#and he full consented to have my brought up my moms religion

[alternativeulster]

does anyone else have a dad who will say things like "beyonce is a satanist and there's also a gang of satanists who ritually sacrifice babies in the woods by our house (in smalltown rural ireland)". and this is just something that you have to live with. because he will get extremely angry if you point out that thats a deranged thing to believe. and everybody around you knows its insane but enables it anyway because its easier than dealing with him angry. anybody else having this bizarre experience or is it just me

[stubbornattempt]

I don’t really know what’s happening or what is real. For the past 2 months I’ve been listening to a steady stream of John (and others) speaking directly into my head and the news from that source has not been reliable. Everything from me going to jail for stalking John, to a lie that I molested my niece, to the idea that there was a crowdfunding to hire a hit man to kill me, or that I would be killed in prison, to listening to John pretend to murder my mother (this happened like 5 or 6 different times) I’ve been pretty stressed. One time when he pretended to kill my mom he pretended to have sawed off her arms and legs and left her abandoned in a warehouse somewhere with only a phone call to me, and of course I couldn’t help her because I didn’t know where she was and the nurses disallowed me to use the phone for a while because I kept calling the police. I also thought that John had attacked him and sawed off his arms and legs, cut out his eyes, cut off his nose and ears, and his face and removed his tongue. I thought that he was talking to me through the chip as well as John for a long time. That’s why I tried to kill myself, because I thought he wanted me to kill myself before John could get to me. Even in his condition I didn’t leave him, but John orchestrated scenarios where he became hateful to me and didn’t want anything to do with me anymore. I thought that he was stuck without the ability to interact with the outside world and I thought that was a fate worse than death. I wanted desperately to help him kill himself but could do nothing. Now I think that none of that ever happened and that he is probably fine. I don’t know if he wants anything to do with me. John made a good case for him not ever caring about me. I’m a little confused about what he did also. I’ve been given information that I’ve been stalked with cameras for years, which is news to me. I also received information that basically everyone I’ve ever known is also being stalked with cameras. If that is true then I can’t forgive what he did. Anyway, I’m out now and I eventually came to believe that I was physically safe in the hospital, although for several weeks I thought that John could and would come onto the unit to kill me. He drugged a few of my meals so that I would pass out, presumably so I’d believe he would come abduct me, but I fought hard against it and did not pass out. Eventually I came to believe that I was safe in the hospital but now I’m out in the open and John could easily kill me. I also don’t know what the authorities think I knew about this thing but I don’t know if they’re targeting me as a conspirator or not. I’m pretty concerned but these are the circumstances I face. I want to write my whole story, from beginning to end and maybe I will. I wrote it a few different times in the hospital but John told me each time that he would kill my family members if I didn’t destroy what I’d written. He promised to kill all of them several times. I got TDO’d at the hospital so now I can’t buy a gun. I’ve turned to spirituality and think maybe there is a god out there. I don’t think I could subscribe to any known religions, but there might be a consciousness out there that is aware of our plights. I did some “Bible dipping” and had some synchronicity with what I happened to open to. Basically I started to believe in god for two reasons: one was that I felt I was exposed to pure evil, and that the opposite must exist and would be god. The other reason was that all the different voices that talked to me didn’t believe that I didn’t know what was going on with my celebrity online, and they refused to believe my side of things. I felt that I couldn’t be alone in the universe with my truth, that someone else must know the truth. So for now I think maybe God is watching out for me. I haven’t died yet. John would also be very horrible, saying things like if I ate my meal he would kill so and so. Or if I didn’t stand on one leg all night he would kill so and so. If I went to the bathroom again he would kill blank. It was super stressful. This past week I stopped hearing the voices in my head. I don’t know why. Maybe he has been arrested? Or maybe the medications I’m on are interfering with the chip? Obviously the doctors didn’t believe me one bit and even tried to give me an MRI which could have killed me, depending on where the chip is located in my brain. At first John said he drilled a hole in my skull but later he said he put it in my brain through my nose. I don’t know how to get it out but I think I’m gonna try to find a primary care doctor and see if I can get a CT. I really can’t see the cameras if there are any. I never have been able to. The only times I believed there were cameras was with John, both when I lived on Locust and when I lived with my sister and her boyfriend. I could never find those even with my RF detector and I hired a PI who couldn’t find them either. Maybe John broke back in and removed them. I went to the police about John, and later about him as well but they couldn’t do anything to help me. I spoke to Sergeant Russell Handy about both men. I presented evidence that I’d printed from online. I thought, almost towards the end of my year there, that there might be cameras in the place I lived with Tzvi, and that’s when I turned him in. I thought by turning him into the police that I was effectively severing our relationship. I was told through the chip that the camera surveillance continued as I moved on to various locations. I never thought there were cameras after that though, so if there were I was completely oblivious. I’ll detail my journey at another time. That’s enough typing for now. The chip has been thoroughly frightening, though. I would hear the thoughts of others directly in my head, and they could read all my thoughts and subthoughts that I didn’t even mean to think. Apparently they could see out of my eyes and they would comment on all my interactions with the staff and other patients. I fear that the knowledge of the chip shaped many of my thoughts to the point where I didn’t even know if thoughts were being implanted without my consent, they were so different from who I am and what I actually think. I had a terrifying nightmare about John stalking me to kill me brutally. He told me often that he was going to kill me and all my friends and family to remove any trace of me from the earth. He said if I let him kill me that he would make everyone else’s death less brutal and painful. He said things like he raped my mother with a baseball bat covered in barbed wire. He brought that one up a lot. Pretending to be him, he told me that he played a recording of his full name while he murdered people. He told me he was a prolific serial killer and that he kept trophies of all his kills on his computer. I don’t know if that’s true. He probably wouldn’t have told me if it were true. He told me he was going to cut off all my fat and make me eat it. He also said he would rip my heart out of my chest and make me eat it while it was still beating. And then he would throw me into acid while I was still alive. I believed all of this to be something that could happen and it still might. I think I’m going to have to adapt my sleep schedule around my mom’s work schedule because I don’t feel safe enough to sleep while I’m alone in the house. 

