The "Girl Who Was Kidnapped"

I was watching a video on Facebook (I know, I know) in which Elizabeth Smart said that during her abduction she couldn't believe that someone could be that evil. That when presented with the fact that she would be consummating a marriage she didn't consent to, and had not been aware was even going to happen she couldn't believe He really meant it. THIS is a problem. If you are so focused on getting your children to feel safe, and happy that you have neglected to teach them that there is REAL evil in the world; shame on you. I have walked away from the darkest underbelly of the universe. I have seen the evil she saw. I have absolutely no qualms in telling my children, as young as they are, that there are tricky people out there who want to hurt them. Who want to do unspeakable things to them. I am trying to keep them safe, and I am trying to help them learn to keep themselves safe. . . But those people exist. Every time we talk about the good in the world it has been prefaced with the evil. I refuse to let my children grow up believing that evil exists someplace outside of our world. That it "won't happen here". That that type of thing happens to other people, and not to us. I wish that I could find the video and quote her exactly on this point. It's a crucial moment in her story. It's so important. People focus on all these other details. The things that were used in the case, the things that people did to find her, the reasons she was targeted. While these are indeed instrumental parts of the story they are not what I would consider a crucial detail. I consider it a pivotal, and crucial part of her story that she could not believe that anyone could be that evil. Meaning, in her 12yr old mind, the most evil people were portrayed in history books and far off places. I'm not against protecting children from horrible situations. I would not recommend exposing them to things that are not age appropriate, but you can prepare them for the idea that evil is not a world away, or something that exists in the past. They can understand that tricky people want to hurt them without having to know the gory, unsettling details. I just struggle to understand how a child of 12 can go through life not knowing that people are THAT evil. That they exist today, now, in this moment. They exist in our neighborhoods. They exist in our homes sometimes. They walk past our schools, shopping centers, and homes. They seem like normal people, and they seem like the crazy person who makes you think twice while walking to your car. You can NOT ignore the fact that to truly prepare your child to be the good in the world they MUST know that the evil is real. It is knocking on their door. The only defense is to recognize it so you can stand against it. Children prepared for the world around them don't just have a degree, or creative problem solving skills. They can see the evil of the world, and have the courage to stand against it. To do good deeds, and act when evil would swallow them whole.

