling shame for not) when we should be concentrating on something else entirely, a principle which encompasses our whole being? And here’s the contrast I want to present: 
 THE CHRISTIAN LIFE IS NOT ABOUT SEXUAL PURITY; RATHER, THE CHRISTIAN LIFE IS ABOUT HOLINESS.

You see, when we pursue holiness, we are trying to be more like Christ. And what was Christ like? He loved sinners. He healed the sick. He listened to the hurting. He fed the hungry. He spoke truths to people who would not listen. He walked for miles so that He could spread the message of salvation. He was homeless. He was celibate. He prayed daily. He resisted temptation. He chastised the prideful. He warned people of the consequences of their poor choices. He relied on God for His strength. He wept over His losses and His trials. He was beaten and killed so that we might be saved. 
 When I peruse this list, fifteen out of sixteen of these items have nothing to do with sexual purity. In fact, Christ’s focus was living His entire life before God with holiness. This involved caring for people, acting selflessly, speaking the truth, refusing to give into sin of any kind (which did include abstaining from sex), and being in sync with God’s will and Word. Christ did all of these things not for Himself but for His Father, because He wanted to please Him. 
 If sexual purity is taught as “true love waits,” the finish line is marriage and our prize is sex. It is self-righteousness or self-indulgence which drives us. With holiness, the finish line is heaven and our prize is being in God’s presence for eternity. Therefore, we surrender to God throughout our entire life in acts of selflessness, love, and truth because we love Him more than ourselves. And that has very little to do with how many boys you’ve kissed, how many girls you’ve slept with, or if you’ve chastely girdled yourself till the wedding night. It’s about having a pure heart (seeking God) and pure religion (taking care of the helpless). 
 So instead of focusing on the preservation of our virginity, let’s strive to be holy as Christ is. Because holiness before God is a lifetime commitment, one that stretches beyond pubescent urges, college dating, and thirty year old singleness. Rather than sprinting towards marriage as a way to purely satisfy our bodily urges, let’s take that lifelong journey with Christ, allowing Him to guide our every step, whether that ends in celibacy or wedded bliss. Because sexual purity is not the endgame…being like Jesus is.

[esoteric-paradox-blog]

#MeToo

Trigger Warning: sexual assault & molestation

Let's get personal, and not in a fun way. I'm about to share some things that I don't like to talk about, but I'm going to anyway. Why? Because I want other women to know they aren't alone. And I want men to know that their behavior is something that can impact someone's life forever, so they should think before they act. And please spare me the "not all men narrative." I am addressing every single man right now, and as a survivor of assault, I have every right to do so.

The first time I was assaulted I was 6 years old. I was at a sleep over at my best friend's house. While I slept next to them on their living room floor, A Bug's Life flashing on the television screen, their father molester me. I was 6 years old. I had no idea what had just happened, but I knew it was wrong. I knew I was supposed to stay quiet, not that I would have even known what to say had I felt like I was able. I didn't have the language to tell anyone what happened at 6, sexual terms not on my comprehension level or in my vocabulary. This person stayed in my life for the next 5 years. While it never happened again, I never forgot it.

When I was 12, puberty took hold full throttle. I was already in a C cup bra and my hips reflected the curves of a full grown woman. That's when I got catcalled for the first time. I was hanging Halloween decorations outside with my parents when a truck full of men rode by, hooting and hollering at the 12 year old body I was just growing into and trying to understand. I asked my mom why those guys were yelling and she said sometimes, men yelled out their windows at women they thought were attractive, trying to make me feel as if I should be flattered that these grown ass men were admiring the body of a 12 year old.

When I was 13, I finally told someone what happened when I was 6. I told my best friend at the time. She told me she had been molested as a child too. It was all starting to make sense now, and I didn't feel so alone. I decided to tell my parents now that I had found my voice all these years later. Both of them remained stoic, saying how they had no idea. No apologies or compassion shown. I'm sure they were just in too much shock, but a hug would have been nice. They never contacted the authorities. It was never mentioned again except for my mother telling me years later she hung out with him and his wife and I "would be very pleased" because the man who had molested me at 6 years old was "in poor health and miserable."

2 years later I was 15. Hormones raging, inhibition a foreign concept. I found a person I thought I was in love with. I wasn't really, but at 15, anyone who shows you attention and has a handsome face loves you, right? He was 20 years old. I was 15. I lost my virginity to this man. What did he have in common with a 15 year old at that stage in his life? I guess that his hormones were also raging, inhibition not being in his vocabulary either. He treated me very poorly - threatened me, told me I wasn't allowed to have male friends, gave me drugs to manipulate me.

I went to a concert with this boyfriend and had my behind pinched by a grown man. No one noticed but me, and I kept it that way. After all, with his firey temper, it would surely be a bad idea to tell him, probably even be my fault somehow. I was 15 years old.

