So many things happening right now! Today I'm spending some time finalizing things for the Rise of the Phoenix Healing Support Group - agenda, rules, goals, etc. Hopefully I'll be able to finish planning our first lesson/ discussion this weekend, also. We start in just a hair over two weeks!! After dreaming of this for 6 years - I can't believe how incredibly FAST it has all come together. 

This morning I manned (womaned) the booth for the Sexual Assault Center at the Buffalo Wellness Expo. Truthfully, I was kind of dreading it even though I had volunteered myself.

• I'm not an outgoing person. Huge introvert here!
• I hate small talk with people I don't know.
• I was going alone.

And the biggest reason..... people avoid anything relating to sexual assault or abuse like the plague. It's like having a booth where you give away free STD's - no one is going to visit it. I had just set up the booth when one of the administrators for the Expo came over and explained that our booth was one of the places visitors had to stop to receive a stamp in order to be entered in the drawing for the iPad mini.

 I giggled a little. Ha! You will all HAVE to acknowledge this issue today! 

Then she gave me my stamp. It was a Giraffe! My favorite animal - next to the goat. It was like a sign. A sign that I was in the exact spot where I was supposed to be today. For four hours I watched people as they started down the aisle where I was located. Some of them would make eye contact with me.....and then see the sign on the tablecloth. They looked as if they had just witnessed their parents having sex and quickly moved on only to realize I held one of the keys they needed to unlock the golden egg. They would return, almost shamefully, and ask in their most polite voice for a stamp. I would oblige, of course, with a huge smile. Ha! Gotcha! 

I actually had two people - 1 male and 1 female- make jokes. 

"Hey! I haven't been sexually assaulted in years. Where do I sign up?!" 

"I was told at one of the other booths that I can get sexually assaulted for free at your booth." 

I felt like punching them both in the throat but I managed to refrain. If they had ever been a victim of sexual violence or had a loved one who had been - rape jokes would not be funny to them. But this is how our society is. Rape jokes are 'funny'. Sexual assault is the victim's fault. Sexual abuse should not be talked about because it is shameful. Hello, People! Educate yourselves. 

This subject needs discussed because the silence and jokes only hide the issue and destroy lives. 

Others, surprisingly, were not in avoidance mode and walked straight up to the booth to grab fliers, ask about our services and support groups. I became choked up on more than one occasion when person after person came up to me and thanked me for what I was doing. 

"My daughter is a Survivor." 

"I work with several kids who use these services."

"I am a Survivor. I know this too well."

"I've never needed these services and don't know what it is like but there is more of this out there than anyone knows. Thank you." 

I don't do what I do to get recognition. Anyone who truly knows me knows that it makes me uncomfortable to be in the spotlight. I do this because I lived the shame, pain and fear. I made it through the darkness and want to help others find their way. But today it felt good to hear Thank You so many times. Every time someone said those words to me I heard a still, small voice inside say, "You belong right here. This is your path." 

This past week, I've received confirmation after confirmation that I am exactly where I am supposed to be. That every step I've taken to get here has served its purpose. That each decision I've made has been the right one. Even the painful and negative (in some people's minds) decision to cut my parents and siblings out of my life has been reaffirmed to me this past week. It never ceases to amaze me that God knows the exact time we need to hear things. 

I feel a shift happening. A shaking off of all things painful, negative and oppressive that have hung over my head for so long. There is this ball of energy I feel deep within my soul that feels as if its about to burst and I can't wait to see what emerges! 

It is amazing to me that in this information age and with so many groups and resources available to us, that many people still speak about things using their opinions as fact. Why someone would rather show their stupidity and biases instead of gathering facts is beyond me. This kind of ignorance can't be tolerated anymore.

One of the issues people like to talk about and make judgements about but make no effort to learn about is cutting. My daughter cut for several years. At first, it scared me to death. I had no idea what was wrong or why she was doing it. The sight of those bright red lines on her arms and legs made me nauseous every time I caught a glimpse of them. That wasn't too often because she (like most cutters) hid them under long sleeves and pants. Even in hot weather.

It started about two years after her depression started. At that time, we had no idea she had depression, either, just that something was wrong. She was slowly slipping farther and farther down into a deep, dark pit and didn't know how to reach out for help or even why she hurt so bad inside. One of the boys in her class "burned" a picture with an eraser on her hand and for a minute her internal pain disappeared. She went home that night and gave herself her first cut. She said feeling the pain of the cut and seeing the blood took the pain from inside and placed it on the outside where she could see it and deal with it. It gave her a high like she'd never felt. She became addicted to it. Addicted to the adrenalin rush she got from it. The deeper her depression got, the longer and deeper her cuts became.

All of this was so hard for me to understand until I got an information packet from the doctor. As I read through it, I came to a section on other forms of self-injury. One of these methods was burning. I felt as if I'd been slammed into a brick wall. All these years later and a memory came crashing back into my head. I'd been sexually abused as a child for many years. I remember starting in my junior year of high school (about a year after the abuse stopped) I began burning myself with cigarette lighters. I remember the unbearable, intense pain I felt inside that I just couldn't deal with. When I'd burn my wrists, arms, and legs the pain inside was drowned out. I, too, had an amazing rush of good feelings when I'd burn. I became addicted. My heart would race and I'd feel so high.

Suddenly, I completely understood my daughter when she'd tell my why she cut. And finally I was validated by doctors and psychiatrists that assured me I wasn't to blame for her cutting or depression.

I've posted 2 links below for those of you that are just in the dark and want to know more so that maybe you could be of help to someone. Teenagers aren't the only ones that cut. Adults do it, too. Depression strikes teenagers and adults. You could be the person that holds out a life line to someone in need. You could possibly save a life.

For those of you that make judgments on the parents that have children who cut or have depression ~ these links are especially for you. If you want to remain uneducated, then PLEASE don't talk about issues you refuse to learn about. It makes you look ignorant and you are doing a terrible disservice to the people you come into contact with that are crying out for help and you can't see it because of your self-righteousness.

http://www.webmd.com/mental-health/features/cutting-self-harm-signs-treatment?page=4

http://www.helpguide.org/mental/depression_teen.htm