CW: Rape, retraumatization, violence against women

Yesterday morning I sat in court as someone very dear to me recounted the story of her rape. She did this so that the man who attacked her couldn’t get his record expunged. He wanted to pretend that what he did never happened. And so my friend had to stand in a courtroom and relive one of the most terrifying and traumatizing moments of her life so that the person who caused the mess couldn’t come out clean. The judge ruled in favor of expungement. 

When I was in college I was drugged by two “friends” of mine. I don’t remember most of that night. But I know I was well beyond the ability to consent to any of it, the things I remember and the things I don’t. Watching the judge listen to my weeping friend and the smug piece of shit sitting in via zoom for the trial I was reaffirmed in my decision to never “legally” report what happened to me. To handle it my own way and on my own.

There are populations of people who understand 2 things very clearly. The first thing is this. The legal system is not built to protect us. It is built to protect power and itself. People with melanated skin, people with uteruses and vaginas, queer people, people with gender presentations that society finds uncomfortable, we know this very very well. The system is there to keep the people in power who already have it. 

The second thing is this, we are rarely ever “safe.” That even if someone is an old and dear friend we don’t know what they will feel entitled to should the circumstances present themselves. We don’t know how they might abuse their power if given the opportunity. Of the 2 people who raped me one was someone I had known since 8th grade. He and I went on a band trip together in High School. We would hang out with the same friend group all summer. We were from a small town where everyone knew everyone. He gave me rides to work when I was 16 (3 years prior). He was someone I trusted. 

When I talk about privilege, power, and the responsibilities of community I speak from the perspective of someone living in the practical intersections of power. I also speak as a survivor and someone who the system has failed repeatedly. When I press people and demand they interrogate their privilege. It is because I, and many I love and do life with, have been failed by those meant to protect us. We have had to build ways around and in spite of our legal system to protect each other. We have had to advocate and show up for each other in medical settings, in social settings, and in personal spaces. 

Sitting with the group of women who showed up for my friend yesterday I was starkly reminded that there is no justice in this world. Not for everyone. That the only justice I got was the justice I made for myself. I have never regretted not reporting my assaults. I knew a long time ago that there was only more trauma and pain for me on that path. I handled it. I’ve thrived regardless of the damage done to me. Only very rarely, and only on the behalf of those who love me, am I still angry about the scars I bear. 

The one thing I do grieve, still and forever, is the way I have to respond to the innocents in my life. The ones I am still fighting so hard for. The ones who create a sense of urgency in me that feels almost impossible to bear. When my kid asked me what the judge decided and I told them. They were so hurt, so shocked. “But that’s not fair!” and the response always has been, and continues to be the same. “No, my love, it’s not.”

Believe it or not everyone, I am a bit of a control freak. “That surprises literally no one.” you might say. Or, “I saw your picture on a google search of the term control freak.” But in my defense I would respond, “I have had to take care of me, by myself, for a long time.” The two may seem unrelated but bear with me. If someone learns self protection early, if they have not been able to consistently depend on even their caretakers for protection or the ability to meet their needs they have deeply ingrained the idea that survival means minimizing risk. Which means maximizing control. 

What I have just described will sound familiar to anyone who knows even a little bit about attachment theory and/or trauma. We throw around a lot of diagnoses these days and I think that people have become a little desensitized to the idea of trauma and PTSD. But I also think that for too long we have culturally dismissed how deeply traumatic our human history, economic structures, and parental techniques have been. But I digress, what this musing is actually about is relationships and the ways they evolve. 

I do not come by vulnerability easily. I am very skilled at telling people my history without sharing any of the ways I feel about it. Good at facts not at feelings. It isn’t that I haven’t wanted closeness. It’s that I know intimately the dangers of closeness. I both desire intimacy and am deeply terrified of being intimate. In the last decade of my life I have worked exceptionally hard to become intentional about how I show up in my romantic, and platonic, intimate relationships (to varying degrees of success). 

