dayoneny

[dayoneny]

[drawing of a dark blue sloth on a branch saying “I can reach my goals, and I will even if it takes time.” in a blue speech bubble.]

[dayoneny]

It is not your fault.

There are also shelters and organizations there to help as well. There is always a helping hand waiting for you whenever you are ready.

I was in an abusive relationship

-He made me think it was my fault.

-He said I didn’t love him.

-He said he would kill himself if I didn’t seend pictures of me naked.

-He used an app to receive my messages and read my conversation with my friends.

-He stalked on my Facebook to know what I’m doing every single moment of my day.

-He didn’t wanted me to have male friends (even knowing I consider them as brothers)

-He said he’d kill me if I don’t do what he wanted.

-He said I ruined his life.

-He made me belive that I was the abusive one.

-He made me want to kill myself.

-He made me try to kill myself.

People out there PLEASE DON’T THINK IT’S YOU FAULT.

PLEASE DON’T THINK HE’LL (OR SHE) WILL CHANGE.

DON’T LET IT GOT TO A POINT TILL YOU KILL YOURSELF OR HE/SHE DOES.

PLEASE ASK FOR HELP. GO TO THE POLICE. GO TO YOUR FAMILY. YOU NEIGHBORHOODS. ANYONE YOU THINK WILL HELP YOU.

[dayoneny]

Feel free to express yourself. You are not alone. 

Open letter to the man who couldn’t love me.

Dear you, Today, for the first time since we broke up, I cried. It’s not because I miss you. It’s not because I still love you. It’s not even because everything finally came crashing in. It’s been over a year since I fell out of love with you. No. Today I cried because I finally felt the damage you did to me, and I realized that everything that happened was not my fault.  I cried hard. My head hurt and my heart hurt and everything hurt because I finally felt relief. The anxiety of feeling like I wasn’t good enough, trying to figure out what I did wrong and why I wasn’t good enough for your love? The years I wasted trying to be enough for you, I finally realized I was good enough for you. You just couldn’t see that. We were so young, so how could you have? Sure, you told me you loved me. And we loved each other. And I believed it all. But you didn’t love me the way I needed you to. You didn’t put me first. You chose any and everything before us. You didn’t want to spend quality time with me. You didn’t kiss me good night. You didn’t tell me you loved me daily. You wanted nothing to do with building a future together. You expected me to do all of the work. You yelled at me whenever I messed up. I cried and you wouldn’t comfort me. You grew angry with me easily. You made sure to point out my flaws and not let me forget they were there. You made me feel like no one would ever love me like you did.

I threw my whole self into our relationship only to be dropped on my face, desperately clinging onto us and trying to put the pieces together as they shattered. I wanted it to work; I truly wanted it to work. I had imagined a life for us full of laughing, crying, joy and sorrow as we navigated growing old together. I saw us having children and having pets and living in a house working our asses off for everything we ever wanted. But somewhere along the way, we lost track of who we were and we never recovered. I tried to fix you while I tried to fix myself and ended up losing in the end. I didn’t just lose the man I was in love with, but I lost my best friend as well. And even though I didn’t cry the day I left you, I spent many nights crying myself to sleep trying to find the solace I found that morning when I packed my things and left.

So today, I cried. Because I found a man who loves me the way I need to be loved. Someone who has become my best friend and who believes I am too good for him. Although most days, I think he is too good for me. And I finally realize what it means to be in a healthy relationship with someone who loves me the way I feel I deserve. I cried because I finally know what love is supposed to feel like and it hit me like a train. This letter is meant to thank you. Thank you for all the lonely nights. Thank you for the emotional abuse. Thank you for all the broken promises. Thank you for the cancelled dates. Thank you for never being there for me. Thank you for pushing me to fight for my happiness, because without this experience, I would have never ended up where I am today, which is on my own, building a name and a life for myself and being stronger than I was when I was with you. You helped me realized my worth and that I deserved more than you were equipped to give me. I met someone who gives me everything you couldn’t. You set me free and I’m a better person after having been with you.

[dayoneny]

…because I love you…

[dayoneny]

We will always be here if you need help or feel unsafe. 

Abusive relationships don’t seem abusive 100% of the time.

Just because they’ve got good moments doesn’t mean that the abuse is any less real.

Edit: I would also like to clarify that this is about any kind of relationship. This applies to anyone in an abusive situation with any person whether it be friendship, sexual relations, family relations, co-worker relations, peers, neighbors, acquaintances, teachers, students, etc… Abuse comes in many forms, but organized into three categories. Mental, Emotional, and Physical abuse are all very real, and it’s very important to understand the warning signs and even more important to get out of the situation as safely and quickly as possible. Things to Remember: - Don’t be afraid to tell someone what you’re going through. Find someone to act as a safety net of sorts. Make sure it’s someone you trust, and someone you know can and will help you. - Have somewhere to go if you need to get away. Make sure to tell your ‘safety net’ what happened, and where you’re going. - If you’re financially dependent upon your abuser then start saving money up as soon as possible. If you’re planning on leaving you will need some funding to do so. (The easiest way to save money is to stop eating out. Sandwiches are simple enough to not need cooking skills, and the price of ingredients will fit nicely in your budget. Trust me I’ve done this myself.) - Most importantly, don’t go back. I know they’ll say they can change, but the terrifying reality is that abusers rarely change. I’m not saying they’re not capable of change, but please be cautious of reentering a toxic situation.

[dayoneny]

[dayoneny]

[dayoneny]

Healing from trauma is chaotic and messy. You are doing so much better than you think you are. You are not weak. I promise.