[ah17hh]

how to NOT do poly via /r/polyamory

how to NOT do poly

This is very long. My dysfunctional entrance into polyamory was a huge learning experience for me.

Summer of 2017, my marriage was crumbling. I was in denial about it, way too optimistic, and took full responsibility for my marriage alone. At the same time, one by one, my close girlfriends were all ravenously hitting on me. My underwear was soaked and busting at the seams but I went home to a dead bedroom. My therapist simply asked me when I was going to finally come out of the closet. I didn't realize I was in a closet, but when he asked me, something just clicked.

I wanted to take my newly out-of-the-closet self for a guilt free ride on the pussy highway. With my husband's consent to fuck around, I set up a Tinder account and swiped my tits off. A much younger lesbian was one of my many matches. We chatted, texted, made plans that I canceled a few times. She texted me pictures of her family, personal things. I just wanted sex so I didn't share anything personal back. She told me she just wanted sex too, but still sent me very personal things. After a few weeks, she downright demanded to meet me. I caved. She was really pretty and persistent is an understatement. My other matches would stop trying after a while, but she would not give up. I was scared to meet people. I was scared of rejection. I wasn’t happy with my weight at the time, and she was much younger, thin, and very out.

“Meet me Saturday night. My sister and my best friend will be out with me too.” It was my last chance, she told me later this was the last time she was going to push me to come out and see her. I walked up to the sidewalk and there she was talking to my friend, smoking a cigarette and decked out in young woman accessories, something I never quite understood how to accomplish. “Oh you smoke?” “Not anymore,” she thought. She put out her cigarette. We went into the bar. “Am I fatter in person?” I genuinely wanted to know.

The bar was getting packed. Someone tried to squeeze by my fat ass, so she pulled me toward her, her arm around the small of my back. Gay sparks flew off the charts. We danced until we couldn’t breathe and were covered with sweat. Shoes flew everywhere. I’m not exaggerating. We all had the fucking time of our lives together and it felt like I had found one of us out there when I thought my Squad Goals had already been fulfilled. “Come home with me.” She did. She ate me out on my couch and I came when her tongue and mouth weren’t even touching me. I came that easily and that hard on top of all the whiskey. She faked it, but years of vibrators had killed her clit. In my drunken haze and post-orgasm exhaustion, at 4:00 in the morning, I said, "Stay and spoon with me.” She did. I’d never cuddled with a woman before. It felt like magic. I’m not talking about the kind of magic that you see walking down a tourist area and a fat wrinkled magician wants to show you how to make a card appear in your pocket. I’m talking about the kind of magic people invented religion to explain. I’m talking about the kind of magic that Kelly Clarkson co-writes songs about. I’m talking about the kind of magic only two pussies can create together. It’s super gay and I see now why it’s illegal in some places. Just too fucking good.

My husband woke up two hours after we had fallen asleep to find us spooning on the couch. He stormed out incredibly angry. I was panicking. She was lingering in my apartment, just lounging in her underwear completely oblivious, and way too comfortable. I craved touch so much, I couldn't resist her, I never cleared it with my husband about anyone spending the night. While still in her underwear, trying desperately to look enticing and sexy, she told me her credit score was 750. I was extremely worried about my husband and very uncomfortable at how comfortable she was. My body had alarms going off everywhere but I just calmly dealt with her and told her I had to go about my day. I didn’t know why she was telling me her credit score. I don’t care about anyone’s credit score, except my own after it started out in a dumpster fire during my first marriage to a complete maniac. I told her I had to get on with my day. She left without showering to go to the pride parade with another partnered woman, and I went about my day.

Now I see how vulnerable I was and what a chameleon she was. She was changing herself on the first date to fit in with my family, she quit smoking, she presented herself as this put together sexpot. My marriage was on thin ice and my relationship with myself was lackluster to say the least. I was the perfect target for a narcissist.

She love-bombed me, my sister, and my best friend with accurate precision. She learned my weaknesses almost instantly and told me everything I had been wanting to hear my whole life - that I am attractive, talented, special. She validated me, paid me attention, and took on my identity. She started going to my hairdresser, went blonde when I went blonde, moved to my neighborhood from an hour away, got a job near my job, commuted to work with me, and threw herself at me sexually constantly. I could not resist the sex, I could not resist the attention. 11 years combined with distant men, and here is this gorgeous woman giving me everything. She learned how to make my sister laugh, and flirted heavily with my best friend who hasn't had a relationship in years.

I was enamored by her, she became irresistible to me, and I ignored how uncomfortable I was with her total lack of boundaries. I made excuses for her, that she was young and could grow out of it. I was terrified of my feelings. What does this mean for my marriage? This relationship I was getting completely swept away with woke my husband the fuck up. "Let's go to the sex toy store!" "Let's take a trip!" His fear of losing me made him snap out of taking me for granted. I was getting all the attention and validation from him. Our sex life took a drastic turn.