But now, because my brain is a sneaky trauma ninja, I have to be extremely careful of trying to overly manage the responses and feelings of others. It is especially intolerable for me if someone close to me misinterprets my motives or my desire for connection. I think that being misunderstood is hard for all people. Don’t we all struggle to explain ourselves? Even to strangers, people we may never see again. But when it is someone closer, someone we love, it is even more painful. 

A number of my core relationships have changed drastically in the last year. My pandemic “pod” accessible constantly before is now working and busy. Folks who I didn’t have access to for 2 years became accessible again. New people I met through any number of avenues became options for deepening relationships. And people dear to me have left me. In all of this the hardest challenge for me has been the loss of control. 

Coming to terms with the fact that you will never get a chance to explain yourself. Or that even if you did the outcome would still be the same. Coming to terms with releasing expectations. Coming to terms with new needs you never knew you had. Coming to terms with deep grief. This is complicated internal work. Work I have never been good at. Worthy work. Necessary work. Hard work.

Last week I stood in the ocean for the first time since my ex husband, abuser, father of my child, and best friend committed suicide almost a year ago. I hated it. I kept getting knocked off my feet. I kept getting water up my nose. I kept losing sight of my people. But then I lifted my feet. I leaned back into each wave. I floated, rose, and fell. I felt the energy and power move through me instead of run into me.

I struggle to allow relationships to ebb and flow. I struggle to release them to their own outcomes. I struggle against them. I struggle to control them. I fight and push and pull and smother them with words and intentions. This is my confession and moment of accountability that I will lean into the power of the loves that I have found. And release the people I have lost to the next iteration of themselves. Not because I don’t want to be safe. And not because I don’t love them (or myself). But because I do. 

Ok, so first, if the store doesn’t organize by size what you are going to want to do is turn around, walk out the door, go to your car and not shop there. Seriously, do not waste your time. Unless you are incredibly patient and confident it will be so so discouraging to dig through rack after rack and only find one thing. Not only is it discouraging this is an experience that reinforces the wrong headed thinking that you are hard to clothe beautifully. Which is not true. Reject that thought.

Second, be pickier. Do not let a sense of scarcity motivate you. When you are larger it can feel like we need to settle for what is available instead of what we like or feel good in. It is OK to pass up the shirt that doesn’t fit quite right or the pants that are just a little too short. Make sure that when you are assessing an item think about if you feel confident in it. Money spent on something you won’t wear is wasted.

But that brings us to point number 3 get to know a tailor. I think some of us get the idea that tailoring clothes is super expensive and complicated. Listen, getting good quality thrifted clothes tailored is way, way, cheaper than buying high quality clothes new. I found a leather jacket for $7 at a thrift store because the zipper was broken. I then spent $15 to get the zipper replaced. A nice leather jacket for $22 is still a deal. As I mentioned above I am also very tall. I have had the arms in a half dozen blazers made intentionally ¾ sleeve instead of just too short. 

Fourth, have a shopping list. When I shop I keep in mind what I already have and have a list generated (thanks Google Docs) of the few things I need in my wardrobe i.e. I currently need a new neutral color cardigan preferably a chunky one as I don’t have that silhouette in my closet at the moment either.  I could also use more business casual shirts to layer with what I already have. As I am shopping I keep in mind what will help my wardrobe at home. This helps me stay task oriented and not buy things I don’t need or waste cash on something that won’t work with what I own already. 

Lastly, know your “go to” looks. My personal go to wardrobe staples are cardigans, wrap dresses and pencil skirts. Those items are followed closely by tank tops/sleeveless shirts of all kinds. I dress in layers a lot of the time. Things like these I know I will wear all the time. As long as they are different colors from what I already own I know I will use them regularly. Along with this I also know my color story. I love blue and orange. If the new item are those colors or compliment those colors it is probably a winner. 

