Creepy men...

While arriving at work everyday I have been greeted by the creepy cleaning man. How do I know he's creepy?

You know that stare that some men give. The stare that screams, ooooo baby come to papa. Yah, that stare. This man has checked me out from yards and yards away. Staring at me while I'm walking towards the building (the entire time). Uh Hello....I can see you, you fuck. This guy's a bit different in that he actually utters some friendly words (unlike the real assholes who stare women down and howl at them).

He finally gathered his balls and introduced himself to me the other day. I like friendly people who actually take the time to get to know you a bit, rather than googling at you. Only, this is when it turned weird. He asked what I am studying this summer (I work at the college and do research there). I told him. Then went on my way.

Later that day I see him again. No surprise there. He always seems to be on a smoke break. Again, from yards and yards away, he stares. He even re-adjusts himself into that 'cool guy' position (probably unaware that I am smart enough to recognize his foolishness). He proceeds to ask me if we can do lunch sometime. Ummm, no. You're probably 45 years old and you work here. I'm a 22 year old student. Not gonna happen buddy. But I avoided the question. Why in the hell don't I have the freaking ovaries to say, "uh, don't you think that's inappropriate?"

Instead I say that I'm not going to be around. He says, I'll come find you next semester. I laugh...you gotta be kidding.

I hate that I can be so strong, so blunt, so straightforward. But when it comes to these creeps I freeze. What the hell? I'm smart enough to recognize these creeps, but too timid to hold my own.

I've since avoided entering the building near the smoke break table. I shouldn't have to do this. But I am.

Another Moment

I had a moment. The moment that forced me to want to make a change. These moments come and go. I often make changes after these moments, until I gradually fall back into my lovely little hiding place. One of my biggest moments was after Angela Shelton came to the area. I refused to work more than one job this summer and I promised to get back into my old routine of working out. I worked one job, volunteered as a Rape Crisis Advocate and designed and implimented my own research study. Working out has been sporadic. Why can't I stay committed? Well that's easy...too much pain came rushing forward.

So I had another moment. This week I had the chance to see how some police officers treat victims during their 'investigation.' I can't go into detail. What is important is that it made me sick to see the level of insensitivity that still exists in law enforcement. (not all of them are assholes, but that is said with hope. I've only ever seen the assholes). Anyway, it made me sick. It was a moment. A moment that forced me to commit to another change.

I've been advised by many to get into Yoga or some kind of energy work that teaches you how to center your mind, body, and breathing. I've been considering it, putting it off because of the lack of money. However, after this interview, I splurged. I went out and bought a video on Power Yoga. I'm considering investing in the Yoga Journal magazine to learn more about it. I'm committing to it.

The video says to view the whole tape in full before trying it. So I did. I attempted to do some of the poses to see what it is like. It was odd. I focused on my breathing. Inhale..........Exhale.........Inhale...........Exhale. Wow. You would not believe the power behind that moment. I immediately had tears in my eyes. For the first time in over a month, I slowed myself down, emotions pushed through.

Following the video I read through the yoga journal. It was so peaceful. I was exhausted. So I went to bed. That two minutes of Yoga helped me relax. I can't wait to do the whole video!

I hope this moment that I just had, this burst of energy to make a change, will last this time. It's so hard to make it last. Up and down. Up and down. Round and Round. Stop the damn spinning Alisha!

First loves...

First loves...it's said you never forget your first love. How do you move on? How do you love again? For me, the energy it takes and the trust it takes to put into a relationship before I open up...comes once in a lifetime. And that already happened. How do I do it again?

I recently saw my ex's parents. These are people I grew up with. We were neighbors from when I was age 5 till about 11. I'm still very close with the family. I was so excited to see them that I literally was shaking...nervous/excited shaking. They would be the perfect in-laws. Not only that...everything about them, the way they talk, laugh, every mannerism, reminds me of him. *sigh*

It's pretty much drilled in our heads that you most likely never stay with your first love (or what you think is your first love) but you never forget them either. It's a unique kind of love. You remember everything good about the person. From their smell to the texture of their skin. From their eyes, nose, and hands to every shape of their muscles and crease in their skin. Sensual....