While I was falling in love with this woman and rekindling with my husband, I resisted her very much. I was scared to lose my marriage. I would tell her I couldn't be with her. It just made her pursue me harder, love-bomb me more. Finally, eight months into my relationship with her, we stayed at a hotel and slept through the night together for the first time. When I woke up and texted my husband good morning, I realized the world was still there. I felt more secure, like maybe this could be a thing. Maybe we can have two separate relationships after all.

She pushed and pushed and demanded that I stay the night with her more and more. She demanded I come out of the closet to my parents, my husband's mom, at work, and to my daughter. I did. I wasn't ready but I did. I was met with open arms and joy. I felt so much pressure from her no matter how much I told her I needed more time, she coldly demanded. Ultimately I am glad I am out now, but I wish I hadn't done it under such duress. But, I was already hooked and scared to lose her. She dangled leaving me constantly. I couldn't lose her, she brought so much excitement to my life. She brought so much energy to my sluggish existence. I am a very outgoing person by nature, but had turned into a couch potato. Being with this charming woman turned my city into a red carpet. All of my friends were ecstatic for me, my daughter could tell how incredibly happy I was.

I gave into the pressure. I started staying over at her place once or twice a week. She stayed by me a lot. When she stayed by me, I was not allowed to have sex with my husband. Sometimes she would stay five days at a time. I wanted to avoid her harshness, her mean coldness, her tantrums, and my husband didn't want to rock the boat either so we complied. I was growing very resentful of her controlling nature. I expressed my unhappiness but it fell on deaf ears and she would just throw herself at me or love-bomb me until I forgot temporarily.

A year and a half in, she disappeared emotionally. I didn't know what was going on at all. A mutual friend was a contestant on Rupaul's Drag Race, and while watching his instagram live video, I saw her in the front row with her hand on another woman's leg. This person I changed my entire life around to be with met someone else. And I found out in the most horrific way. She told me she had to meet someone because I wasn't nice to her anymore. I blamed myself for her cheating. I was so confused. Was it my fault? Why don't I like being around her yet I am terrified to lose her?

Looking back, I didn't even realize how mean and rotten she had gotten. All the charm she used in the beginning was gone, and our time together was tense and moody. All she could see was that I wasn't nice and she wanted attention so she met someone else. It happened so slowly, her charm running out, I didn't even notice. It's like she trained me to accept crumbs and abuse. My whole life trained me. Still, our sexual connection, and the rare fun moments kept us together.

Desperate to get that charming one back, I lavished her in gifts and trips. She'd always play that Bhad Bhabie song Gucci Flip Flops. I got her Gucci flip flops for Christmas. I just wanted that nice one back. She'd give me crumbs and I'd hang on every word. I was scared if I lost her, my husband would go distant, and I'd be alone with no one. I didn't want to lose either of them.

I finally told her that her negativity is impossible to be around. I finally told her I am not driving 100% of the time or paying for 100% of everything. I was sick of blowing up at her after she would bait me while having to foot the bill and do all the heavy lifting. She would post pictures on instagram to make me insecure and jealous. I would freak out at her. She loved it when I got mad. It was such a sick game.

I hated this angry person I had become. I told her I don't owe her my niceness just because we are technically together and if her answer is to cheat on me she can fucking leave. I begged her to stop baiting me and stop pushing my buttons. She actually heard me. She changed overnight, I think she wanted to do anything to get my love and attention. For a week she was pleasant, nice, she showered regularly. I couldn't keep my hands off of her. When she was positive and nice, my entire world was shining in the sun. A week later, she left without a word.

Eight days after she left me, we matched on Tinder. I got drunk at my sister's birthday party, and asked her to meet me for coffee. She asked if we could have lunch. She sat next to me at the table. I had no appetite so I didn't eat. She told me she was unhappy with the inequality, that I cared more about my husband from her perspective. I just listened and felt nothing. A week or two later she texted me and asked if me and my sister wanted to go out. My sister was done with her but I told her I could meet her. We had a drink. She looked absolutely haggard. We went to karaoke and she sang one of my all time favorite songs with more heart than I'd ever heard her sing before. It was 3am and I told her I had to go. We didn't kiss or touch at all at any of these meetings. She texted me when we were both in our ubers and asked me to come cuddle. I told her I couldn't. I asked her if she could come over next week. She said yes. In the light of day, she said she couldn't come by anymore.

Then she changed her number and I never heard from her again. She gave her number to my sister, so I put it in my phone and blocked it.

It's been two and a half months since the discard. I have been picking up the pieces, and seeing why I got so swept in this. Underneath all the dysfunction, I do believe the two of us did love each other at one point. I think her narcissism and my codependency were a match made in hell.

My husband and I are doing better than we ever have. We are on the same page for the first time about chores, finances, and we have sex every day. We talk about everything. We talk about poly, boundaries, how it should have gone, what we learned, and what we want in the future.

I know now I am extremely co-dependent. I am easily taken for granted because of this. I am a narcissist magnet. I am generous and I feel solely responsible for other peoples' lives, feelings, and my relationships. I have so much inner healing to do to feel whole and to get validation from within.

I met another woman and we are very slowly getting to know each other. She is independent, kind, ambitious, and I am not letting myself get too attached. I want to meet more people and decide who is best for me. I don't want to "test" people, but I am going to pay close attention to how people respond to boundaries and my needs. Already I am noticing such a stark difference with how narcissists react!