Hot Chai and Chocolate Croissants

I've spent a good portion if my life trying to make a name for myself. Which has always really bothered me. I have a name. My mother gave it to me at birth. It's written on a certificate that's got a Washington state seal on it. So why do I care how people use that name? Why do I feel like that name is not name enough? And why, instead of declaring that we want a reputation for ourselves, do we request the option of "making a name for ourselves"? What's the difference in the long term if no one remembers you? Why does the idea of flying through life on someone else's coat tails unacceptable? What makes someone who is a "self-made man" so much better than the man who wisely used a predecessors reputation? I pose this as the argument in favor of the self made man. Do you know your place? I don't. I've never belonged. My family said I was weird. My friends left me and did mean things to me because my brother died. My church peers couldn't stand me because I was "the teachers pet"( actually I just paid attention). My boss thinks I'm expendable and totally replaceable. My teachers found me overly inquisitive and annoyingly curious. My co-workers see me as a know-it-all who is better left alone. My in-laws.... Well, we already know that they find me less than amazing, and we all LOVE being compared to the ex-girlfriend. So where do I belong? Where is my island of misfit toys to call home? What's my place in life? Will I ever find a niché? What is the purpose of me being here on this earth?! See. . . It's hard to not have a name. To not know your place. Some of us have been so long without a place that we'll accept any that is given. I spent 6 years in an emotionally and physically abusive relationship because it was a place. If I was there than my name, my place was his punching bag. It wasn't a nice home, but it was mine. It wasn't the right one, but it was mine. I've seen more than one person walk away from what they COULD have become because they couldn't get anyone to reassign their place. Sometimes we have the fight within us to be great. We don't have the permission to belong. There is such a sense of loss, of chaos, of utter and total despair! You have nothing. No home, no name, no place, no label, no direction, no end, no beginning. There is nothing in your life that will feel like it fits. It's like walking around in someone else's skin; Only you can't give it back, or exchange it, or even grow into it, or ever fit! you change, and it just changes too! NEVER fitting properly.All in all it is one of the most annoying situations to be in. You never stop feeling depressed, or hurt. You always feel lonely. People accuse you of being short, curt, sassy, or withdrawn. They tell you that if you'd just "try and be more friendly. get to know people" it would be better. Problem is that there's nothing about you to get to know. You have nothing to offer because you don't, by social definitions, exist. You are not His ex-girlfriend, and you never will be. You're not the pretty smiling dutifully graceful woman she is. You wouldn't know how to be that passive if you tried. And it's not like you're intentionally trying to confront people, you're simply being honest. You're doing your best to make sure that you are clear, direct, and concise as possible. To avoid the long awkward conversation they don't really want to be having with you anyway. It always backfires. And reality sets in... you will never have a home. So how do you deal with people like that? I'd be grateful for a place. A role in life in which I can be the best at whatever it is I'm supposed to be good at. Sometimes, simply having someone look at me and accept the truth as it leaves my lips is wonderful. Being able to simply give you the best description I happen to have is relieving. It's also nice when people dont take it so personally. So my life is no fairy tale. Accept that my reality is far more harsh than yours, but that I have come from a very dark place to the bright light of day through a LONG arduous journey that, despite almost killing me, has left me with both a very literal view as well as a fantastical one. Not an excuse, just an explanation. I just get really tired of not belonging anywhere. I just want to find my home and not have to leave. Not have to be judged, or explain myself. I just want to be loved, and appreciated for what I have to offer. To have someone acknowledge the value in what I'm doing, or saying. To know that the hard work I do day in and day out means something to the world. That it hasn't all been for naught. But isn't that what we all want?

And It Begins

So aparently You are not allowed to have a facebook account and not have a blog... Not really sure how I feel about that, but here goes. A BLOG, I am most disapointed. I expected some sort of mystical thing to happen. Way to be a let down.

Once upon a time there was a little girl. She was very independent, and learned quickly. She was able to do the right thing regardless of what others were telling her to do. She defended people who weren't popular and thought everyone was good. One day someone called her by a name she'd never heard before. They told her she was wierd even though she really wasn't. She suddenly realized that no one wanted to be her friend. That she wasn't being invited to parties. That when the other kids went outside to play they either left her out, or made her pretend to be the bad guy so they could beat up on her. She got very tired of this. Everyone told her she was wierd anyway, why not actually BE wierd. So she started doing things that were a little more odd and a little more odd. Pretty soon she really truely WAS wierd.
As the years passed people grew and started asking her why she was still so wierd, and hadn't grown out of it like everyone else. They still called her wierd. No one wanted her to change really. They love to put her down and insult her while she was trying to help and do good things. She moved away. Years passed and no one really saw her anymore. People heard about the things she was up to, but no one knew for sure. They never bothered to visit. She decided it might be a good idea to go home, and just see if things were as different as her Mother kept telling her they were.
Nothing had changed. She gave everything she had to the people who had been mean to her. She tried to show that she had grown and learned from the world. She showed all the new skills she'd discovered and the talents within herself. Suddenly the old insults came flying back. She was hurt. In an attempt to recover she went to a place she thought was safe. The people there had always been so accepting. They also possessed this 'wierdness' that she had had once. She was devistated and taken aback by the fact that these people would also call her the mean names she had heard long ago, and had created so much hurt. That word. . . That horrible word was spoken. with the "wierd" out of the bag she packed HER bags and left. It was clear no one understood. She left and went back to the world, which had embraced her 'wierdness' and made her feel accepted. They didn't seem to care out there. She determined she would probably not come home again. She had found a place where she belonged and there she would stay.