There you have it friends. As a bigger bodied human that spent a lot of her adult life in various stages of broke those are my best tips for building a wardrobe on a budget. Please comment below if you have any tips and tricks of your own. Go forth and thrift! Good Luck!

Did you know that we have as many neurotransmitters in our gut as a cat has in their brain? A weird fact, which I interpret to mean that we have a lot of ways to “think” that are outside our brains. When you are early in forming a judgement about the safety or desirability of a partner or friend, that is a great time to trust your instincts. Trust your feelings of discomfort. Let them help to keep you safe. 

Early in a relationship, red flags and green flags are an opportunity to adjust behavior. They tell you your habits or internalized traumas may be in the driver’s seat rather than your intentional mind. A lot of these I have seen in myself. Things that should have warned others that I was not on stable footing. As well as behaviors that have inspired trust and intimacy in others. 

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Misogyny, racism, homophobia, transphobia etc

Red Flags: Listen, if they call women bitches, people of color… queer folk… well, I don’t need to use the words, you all know them. This person is violent. That language is violent and they’ve got big issues that are obvious. For me, this kind of behavior is a dealbreaker. Much more subtle is the quiet entitled behavior, treatment of others in public spaces, and immediate defensiveness when told their behavior is problematic. Look at how people behave in other places on social media then just your inbox. P.S. Slut, whore, toy etc. can be terms of endearment in kink circles. That shit is negotiated. No one calls someone that with impunity. 

Green Flags: When a person is aware of their privilege and where they can advocate for others. When checked on problematic behavior they are embarrassed and do the work of educating themselves. They help hold you accountable to your best self and encourage you to learn and grow. 

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Socially isolated/Socially Isolating

Red Flags: Doesn’t go out. Doesn’t have hobbies. Doesn’t have lasting friendships outside of romantic relationships. More subtle forms of this once in a relationship are wanting you to ask permission before you make plans with other people, demanding a lot of your time to the detriment of other relationships, and using guilt to get invited to all the things you do socially. Good relationships don’t happen in a vacuum. Perspectives can get warped and myopic when you only spend time with one person. 

Green Flags: Has long term healthy relationships with family and friends. Has multiple social circles. Invites you to partake in things that make them happy and fulfilled (trivia night, art fair, book club, etc). Encourages you to take time for yourself and to maintain your relationships. 

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Disassembling (also known as lying)

Red Flags: They have a lot of reasons why their exes are all “crazy” or “assholes” They have long complicated answers to simple questions that never get around to direct talk. WHen dating they are super vague about their home life. Some will talk a lot about their kids but never the other parent of those kids. It is ok to be suspicious here. Although there can be reasons for some of these actions as they build up your internal warning system should start to get louder and louder.

Green Flags: Direct answers of questions. Offers an explanation when asked rather than as justification. Still on good terms with former partners. Doesn’t mind when you ask for clarification. 

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Impairment of Judgement: 

Red Flags: You see them using drugs or drinking in excess regularly. They have a lot of stories about nights they don’t remember. Drinking is a default behavior when out socially. Tread carefully here. I know lots of people have a beer or two on the regular and recreational drug use isn’t in and of itself a red flag. (Not for me anyway) But excessive use of substances can be a symptom of avoidance or lack of other healthier coping skills.

Green Flags: Has a good sense of their limits where alcohol and drugs are concerned. Is comfortable saying no to another drink in social settings. Doesn’t automatically include alcohol and drugs in their planning for relaxation. 

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Codependence: 

Red Flags: Attaches very very quickly. Moves too fast to relationship milestones. Here it is important to notice the difference between ego stroking and genuine compliments. They may invite you over their boundaries to “prove” affection. They may also have a hard time balancing their time and want to be with you constantly. This red flag also can include encouraging your bad habits or making you feel like only they “understand” your insecurities. They may spend a lot of time talking themselves down so that you can reassure them. This can also be exhibited as being possessive of your time and energy. 