I fly to Miami tomorrow to tag along at this new woman's work conference. We are going out Saturday night, hanging at the beach Sunday, and I am spending Monday by myself in Miami. I haven't had sex with her yet because I am being cautious. I am using the trip to get away from the mess, be in the sunshine (it just snowed by me), and to have spontaneous fun. I do not want to jump into a serious thing at all, and she seems the same. She's never had a girlfriend and wants to take it slow too. My therapist helped me frame this by saying it's have sex and not get too attached right away. He said you can meet 10 people and having sex is how you get to know them and you may like 1 or 2. He said to frame the weekend as a "get to know you" trip and not to ask a million questions or divulge a million things, but you can get to know someone just by the way they are.

I have a good hold on myself after this learning experience and I am not going to let someone hurt me like that again. I don't know I've been grieving, healing, and reading a lot (and watching youtube videos) about narcissists and co-dependency. We are both textbook.

All in all though, we both amazingly left each other better than when we met. Her love-bombing and validation showed me how good I am and that I am attractive. I switched careers, lost weight, came out of my shell finally, and see that I am worthy of attention. My adoration showed her she is lovable and deserves unconditional love and a good life. She tripled her income, and grew up. I taught her the practical things of life and how to live in the city. I showed her acceptance and what family can be and I hope one day she does have one of her own. She showed me I am hot, interesting, funny, charming, generous and I deserve someone who is the same.

So now, I'm out as bi and poly to everyone in my life and at work. I can take my sweet time finding the right partner(s) for me. I can and will say no when I am uncomfortable. I am going to work on healing this codependency in me. I am never ignoring red flags again. I am loving myself the way I am while growing to be the best me possible. I am happy being out as bi and having a woman in my life, it makes me feel complete. But I am not going to pay for that happiness by giving too much of myself ever again.

Submitted November 01, 2019 at 08:18AM by shinebrightlike via reddit https://ift.tt/2C1CGvd

[thewritingpanda]

Free to Choose

Tell me what you see but don't tell me what to believe, otherwise you cannot say I am free to choose.

Every day is exactly the same at this hellhole they call college. I meet the same people, attend the same lectures, and when the clock ticks 4 I run to my car faster than Usain Bolt in the Olympics.

The rain drops started coming down the window, I could only see a glimpse of it from behind the blinders. The room was cold and silent, there was no sound other than that of the professor. It was a pretty boring lecture about media politics, all the students had already rested their heads down in despair waiting for the clock to tick 4. I was so bored I started counting rain drops and comparing them to the number of hairs on my head, such a great way to waste time. Usually, I would lose myself in deep thoughts but this was torture, the sudden interruptions were unbea... "You there, the one looking outside the window, can you tell me the 5th rule of media policy I just mentioned?". “Don't look Andy, there must be someone else looking outside.” I thought to myself. My friend nudged me "Dude, it's you!” Oh great! Maybe if I ignore him long enough it will be 4 already and we can all go home. "Well Mr. Andrew, go on I am waiting!" Lucky for me, I was my class’s top student, so I was smart enough to answer any generic question with just a hint. I turned my eyes to the board and read the word 'watchdogs', took a deep breath and then started answering. "Well sir, I believe we were talking about how we, as media people, should behave like watchdogs who are only concerned about the mass public. This should be done through complete transparency of news and telling the people the facts as they are, leaving the choice to them to decide how they feel about it, avoiding any biases in the process of course." I ended my answer with a slight head tilt. "Impressive, and here I was thinking you were a desperate romantic counting rain drops!" The class laughed out of courtesy. I was actually doing that so I just smiled and nodded. It stopped raining, but most importantly, it was 4. All students made their way outside the lecture hall, I left last to avoid being mushed up against the door.

That beautiful smell the rain leaves was overwhelming that day, it was as if the air was reborn without dust or pollutants. I took a deep breath and felt like everything I had in mind was washed away, well momentarily of course! The ground was full of mud puddles, I improvised a little dance to hop around and not step in any until I reached my car, just like when I used to play the floor is lava with my siblings and cousins. There it is, looking like a rally car in the rain, but it was only the looks. I hopped in my car, turned the key, longing for turning it again when I arrive home. The way home back then was full of bumps, it would be an interesting drive in the rain. I turned my music up and took off. "Metriiiiii!" I heard a familiar voice call my last name. It was one of my friends who would dedicate their whole life to help save animals around the world. She had two dogs that were her best friends because who needs humans and their blabbering. "Metri you have to help me!" She maintained her regular cool face but there was certain alertness in her tone. "Sure thing, what do you need?" I asked casually. "Well you see, I found this puppy right here in that box, his mother gave birth to him and ran away, I have waited and waited but she didn't come back!" It was the first time I noticed the box she held; it was a blue shoebox with holes in it. She continued "I can't take him home, but if you can take care of him till he grows up a little bit that would be great". I slid the lid of the box and the towel underneath it slowly, there he was, a little puppy born and abandoned without his consent to anything, cruel. "How can I say no to this?" I thought out loud, "Well, he is all yours champ!" She gave me the box and patted me on my shoulder with a smile, she knew she could count on me.

There was not time to stand and chit chat, I knew he was going to wake up hungry soon so I needed to get home and prepare his puppy formula. I put the box in the seat next to me and made sure it wouldn't budge with any bumps or anything. "Ready to go home, little one?" The puppy didn't reply, "Well then, I guess that is a yes!” The road took almost an hour, there were bumps, there were water holes, and it was a real life rally test for my car. Not to mention that midway, the puppy woke up and started squeaking for milk so I had to step on it to say the least.