I'm pretty sure I know the answer. You can't truly love someone until you love yourself. Or at least that's what they say. I believe it. To an extent. I loved my ex whole heartedly...but I was soooo far from loving myself at the time. If only he were here now...as I'm healing. Would it have lasted if it started now? *breathe* Who knows??

How do you love yourself completely when a part of what you would love about yourself is having the ability to fall in love...again. Do you fall in love again and then love the fact that you were able to do so....thus transfering that energy into loving yourself, working on yourself? Or do you love yourself, heal yourself, work on yourself...and then have the ability to fall in love again? I'm assuming the latter is the correct answer...and the most dismal.

Blog Carnival for survivors!! Check it out.

Marj has been working very hard to put together a blog carnival against child abuse. Please take some time to view the submissions. Blog Carnival.

Marj, I'd like to thank you for putting time into organizing everyone's blogs. Knowing that we're all out there, breathing, talking, writing, surviving, is very heartwarming. Empowering. Thank you.


I'm off to visit mom for the weekend :) and to move half of my stuff home. I'm getting ready to head out to california for the semester. Talk about paving new pathways. I'm excited.

A good day

I had a great day today. I decided the last night that I was going to work out this morning. So I did. Don't get too excited...it took me a month of planning to get up to actually do it. First time I've worked out in a month. I miss it. I hate a great day afterward. Fully of energy. I wasn't tired at work. I wasn't even tired when I came home. Huh, I should do that more often.

Then I drew a picture. While thinking of my mother (the second pic). It's pretty cool. I'm proud of it.

A couple weeks ago I drew another one that was for my sister (the first pic). Just happens to represent what I think so many survivors go through.

I realized while trying to draw again tonight that it is so much harder to do something for myself. To express my own feelings. I can express how I feel about others or how I think others feel. But not myself.

Aside from that, today was an exceptionally good day. I could go for another day like this.

Various levels of support...

I just returned from a funfilled weekend at the 12th Annual University of Buffalo Ronald E. McNair Conference. I'm in this program called McNair that is dedicated to preparing undergraduate minority and underprivileged students for graduate work. In doing so, we receive training for the GRE's the application process and numerous other things that we students may have never thought to ask about. In order to be in the program you are paired up with a mentor to conduct research, which prepares us for graduate level work. It's amazing. I came to the program after a professor I was researching with sent me to apply. My life has taken a complete 180 since then. This weekend we were able to present our research in a professional setting, further preparing us for graduate school.

All of the students in the program are 1st generation college students of minority cultures and/or economically underprivileged college students. The atmosphere is insane, with all the students sharing their passions, visions, and stories of their past. I got to know the people in my program at Brockport really well. There was one individual in particular that stuck out to me. He is very perceptive and worldy, offering interesting perspectives on the world we live in.

He just happened to strike up conversation with me, trying to figure out my background. Apparantly I send a vibe. He said he noticed me in the McNair office on campus and picked up the sense that I have had a rough life. He said he went to one of our directors and said something to this effect, "There's something about her...I can see it in her face..."

He proceeded to tell me of all of the obstacles he has had to overcome. I think he was trying to make me feel more comfortable with him so he can figure out what has happened with me. He's a great guy. I think he was trying to tell me that he is supportive and here to listen.

But I froze. I know that in this particular environment I can be real with people and they won't judge. I felt like I should share my story with him. But I couldn't. It was surprisingly painful. We got into a conversation about my father after discussing how oblivious I was to the men around me. Apparantly a few people noticed that men would be checking me out or engaging in conversation, yet I had no idea what was going on. I tuned it out. huh. I was shocked and even more shocked after realizing my oblivion.

We continued our conversation and I slipped in that I don't have a relationship with my father. He assumes that's why I'm stand-offish with men. Haha. Close. If only he knew what my real issues are. I kept thinking this while we were talking. Yet, like I said, I was surprisingly mute. This is particularly out of the ordinary considering that I was there presenting on my research that is based around Rape Crisis Services. During the presentation I openly identified as a survivor, which elicited "coming out" stories from the audience. Yet throughout this converstion I could not bring myself to say, "you're close, but my real issues with men stem from my sexual abuse and the sexual abuse of many of my loved ones. Hell, I even have pedophiles in my family. How can you trust men after all that????" But I didn't. I sat silent.