Once that relationship ended, I jumped into another one - this time with a 25 year old. I was still 15. Today, as I write this, I am 25 years old myself. I can not possibly imagine being sexually attracted to a 15 year old child. At the time, I felt so special; all these older men were attracted to me because I was mature for my age, right? He used to get me drunk then take pictures of me once I fell asleep. He once told me to be quiet when we had sex in his apartment. I thought maybe he just wasn't into noisy girls. He also used to always take a bath directly after sex, often times asking me to join. I thought he was being romantic. He was washing away the evidence.

Fast forward to 17, I finally found a boy my age. All the girls wanted him, and I felt so special that he chose me. My family loved him, so much that they let me take him on our family vacation and my aunt sold him her old car. His ex girlfriend reached out to me one day and told me to he careful - he had tried to rape her when they were together. But they were still friends, weren't they? And wasn't she known for being promiscuous? She must be jealous. It had to be a ploy to break us up so she could have him back. After all, she wasn't even wearing underwear at that Halloween party we were at the other night. One day, Mr. Perfect Boyfriend cheated on me. A stranger told me in school - they worked together at a fast food joint, she knew I was his girlfriend and she felt obligated to tell me. She saw him hook up with a coworker in a cooler the other night. I invited him over later that day and confronted him, told him I wasn't sure what I was going to do yet but he was definitely in the dog house until I decided. He didn't like that remark. He pinned me down on my bed, holding my hands down at the wrists with one hand, his other hand desperately trying to rip off my pants. My adrenalin kicked in full throttle and I maganed to kick him off of me. He landed on my bedroom floor and I ran outside. Once I caught my breath, I came back in and he was still there, crying and apologizing, making weird excuses that he blacked out and he had mental health issues and couldn't control his actions. I was 17 years old. I didn't know what was true and what was false, how to feel, what to trust.

At 22, I landed a job I loved as a caregiver in a group home. There was a coworker that I often relieved from his shift or would relieve me who was 40 years old. He seemed nice enough, and we fell into conversation easily. We never worked the same shift, as it was a single person job, but he would often linger to talk, and I didn't mind. What was the harm, right? Isn't it good to have a good rapport with coworkers? He then started buying me random gifts. Strange, sure, but maybe he was just a generous guy. There are still good people left in the world, right? It made me feel uncomfortable that he gave me things, it seeming out of place. But how do you say no without offending someone? I didn't want him to think I was unappreciative, so I let it go. After all, he knew I was engaged - I talked about my fiance all the time. He couldn't mean any harm, right? This then transpired into him wanting to hang out outside of work and take me places. He claimed he got tickets to events for free because he owned a record label and he was offering to take me because he knew I would enjoy it. I didn't think there was any harm in hanging out with a coworker outside of work. People went out for drinks after work together, yes? This would be similar, surely. We hung out a few times and then something uncalled for happened. One night, he tried to kiss me on the clock. I told him he needed to leave and that was uncalled for, and he did. He tried to act normal after that, but it wasn't, and I let him know. Not long after, he snuck in without me knowing while I was asleep at work. All of a sudden, I felt him laying next to me on the couch, holding me, his manhood pressed firmly against my leg. I was scared beyond belief, a cold running through me that froze my movements. I was paralyzed. I didn't know what he was going to do to me. Eventually he ended up leaving. I don't know what changed his mind, but I was lucky that night. After that I told him we were no longer friends. He had a wife and there was no reason for him to be trying anything with me, he could go home to her. The next few nights, he broke into my work again, crying, begging me to forgive him and be his friend, insisting he had never crossed any lines and that was what friends did. I screamed at him each time, ordering him to leave and he would refuse. This was my nightmare at work, repeating itself nightly, this man I was afraid of badgering me while I was trying to do my job. I was too scared to call the authorities, so eventually I tearfully confided in my other coworker what was happening. They reported it for me, but unfortunately, I was not believed. This predator spun a story that we were messing around and things went south, me being bitter about it. I was removed from my position and reassigned somewhere else. Me, not him. I was 22 years old. I was an adult, wasn't I supposed to be able to handle these things easily and know what to do? And weren't people suppose to believe the victim, not the predator? 3 years later and this man still attempts to call and text my phone. I still do not feel safe.

Today, I am 25. I am engaged to a man I have been with for almost 6 years. Never has he made me feel unsafe in any capacity. He is my age, a few months younger actually. We have a son together who is almost 2. I am proud that he has a father that is such a good role model. I plan to raise my son to prioritize the safety of women and treat them as his equals. I am a loud and proud feminist, as is my fiance. Hopefully my son will follow in our footsteps.

Writing this was extremely uncomfortable, but I am glad I have done so. Never do I want men to think it is okay to terrorize women. Never do I want a woman or girl to feel ostracized because of experiences beyond her control.

#metoo