I parked the car in the garage and ran upstairs, I didn't have time to fiddle with my keys so I rang the doorbell and hoped that mom would be watching TV or something. Sure enough, Mom opened the door "Don't you have keys?" she said in her usual sarcastic tone. Her eyes fell on the box as she heard the puppy squeak "Oh no no no, what have you done? Please tell me that is not a puppy". I shrugged "It is not a puppy?” I made my way to the kitchen as mom followed me "Where did you get this one from? The street?" by now our two dogs were all over me trying to sniff the box "Ummm yes!" I replied. We had an old puppy milk powder formula, I read the instructions and proceeded with the steps to prepare it. I told mom the story of the puppy while feeding him, "so you bring me home a puppy that his own mother abandoned? Are you his mother now?" This time her tone was condescending rather than the usual sarcastic one. "He didn't choose to be born nor abandoned, if I can give him a chance to live then so be it." Mom paused for a few seconds then added "Well, at least you’ll know how I felt raising you up." She said as she headed to her room.

It was the first night for Zalata ever in this world, that was the name my friends gave him. My twin sister and I took shifts feeding him; it is safe to say that it was not a very comfortable night. I remember waking up and feeding him with quite the headache and feeling joyful as he goes back to sleep. I pictured how my mom felt doing this with a twin, she just wanted a girl but got me as a 2 in 1 offer. I remember her telling me the story when I was younger "When they told me I was carrying twins, I cried" She would say, I had to live my whole life feeling like an unlucky mistake. What if we had a choice in whether we wanted to be born or not, take this little puppy for example, he is not even conscious and he would have suffered a horrible end all alone, without his choice, without his consent. My thoughts were interrupted by the sun light coming inside the room, it was already time to wake up and do the same exact thing again all over again even though I didn't get much sleep.

Zalata was officially 5 days old now, healthy and fit as ever. Even Vodka, our female dog, used to check on him regularly; animal kindness and compassion that most humans would never possess. I was having lunch with a friend of mine in a place near college, we were talking about life and what she wants to achieve and how she wants to achieve it, her talk was generic but her tone was full of passion; she didn't just say this randomly, she had been planning it, I could tell. "I wouldn't have known all these things without you, you have influence on people do you know that?" I smirked looking down "Well, it's like fireworks, I just light it up the fuse and watch the show". Our conversation was interrupted by the waiter who finally brought our food, I felt my mouth running just from the smell but when my eyes fell on it, well it was over in less than a minute. "That was some good food huh?" She said with a wide grin on her face "Good food, cheap prices, happy man!" I carried on "And woman of course, I am not sexist". I was counting money to pay when my phone buzzed on the table, it was my sister, she never texts unless something was up. "What is wrong Andy, what is up with that look?" I remember pausing for a while, my eyes started tearing up a little bit as I finally said "He is gone.... Zalata is gone".

My sister blamed herself while my mom said that he was abandoned because his mother knew he wouldn't survive. I had nothing to blame but cruel fate. I didn't sleep at all that night, but it wasn't because of the squeaking or noises Zalata made, he was gone. I was lost in my thoughts, how could a tiny innocent creature suffer a horrible end without getting a chance to live or choosing to go. What about humans? We are brought into this world without consent, we are given names for the rest of our lives in a country we did not choose, and worst of all, we’re assigned a religion and brought up on our parents’ beliefs and cultural norms. The ironic thing is that everyone says "You are free to do what you want" They never mention the "but" part. You love a person who is from another religion, you can't marry them because that's what God says, despite saying that we should love everyone. Oh you want to be a musician? But our culture and society will look at you as someone insignificant, you should become an engineer or a doctor. We are free, but we have so many rules and limitations that bind us and bring us down. We are free but they will tell us what to believe and who to love. I thought about how I was brought up, and how I was taught to love unconditionally. On that night I swore that I wouldn't live by anyone's rules, I am free to choose and believe whatever I see right and fitting. Throughout history, humans have created factions to separate themselves and create a sense of ‘us’ and ‘them’. The need to be right has created a huge gap between us, we fight wars in the name of religion and our countries when the real reason is greed and power. What has humanity come to? I chose to believe that there is no us and them; no one is right and no one is wrong. In the end we are all humans and we all come from the same God. I didn’t choose anything, but I chose then to become a citizen of the world and not one country, I believe in God and humanity, not a certain religion.

On the last couple of minutes before sun rise, I sat down in front of my window and took a deep breath just to let it all out afterwards. As the first light of the day started dawning, I freed my imagination…and imagined complete freedom.

[dorothydelgadillo]

The F Word: Nevertheless, She Parented

Welcome to The F Word, where we, Skillcrush staffers Lauren Lang and special guest Maren Vernon, discuss issues that impact all of us—both in and out of the workplace. We know that, for us, coming to understand the f-word (in this case, feminism), and how important it is in the scope of our lives, didn’t happen overnight. We hope you’ll join us once a month as we meet to discuss power, identity, and the changes we want to see in the world.

Lauren: Maren, welcome to the F-Word! It’s so great to be with you today chatting about the joys of feminist parenting—and specifically, motherhood.

Maren: Thanks, Lauren! I have my cup of coffee in hand. I’ve taken a deep breath. And I’m ready to jump in.

Lauren: With three kids (all girls) between us, you and I have some insight into what being a mom is really like. And man, it’s tough. I’m constantly running interference against mean kids at school, media messaging that disrespects women in any number of ways, and the little microaggressions that fly under the radar and become tiny, but growing, insecurities in my daughter’s spirit.

On the heels of Oprah’s AMAZING Golden Globes speech where she envisions a “new day on the horizon” where “nobody ever has to say ‘me too’ again,” this is the future parents also aspire to. But it can seem like an insurmountable task to shield our kids from the reality of the world in 2018. Where do we start?

