It's time for a little positive body talk. So here we go again.
I have a #RockingBody. I can stationary bike for 20 minutes without resistance. I only need one crutch to walk. I can sleep through the night. I can walk in the pool. My incisions are healing nicely. Today I drove a car. My body is the business. So don't mess.
Somebody delivered some mail for a person with the same apartment number but in a different building to me. Tonight I went on an excursion across the parking lot to take it back. I stopped on the way home to take a break. Because surgery.
I forgot how much I love summer nights. Fall nights. Whatever you want to consider tonigh. It's lovely.
Today I learned that convicted rapist, Brock Turner, who received an appallingly short sentence of six months in prison for his 3 felony count convictions of rape, was released after 3 months because of good behavior. (One per felony count). And then I learned about how Time reported it on Twitter.
As if poor swimmer Brock Turner went to jail for swimming instead of for raping a girl. As if it was just because they were drunk at a frat party and that that's what happens when two people drink at a party. The guy chooses to have sex with the girl whether she likes it or not, whether she knows it or not, whether she is conscious or not.
I responded to Time in similar fashion to multiple other twitter users, I think you meant, "Convicted rapist," not "Swimmer." Time has yet to change the headline.
It's probably not coincidence that today I'm listening to an audio book by Josh Sundquist. He describes this scene in which he and his college freshman buddy sneak into a frat party through a basement window. Everyone is grinding. He sees a girl he's hung out with a few times. She waves at him, so he decides he wants to dance with her. Not grinding per se, but real close. He walks up right next up to her and puts both of his hands on her waist to dance with her. She pulls back quickly and says, "Sorry. I just don't wanna dance like that." He then goes on for minutes (it's an audio book) about how it was so hurtful to him and how he can't believe how badly she rejected him. She tells him afterward, "Stay and dance with us." But he keeps going on and on about the rejection. He literally storms off and leaves the party.
I just want to say something. Why does he think that he can walk up to a girl he barely knows, who has literally done nothing but smile and wave at her, and invade her personal space in such a way? Why doesn't he step back and think, "Hey, maybe I just violated her boundaries and came on too strong?" It's all about how he can't believe she was so repulsed by him. Even though she said she just didn't want to dance like that. There is absolutely no thought of, "Maybe I shouldn't have done that." "Maybe I should apologize for making her uncomfortable." I'm not saying some girls would have been into that. But she wasn't. And that's okay. She handled it kindly. He could have responded in kind. She apologized, but he didn't.
The lack of insight into her feelings is much like Brock Turner's lack of thought about what his victim would want. Much like his lawyer and family all played it out like, "Well, she was drunk and she was at a frat party, so how could she not have wanted that. This is all just alcohol and frat parties and he's just such a nice guy." Why is it so hard for these guys to take a step back and just think, "Maybe I should have considered what she wanted and how uncomfortable I just made her." "Maybe I should say, 'sorry.'" Instead of playing it out like somehow they are the victims in these stories. A poor swimmer who had to go to jail and a poor guy who got rejected by a girl. It just makes me crazy. That's all.
My divorce was finalized today. It's a mixed bag of emotions. Last week when I learned that it was close, I started sobbing. I called my mom. She was supportive. And then she said something profound. "Remember when you used to cry like this every day?" And that's true. I cried like that multiple times a week until I moved out. The crying didn't stop completely when I moved, but it sure slowed down.
Today when I got the news, I didn't cry. I was glad to feel some relief. I sent a text to Janae telling her it was official with a fist emoji. She said, "fist like you want to punch some one or like pound it?" And it was more like pound it. Look. I made it out alive.
I managed to stave off tears listening to this song on repeat until I didn't want to hear it again.
She got me through breakups in college, so why not now?
Traci and Maizy brought me a BLT, which might sound surprising since I don't like bacon. But it's what I felt like eating today. And they chatted and lifted my spirits and it was just all in all nice to have some company.
And if nothing else I've learned, it's that there is something so liberating about going through a terrible experience, one that is so hard you aren't sure you'll make it through, and then coming out on the other side alive. Touch my arms, legs, torso...intact. I mean, definitely damaged a bit. But also more substantial. And knowing that the damage won't last forever. It's reassuring. It helps you believe in your own strength more than just about anything other than being able to bench press like 200 pounds. Which is basically impossible, so we take our strength where it comes. Even if it comes in struggle.