Green Flags: Has a good sense of what they have to offer in a relationship. Is clear about when they need reassurance and asks for it directly. Encourages close relationships with friends. Builds up your self esteem and doesn’t let you indulge in negative self talk. 

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Manipulation: 

Red Flags: The use the semblance of vulnerability to mask the habit of handing you their emotional labor. They may not do large boundary oversteps at first. But they start with small pushes to get you in a habit of forgiving their missteps. They may ask for permission for small things that are easy yeses working their way up to larger asks. They may spend a lot of time with you on your failings or mistakes but seem unaware of their own foibles. 

Green Flags: Speaks directly to their needs and asks regularly about yours. Protects your boundaries even if you forget or try to compromise them. Helps you protect your boundaries with other people. 

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Lack self Awareness and/or self control: 

Red Flags: They are good at expressing their emotions, and not so good at managing them. Everything is someone else’s fault. They treat people with less power dismissively or disposable (think weight staff, cashiers). This also extends to people they don’t want something from (anyone they don’t want to sleep with). They don’t have a baseline for their treatment of others it is emotionally based. They are always the “wronged” one in their relationships whether at home, work, or school. Lack of humility, or awareness of their shortcomings. Temper is an issue here as well, small things make them seemingly furious. And when they are corrected on a behavior or boundary there isn’t any effort to make lasting changes to bad behavior. Be careful here. This can turn dangerous very quickly. 

Green Flags: People who take responsibility for their actions and the consequences of their actions. Treat people without power with dignity and respect. Humbleness and honesty about their shortcomings without overly focusing on them. Willingness to learn and adjust behavior. Genuine efforts to make changes when they are confronted with a bad habit.

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And remember there is grace we can offer one another. We can unlearn bad habits. We can take unhealthy patterns and adjust and evolve. Flags of all kinds help us categorize and assess risk. Green flags can help us feel safe and loved. Red flags can warn of dysfunction and incompatibility. If you bump into something that feels icky, finding language for it can be the first step in making a change for the better.

In the episode Aging is Awesome? we talked about the strangeness of this middle time in our lives. It made me think of someone very dear to me and think about my current context in the timeline of my life. I wrote a poem for this space. Because sometimes feelings are best described in figurative language.

When I say I am old
I am not old in the way the world informs the word.
Ready to be thrown away for a newer thing.
Old like milk, like faded wallpaper in a dusty room.

I am old like the woods is old. 
I am old like the water in caves underground. 
I am old like a soul learning it’s worth.
Older not yet elder. 

I know my way and remember the ways I have walked.
I feel them in my knees and hips and hands. 
Paths to come will mark me further.

I am old like the memories of migration in birds.
I am old like the longest night in winter
I am old like the sound of leaves falling.
I am old like a lullaby hummed by your mother as you lay sleeping.

Not yet a grandmother but old enough to know what my hands will look like,
     when I hold my daughter’s daughter
Old enough to know that I don’t know. 
Old enough to know what I know.
Old enough to remember the chemical love of youth, 
     and prefer the nuanced love of age.

Caroline for the solstice 12/22/20

I am going home.

Because I’m grouchy and tired.

Then I’ll masturbate.

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I apologize,

For calling you Timothy.

When clearly you’re Jeff.

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Once upon a time,

two or more people had sex,

and it was awkward.

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Let’s have sexy times. 

There is nothing on Netflix,

that I want to watch. 

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Sometimes sex is nice.

But reading a book alone,

Meets more of my needs.

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Being hugged by them

Is just as satisfying

As penetration

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Your pheromones smell

Like joy, and food, and safety

Fucking delicious

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Caroline 12/17/19

TW: Miscarriage

Grace, our first child, was due on December 27^th. When we found out that we were having a “Christmas Baby” we laughed and rolled our eyes. Being on staff at a church means that December is a terrible time of year to give birth – it’s kind of like expecting a baby in April if you’re an accountant. We broke the news to our moms and told them that we’d have to serve peanut butter & jelly sandwiches for Christmas dinner that year.