Maren: I’m starting to think I should have brought wine to calm my nerves when I think of everything they are facing… But Oprah’s speech!

My gals are still young and just starting in school but my kids are not only girls but girls of color, and finding the line between preparing them and not scaring them is something my husband and I talk about a lot. I can tell you that an early way I’m trying to raise them to feel they can do anything and ignore the haters is through stories and good role modeling.

I used to work in publishing, so books will always be important in my house. I like to look for picture books—since that is the stage we are in—with strong, and ideally diverse, female characters using their smarts and creativity to problem solve, lead, or demonstrate kindness. I could name books all day but Pocket Full of Colors (about Mary Blair), Drum Dream Girl;I Am Truly; She Persisted; Ada Twist, Scientist; and Rosie Revere, Engineer spring to mind as particularly great examples.

Of course my struggle is that I want them to feel independent and in control of the course their life takes, buuuuuut I also need them to listen when I say, “Come on, dude, that is not a great idea.” So we find ways to negotiate and I let them take the lead when appropriate. Just yesterday my oldest snuck business cards out of my office to give to friends so they could get their moms to schedule playdates with me. I caught her with the cards as she headed into school, but I appreciated her pluck and determination and I let her move forward with her plan. How have you started introducing The F Word in your household?

Lauren: Okay, business cards? Genius.

I wholeheartedly agree with you about choosing media with strong depictions of women. My daughter loves the Rebel Girls book series, which features small vignettes and beautiful illustrations of notable women and girls throughout history who have exhibited strength and determination (including the women featured in Hidden Figures, which she loved). We talk openly about these women’s struggles and the discrimination they’ve worked to overcome—based on gender, yes, but also race or ethnicity or religion or age or ability or sexual orientation. These books have been a great resource both for empowering my daughter and also spurring deep discussions about her own privilege.

So media is important… BUT I agree that the best opportunity to introduce feminism—both to girls and to boys—is to teach the concept by example and model what feminism looks like. It looks like empowering and respecting our children, expecting them to respect others, and empowering them to speak up when they feel unsafe. It looks like mothers who have agency and confidence and it looks like fathers who understand consent and who listen. It looks like the world that Her Majesty Queen Oprah says that we want for our children.

And it benefits us as mothers to find what that looks like too, because SOCIETY HAS NOT GOTTEN THE MEMO. There is so much pressure on mothers to do everything right and to have perfectly behaved and brilliant children at all times, and to never, ever lose our patience. And so, feminist motherhood is just as much about how we as women consciously choose to construct ourselves as parents, by bucking those impossible standards and finding what works for us. Maren, there are so, so many ways to “fail” as a mother, to the extent that—SPOILER ALERT!—there is literally no way to “succeed.” So let’s get specific: What criticism do you face about your role as a parent?

Maren: I find external criticism most often comes in comments along the lines of, “Working and mothering and side hustles… You should give yourself a break. You are trying to do too much.” The implication is: You should focus more on being a mother.

Usually the things I love to do—that make me feel fulfilled outside of being a parent—are the first things I’m expected to cut out. Then that just leaves me grumpy and resentful. Does that make me a better parent? No.

I need the side hustle or the part-time job that keeps me intellectually curious. I have fun doing art projects with my kids or exploring the science museum, but I also need challenges and positive stress and to learn new things. (Let me take a moment to acknowledge my privilege that I even have some choices to make, and also to say that just like I don’t want to be judged for my choice, I’m not going to judge another’s path. I’m just acknowledging that wouldn’t be living as my authentic self.)

I started learning to code (with Skillcrush!) when my first was about a year old. I’d suffered from some postpartum depression and was generally feeling down about my abilities and intellect because parenting was a lot harder than I expected, and despite all the reading and prep, I didn’t feel like some things came as easy to me (and social media was NOT helping). I’m not lying when I say that learning to code gave me my confidence back. Maybe my kid didn’t sleep through the night last night and refused to eat the ten different foods I prepared but, hey! I got that image to float beside some text! I am good at something! It was the outlet and challenge I needed to get my mojo back. And you know what? When I felt better about myself, I know I became a mom who was more fun to be around. Losing your identity is no joke.

What criticisms have you faced as a parent, Lauren, and how have you dealt with it?

Lauren: There is SO much here that resonates with my experience, particularly in the idea that I have a right to make a choice to be a multidimensional human being whose existence is not fulfilled entirely by my child—and the notion that this choice is actually a positive thing for her to witness. THE HORROR: a mother who is also a person with interests and talents and—gasp—ambitions!

If I reveal myself to be stressed or anxious about ANYTHING in my life, you’re right—I receive unsolicited advice that the first thing to go should be what makes me happy. The message is clear: My career is a luxury, and any mission I value outside of motherhood is somehow deeply unfair to my daughter—even when, ironically, that mission is to create a world in which she is empowered and free.

So how have I dealt with it? I keep doing what brings me deep satisfaction. I try to tune out the noise and follow my true north. And in doing so, I show my child the best possible person I can be. I try my best, and sometimes I’m a shitty mom. (And sometimes I’m a shitty employee and sometimes I’m a shitty spouse and sometimes I’m shitty at keeping my shit together.) But I think I’m okay with that. Perfection is for Beyonce, and she has help. And speaking of support, what roles do you think male partners have in all this? Heterosexual coupling puts vastly differently expectations for how mothers and fathers interact with their children: a mom who takes her kid to the park is like the default while the dad who does the same is OMG THE BEST DAD EVER. Or a dad who slightly raises his voice to his kids is giving some “tough love” while a mom who does the same is a horrible person who should have her kids taken away. What do we take from this double standard?