[dayoneny]

Dressed in a white lace gown and shining tiara placed gracefully amongst her fashioned dark hair, Gladys Ricart looked like a fairytale princess that had stepped right out of the pages of a storybook. It was September 26th, 1999 – her wedding day. Joy filled the air as people bustled around the New Jersey home that she shared with her son and mother. A line-up of nines bridesmaids giggled as they helped one another make final touches on for hair and makeup. Gladys beamed as she posed in her wedding dress. In just a short amount of time she would be meeting her fiancé, James Preston, at the Church on the Hill in Flushing, Queens of New York City to exchange their vows in front of all of their loved ones.

As excited people swarmed around the house, a man carrying a briefcase walked in. The man, presumed to be a guest as appeared to be dressed for the formal occasion, opened his briefcase and pulled out a .38-caliber handgun. Just as Gladys was finishing handing her bridesmaids their bouquets, she was shot three times. The house erupted into chaos. Panicked wedding guests sprinted in every direction without fully knowing the source of the gunshot. Gladys’ bridesmaids screamed as they sprinted out of the house and collapsed in grief on the front lawn. One of the flower girls shouted, “Don’t kill her! Don’t kill her!” while adults attempted to shield her, as well as the other little girls, from the violent scene. In an act of bravery the bride’s brother tackled the intruder and managed to disarm him. Using the man’s own gun, the brother held him in place until help arrived. Tragically, on what was supposed to be one of the happiest days of her life, Gladys Ricart passed away at the age of thirty-nine. All of this occurred as the wedding videographer’s camera was still recording.

The killer was Augustin Garcia, the victim’s ex-boyfriend. After a tumultuous six years, Ricart finally decided to put an end to their relationship. She had no intention of seeing her former lover again. Garcia, however, could never quite let go. In the months following the breakup, he relentlessly stalked Gladys. He would show up to Gladys’ house, and harass the woman by throwing rocks at her windows. One incident was so frightening that Ricart resorted to calling 911 for help. A week before the wedding Garcia left 100 roses on her front lawn in a final gesture to win her back, and when that did not work he made the decision Gladys Ricart’s life. After the trial, Augustin Garcia was found guilty of first degree murder. He was sentenced to life in prison.

Mourners flocked to attend the public wake. In life, she had been a strong pillar of her community, and was an active volunteer. It came as no surprise that this vibrant and beloved woman would draw a crowd for a final goodbye. Not everyone in attendance knew Gladys, but all were deeply touched by her story. The funeral was a private event held in the Dominican Republic, where Gladys was born. She was buried wearing her wedding dress and veil. The bridesmaids and groomsmen also wore their wedding attire to the service.

On September 26th, 2001 a young Dominican woman by the name of Josie Ashton traveled from Florida to New York City to express her outrage over the tragic wedding day murder and the media’s poor response to it. Donning a wedding gown and with Ricart’s family and friends, she marched through the streets of Queens with at her side until they reached the church where the wedding was supposed to take place two years ago. A photograph of a Gladys was pinned on the front of the dress as a reminder of not only what had been lost, but what was also at stake. Ashton continued her 1,600 mile trek until she finally made it back to her home in Florida. Through the years, one woman’s protest has grown into a nationwide event known as the “Bride’s March”. For 18 years in a row on September, 26th, thousands of women walk together in solidarity in protest against domestic violence against women. The protestors wear wedding dresses or white clothing in remembrance of Gladys Ricart. Many carry along with them photographs of loved ones they have lost to domestic violence.

On their official website the Bride’s March lists the three main goals of their mission. 1. To pay tribute to Gladys Ricart and to all of the battered women and other victims who have died as a result of domestic violence by holding an annual March on the anniversary of the death of Gladys Ricart, September 26; 2. To disseminate bilingual information on the issue of domestic violence to the Latino community and to provide information pertaining to the services available to victims and survivors; 3. To inspire on a national level, other communities to organize a similar March in their neighborhoods to be held on the anniversary of the death of Gladys Ricart, September 26, memorializing her and all others killed as a result of domestic violence.

For more information on current plans, as well as the history and accomplishments of the Bride’s March, please check out their website: http://www.bridesmarch.com/index.html

[dayoneny]

YOU are cute and YOU deserve cornbread

[dayoneny]

[dayoneny]

“More than 3 million women experienced rape as their first sexual encounter, according to a new study, which surveyed women ages 18 to 44 in the U.S. The study, published in JAMA Internal Medicine, found that most respondents were adolescents when they were raped. It also found that these women were more likely to suffer worse long-term health outcomes than women who had sex voluntarily the first time.

‘It’s quite alarming, and that’s just the tip of the iceberg because this study is only including women aged 18 to 44,’ says Dr. Laura Hawks, the main author of the new study and a research fellow at the Cambridge Health Alliance, a health care provider in Cambridge, Mass. 'You can imagine that if we asked this of women of all ages, the absolutely number would be many millions higher.’

Another reason this might be an underestimate, she adds, is that the data used in the study was collected before the #MeToo movement, which has led to more open conversations around sexual violence. 'More women may feel more comfortable identifying their experiences of sexual violence today than they did just a few years ago,’ she says.

Hawks and her team looked at data from an annual survey conducted by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, called the National Survey of Family Growth, that asks women ages 18 to 44 about their first sexual experience, whether it was voluntary and their age when they first had sex, among other questions. This is one of the few studies to look at the prevalence of rape as one’s first sexual experience at the national level in the United States.”

Read the full article here.

[dayoneny]

[Drawing of a jellyfish with a caption that says “It’s okay to have different boundaries with different people, and it’s okay to change boundaries over time, when you change, and/or when something changes in your life or in your relationship to someone.]

[dayoneny]

[dayoneny]

You deserve to have your boundaries respected.

[dayoneny]

Communication goes a long way. If you’re busy, say it. If you’re upset, express it. If you’re late, let people know. If you’re unsure, ask. It’s so simple but so important.

[dayoneny]