I left the converstation feeling thrown off. Here's a guy who is really nice, really open, trustworthy, honorable, and supportive. And I blew him off. (blew him off in converstation, he wasn't trying to pick me up or anything). I left feeling sad that I give the vibe that my life is troubled. The pain in my eyes is apparant to outsiders. Huh. That really makes you think. I try not to make my pain overt. I try to make it look like I'm okay. But it's there. Always. People know. If they don't know they probably just think I'm a bitch (I have a tendency to get cranky every once in awhile).

I guess the moral of this story is, deal with your pain. You may be able to lie to yourself, but you can't lie to others. They see it no matter how hard you try to hide it. So face it. Don't run away. When people offer a supportive environment to express your pain, take advantage. Build networks of support. Crying does not make you vulnerable. It shows your strength.

Now, if only I could take my own advice.

Hello again...

I just received a comment from Leah saying, 'where've you been?' Thanks for checkin on me Leah. My internet at home has actually been on the fritz for about a month now. The only access I have to the internet is at work, but I obviously cannot focus on my blogging as much as I would want to while there. I miss writing everday and there are so many situations I've encountered that have made me think..."I have to remember this to write in my blog."

Right now I am in Niagara Falls for a conference focused on research I am doing, hence my access to the internet. The level of support here is amazing and I can't wait to share my interests.

Gotta run now but I hope everyone is keepin' on keepin' on!

Cry when you are sad...

I recently read that the Buddhist religion says to smile when you are happy, cry when you are sad, feel your deepest feelings when you are lonely and so on. Cry when you are sad...huh. I haven't tried that. Feel your feelings when you are lonely. Haven't tried that either.

Well, I've tried to an extent. But not enough. I'm still pushing everything away. Blocking out my true feelings. It's so hard.

But I'm trying.

Art is for everyone :)

So excited at the moment. At the beginning of the summer I moved in with an artistic person. I was thrilled. I've needed direction or support on how to go about starting up art. I've been trying to think of what I loved to do as a child, drawing was one of them. I quite before I was able to get really good, but it has been something I wish I stuck with.

So when I moved in with the roomie, we planned on shopping for art supplies that could get me started. BUT we have been unable to until yesterday. That's why I'm so excited today. We went shopping last night.

I bought a sketch pad and soft pastels. I realized while shopping for supplies how important it is to really pay attention to what you feel and what you want. It starts with shopping, not with drawing. That's why I picked soft pastels, I was feelin' it. haha.

Then when we got home, I whipped out my new supplies and started doodling, to see how the chalk works. This is when it became quite useful to have an artsy person for a roommate. She explained that I really need to just make my mind go blank when I want to draw. Creating something involves really paying attention to how you feel. What colors you feel like using. What type of line or circle or tree or whatever do you feel like drawing. That's funny. What perfect training for me to pay attention to what I am really feeling, forcing me to address my issues. I need that. I've developed a habit of pushing my feelings to the back of my mind, so training myself to go blank and pay attention is perfect.

The roomie explained it perfectly. She said, this could be therapeutic for me simply b/c I have an issue with constantly being in control of myself, being busy, focused, with a schedule. Forcing myself to start with a blank slate, without having a picture in mind when I start, requires to me lose a bit of control. Working on a whim. Going with the flow. No plan in sight.

I'm thrilled. I'm hoping that drawing will help me allow me to develop new ways of expressing myself. Learning how to pay attention is the first step. I'll include a picture when I get better.

You know, I've always told people that I'm not creative, innovative, or artistic. I'm starting to realize that everyone is (or can be). When I used to think of art, I thought of it as these beautiful, famous paintings. I realize now that art is so much more than that. Art is what you make it. Maybe I can be creative. Maybe I can be artsy. I just have to find the type of art that I like.

Damn roadrunner

My internet at home is not working...booooo. I was bummed b/c I'm not able to use the internet to blog. I need to blog sometimes...gets my stress out. I'm at work right now, so I don't have time to write. Hopefully we'll get the net fixed soon. I've got lots to tell. Maybe I'll keep my own journal and then submit a post when I get to work or something. We'll see.