Maren: I’m incredibly lucky to have a husband doesn’t expect me to fall in lockstep with gender roles, but at the moment he is the primary breadwinner and I am the lead parent. So by default I am expected to know what is going on with their schools and their friends and to volunteer for all the things and get the laundry done and have food in the house. And those efforts feel rarely acknowledged.

But just because I am the lead parent doesn’t change the fact that sometimes I want to spend an hour coding, rather than at the park with my children. And the fact that, when I think about doing something for me or for my career, I almost immediately consider it to be selfish—is problematic. I’m criticizing myself before anyone else has the chance to.

Lauren: YES. I think a lot of it comes down to the concept of “emotional labor,” right? This idea that women have to shoulder so much of the unseen knowledge and work to keep everything running smoothly—and a lot of that is learned behavior.

One way I’ve experimented with lessening the burden of all there is to do is just by…dropping some of it. (#badmomconfessions)

I’ve stopped monitoring whether there’s milk in the fridge or whether library books are in the backpack on library day at school. Practicing personal responsibility should come at an early age…and picking up a young able-bodied person’s dishes and transporting them to the dishwasher for her? Or picking out the perfect birthday gift for my husband’s mother, when he’s known her 20 years longer than I have? Nope! Ain’t nobody got time for that.

And it’s not that I would never do any of these things—I often have. I love my family. But it’s been a long unwinding of the expectation that I will, just because my ovaries make it so.

Maren: Are we long lost twins?! My anal-retentive nature will probably never let me forget how much toilet paper is in the house at any given time, but the house chores are gender neutral and everyone can pitch in in some way shape or form, big or little. Don’t like the chore I’ve offered you? Pitch me a compromise! My husband and I definitely do that. Never too early to practice those job skills, right?

Lauren: HA! Totally. Okay, Maren, last question! And this is a fun one. :) What is, to you, the absolute best part of being a parent? What did you never anticipate about having these little people in your life that has been delightful and surprising? For me, it’s been experiencing my daughter’s wicked sense of humor, which grows sharper and drier by the day. She’s only seven, and I can’t believe what she comes up with as it is—not to mention in 20 years when she has her own HBO stand-up special.

Maren: I love that! I think what has been fun for me is seeing the things they create out of seemingly nothing. It really is true that some buttons and a cardboard tube and some pencils and a mismatched sock can suddenly entertain them for an hour and is ten times more fun than anything I’d buy. I really just need to step back and get out of their way and let them have agency over the project (that includes letting them sort out their differences because I can’t always be there to fight their battles). It is so fascinating to watch how their minds work, and I’m often inspired by new ideas or challenged by them to step outside my comfort zone.

from Web Developers World https://skillcrush.com/2018/01/17/feminist-parenting-working-moms/

[jasminenoack]

“There are songs I’ll never listen to again but you can’t take all the thing that make me the way I’ve always been”(The Doubleclicks): The longest war

So I am going to talk some more about feminism. With some Rebecca Solnit quotes. 

“One girl raved about a nice voice mail a guy had recently left her. I kindly requested she play it and heard this gem: ‘Hey, Lydia. It’s Sam. Just calling to say what’s up. Gimme a ring when you get a chance.’ THAT WAS IT.” - Aziz Ansari

Okay so that’s a little bit of Aziz. But now on to more serious things. 

Here in the United States, where there is a reported rape every 6.2 minutes, and one in five women will be raped in her lifetime - Rebecca Solnit

I went out a bit ago with a guy. And he was complaining about there being way more women than men in New York City. Which appears to not actually be true... And I said something off hand about not noticing because to be honest I’m so busy trying to filter out creeps that the pool seems relatively small. And the response I got was that women being concerned about men was bull shit. Basically word for word. 

There is, however, a pattern of violence against women that’s broad and deep and horrific and incessantly overlooked. - Rebecca Solnit

I wasn’t attacking this guy in particular, in fact i was actively not talking about him. I was talking about refusing to give someone my name, which I’d given him. Which is something I do. I’m relatively easy to find if someone was trying, as you can see by this url I have a reasonably strong presence online. Not to mention that my profile on OkCupid says I’m a web developer and my first name and that career easily land you at my linkedin and a bit more research will get you my email, my phone number, and a slightly out of date address last time I checked. And I don’t really want step one of vetting someone to be “Here please have all of my personal information, and my picture”. 

There are exceptions: last summer someone wrote to me to describe a college class in which the students were asked what they do to stay safe from rape. The young women described the intricate ways they stayed alert, limited their access to the world, took precautions, and essentially thought about rape all the time (while the young men in the class, he added, gaped in astonishment). The chasm between their worlds had briefly and suddenly become visible. - Rebecca Solnit

Now I don’t want to misrepresent, I’m extremely lucky. Nothing truly terrible has happened to me. I get creeped out a lot. On the funny end, I got a message from a guy named “Mr. Goodbar” which I kind of wanted to reply to with “maybe google Looking for Mr Goodbar”. I get messages, FIRST MESSAGES, on OkCupid that say things like “Give me your address I’m coming over now”, but I’m smart enough not to. I also get pushy guys that after two messages ask to meet immediately to have sex, and are sometimes extremely pushy, which is why I tend to not give out personal details early in a conversation(a lot of men send their name in the first message). Basically, I’m extremely careful, but I am like that because I know what happens when you’re not. 

