I Almost Did it Again

Exciting things are happening here in the Land of Serendip. People are sharing my stories and following me online (in a good way, not a creepy way. As far as I know.) They’re reaching out to me to write articles for them. Some of them even pay—real money! One of my pretend careers is occasionally making me tiny amounts of real money!! This is very exciting.

They always want a bio from me and even though I have a few already written up, it seems like I have to keep crafting new ones to fit in a certain space limit or edit it so that it’s more appropriate for that particular publication/production.

Gina is a wife and mother. Yawn.

Gina hates writing about herself in the third person.

Gina believes that children are our future.

Gina cracks herself up and occasionally some other people, too.

Gina really needs to figure out what the hell she’s going to make for dinner.

Come on now! Bob the Builder is almost over which means the bus is coming soon which means you won’t be able to get back to this until tomorrow. Settle down.

Gina  is her computer tech husband’s worst client. She is, however, pretty good at writing, acting, crafting and cooking. She blogs about their three transracial adoptions, attempts at maintaining an open adoption after foster care, her own sexual assault survival and the daily shenanigans of a large creative family.

I like it. But then that stupid voice comes back—“That description of my blog sounds weird. Maybe I shouldn’t say anything about sexual assault survival. It just seems so out of place.”

Shit.

I did it again, didn’t I?

I tried to shut down my own voice.

Let’s have a little reality check here: part of the reason saying I’m a sexual assault survivor seems so out of place is because PEOPLE DON’T TALK ABOUT IT. And because people don’t talk about it, people don’t believe it’s as widespread as it is. Statistics appear to be inflated, funding for services may be reduced. Because people don’t talk about it, I lived 21 years thinking I did not know a single person who had been sexually abused or assaulted.

Now I’ve lost count of how many survivors I know. Most of them tell me privately, in confidence, and I understand why they keep their silence. For some of them, it was an acquaintance rape and healing is complicated by feelings of unfounded guilt or shame. For some of them, the perpetrator was a trusted family member and healing is complicated by familial relationships and lies told them as children about whose fault it actually was. For some of them, their healing hasn’t even begun, though the crime may be decades old.

So I tell them, “I promise I won’t tell your secret” and they tell me, “Thank you for being one of the strong ones.”

So the line about surviving stays in. Maybe it does seem a little out of place, but it really is something that I write about, and frequently. It really is part of what defines me, and I’m not going to start denying it now. If I need to remind myself why I do it, all I have to do is reference this again: http://www.sisterserendip.com/2013/04/why-cant-i-just-shut-up.html

Yes, I am still going to keep talking about this. I am going to continue to be one of the strong ones. Apparently I just need to keep reminding myself of that.