It offered advice like this: “Carry a whistle! If you are worried you might assault someone ‘by accident’ you can hand it to the person you are with, so they can call for help.” While funny, the piece points out something terrible: the usual guidelines in such situations put the full burden of prevention on potential victims, treating the violence as a given. You explain to me why colleges spend more time telling women how to survive predators than telling the other half of their students not to be predators. - Rebecca Solnit

When I was in junior high my friends mother left her abusive husband, well she tried to and he murdered her in front of my friend and her two younger brothers. I know this because she showed up at another friends house while I was there to ask us to call the police for her when it happened. 

Happily the five publicly pro-rape Republicans in the 2012 campaign all losttheir election bids. (Stephen Colbert tried to warn them that women had gotten the vote in 1920.)  But it’s not just a matter of the garbage they say (and the price they now pay).  Earlier this month, congressional Republicans refused to reauthorize the Violence Against Women Act, because they objected to the protection it gave immigrants, transgendered women, and Native American women.  - Rebecca Solnit

When I was 19 and home from college for a couple months a guy asked a friend if she was me and she told him she was meeting me(he knew my brother, ergo asking, at least that’s the story I was told). He followed us around for that whole day, then came home with us(he was 26) then informed me the next day we were dating. Over the course of the next 2-3 months I attempted to break up with him repeatedly, every time he would tell me I couldn’t do that without his consent. Then he would show up outside my house, outside my work, and in the small town I lived in, in the park where I met my friends. His cousin was my boss(who was so excited we were dating). So every time I had to go back to dating him. He told me that we weren’t allowed to spend a night apart, so I had to sleep with him every night, etc. I don’t want to get into it. My mom made fun of me for dating someone “stupid” but never stopped him from sleeping at our house. Neither did his parents who he lived with. I told my mom once I couldn’t get rid of him, and she laughed. I was terrified of losing my job. I was terrified that he was bigger than I was, and it was Maine, no one locks their doors, or windows, or cars. I dated him because it felt safer to know the rules then to see what he would do. I didn’t even break up with him in reality. I moved back to New York and stopped answering his calls. He threatened to “come to New York and find me” on a bunch of voice mails, but in New York I always felt like I was safe, 8 million people after all. And after a few months he stopped calling. 

Women’s liberation has often been portrayed as a movement intent on encroaching upon or taking power and privilege away from men, as though in some dismal zero-sum game, only one gender at a time could be free and powerful. But we are free together or slaves together. - Rebecca Solnit

When I was 15/16 there was this guy I knew he was 26 and had been in jail for statutory rape. Now when I was that age I was actually very religious. I had had one boyfriend and we hadn’t even gotten close to sex. My friends mother introduced him to us as someone her daughter might want to date, she knew his aunt or something. Her daughter wasn’t into it, so she decided to set me up with him. I thought he was cute, but he freaked me out. He called me from jail once to tell me he had beaten up a friend of mine who was also in jail. He use to sit on me, and hold me down, not in a explicit sexual way but it scared the shit out of me. One year on Christmas Eve I was at her house and he was there getting drunk. I learned later that someone had promised him they’d set me up with him that night. When I left around 1am to go home he followed me out to my truck, which honestly already made me uncomfortable. And when I went to get into it, he pushed me up against it and started aggressively making out with me. I had some difficulty stopping him, because 16 vs 26... I ended up kneeing him in the balls so I could get in my truck and drive away. I continued to see him for the next 2 years until I went away to college. This was not considered an issue by any of our mutual friends. 

We have far more than 87,000 rapes in this country every year, but each of them is invariably portrayed as an isolated incident.   - Rebecca Solnit

I moved out of my mother’s house halfway through my senior year of high school. I lived with my best friend, my ex-boyfriend, and 2 other male friends of theirs in a 1 bedroom apartment. As the only girl I slept in the room. But everyone used the entrance through my bedroom, no one ever knocked. When one of the “friends” would get drunk he would crawl into my bed in the middle of the night and start to “cuddle” me. I would pretend to be asleep as long as possible and hope he would fall asleep. If that didn’t work I would get out of bed and sit at the kitchen table and read a book until morning and just not sleep that night. 

What’s love got to do with it, asked Tina Turner, whose ex-husband Ike once said, “Yeah I hit her, but I didn't hit her more than the average guy beats his wife.”  - Rebecca Solnit

When I was around 14 my friend’s older brother would buy us beer. His parents knew and were fine with it. I found out when I was 19, from his mother, that the reason he did that was that he had a crush on me and was hitting on me, and she knew. Again he bought us beer so he was in fact 21. 

We have an abundance of rape and violence against women in this country and on this Earth, though it’s almost never treated as a civil rights or human rights issue, or a crisis, or even a pattern. Violence doesn’t have a race, a class, a religion, or a nationality, but it does have a gender.   - Rebecca Solnit

My ex-boyfriend who is generally a nice guy. One of his best friends beat his wife. Every time he brought it up I would say “that’s not okay”. And he would reply “It’s not really my business”.

Now like I said I’m lucky. I’ve never been seriously hurt. I’m lucky that I grew up around male step cousins and we fought I knew how to hold my own. I’m lucky that the guys were never super violent to me directly. I’m lucky that I was careful, I’m lucky that I got to move away from that small town. I’m lucky that I have some of the friends I did who told me, “You deserve better”. I’m lucky that I believed them. I’m lucky that I’m not a victim. But we are all unlucky where we live in a world where these things happen. Where we aren’t equal. 

There are so many great men and women in the world, but it’s so hard to be willing to even give people a chance when you are afraid of all the terrible things that could happen. And what doesn’t help is people denying these things.