But we didn’t get to keep Grace. She left us seasons before winter.

After my miscarriage, my body was chaotic. I didn’t feel like I owned the flesh I occupied anymore. My brain was in fight or flight mode. Old, and as yet untreated PTSD was driving my panicked thoughts. But my heart was maybe in the worst shape. Badly broken and afraid, all that pain quickly turned into anger and hardness. Hardness towards myself, who I blamed as the vehicle of my child’s death. Anger towards all the well-intended people who injured us with phrases that sounded like “At least you know you can get pregnant,” or “At least you weren’t that far along,” or “You know that when a pregnancy ends like this, it’s usually because there’s something wrong with the baby.” Deep resentment toward every round, soft, pregnant body I saw at the grocery store – and there were suddenly so many of them.

But especially, that hardness hung like loud radio static between me and God. I lost the words to pray, because my prayers hadn’t been answered anyway. I stopped taking communion as a form of stubborn protest. I raged against the faith that was supposed to sustain me. This was a different kind of complication that came with being on church staff. I spent many months going through the motions, and though none of them ever said so, I’m sure the students could tell. As my friend Liz says, “Young people have great B.S. detectors.”

I had hoped that by December my heart would be healed, or at least well scabbed over. I had hoped it would stop hurting enough to find some holiness in Advent. But it turns out that a season that revolves around the birth of a child, punctuated by images of a very pregnant Virgin Mary, and so many Happy Families in all things commercial only served to carve out a great emptiness in me. What I really longed for if I’m being honest, was the season of Lent, where we prepared for the crucifixion. I thought it would feel like justice. A child for a child. Christmas was about hope and joy, but I craved blood and tears.  

My spouse and I decided that we needed to seek some quiet. We asked our families for a pass on celebrations, and on Christmas Eve we packed our bags and left for a cabin in the middle of nowhere. We spent 6 days alone in the woods, with our dog, doing Very Little. We spent time hiking, reading, napping and sharing space in a way that we didn’t know how to do during the months since losing Grace. We were both grieving so differently, it had allowed us to drift into our own spaces. We couldn’t figure out how to care for each other, and we were too tired to try. Being in that cabin alone required us to slow down and acknowledge each other’s loss. That’s the most important lesson I learned in the woods that week: how to lean into a season of rest. 

We didn’t return from our trip “more in love than ever before,”  or “healed from our grief.” Neither did I reconcile my anger with God overnight. (Indeed, it would require a season of crucifixion and death, meeting God as the Weeping Mother, to begin to see the ways She was present in our pain.) But in that time away we had learned the importance of respite, so that we had the ability to care for ourselves and one another. We came back to our daily lives knowing that the sacred art of napping was an integral part of our grief and healing. 

All these years later, this is something I have come to relish about winter. This time of year where nothing is growing, and everything can seem desolate, it reminds me that it is also my season to rest. To give myself permission to wrap up in warm blankets, make no plans, and go to bed early. To secretly look forward to the forced pause that comes with the big snows of the Midwest. To ease into the ache of old grief and indulge in pondering life with another child. I am grateful for this season that looks much like death, so that deep inside, rest and nourishment can begin to map out the new things ahead. 

Sara

12/3/19

I am grumpy a lot of time. I make jokes about it but, seriously, kinda grumpy a lot. I will probably flake on plans once in awhile. I don’t ever intend to but I just run out of resources and I can’t people any more. And when I can’t people it is best for me to stay away because I will definitely put my foot in my mouth or be insensitive. I can be kind of self centered that way. 

Also, I am chronically busy. For real, I am really busy. Because if I don’t have enough to do my brain makes that bad sound that engines do when you rev them in neutral. Thus, I tend to overcommit to things and then feel a little frazzled and distracted all the time. I commit to stuff because I want to do it all but I just can’t. 

Now that that’s out of the way let me get to my good qualities. I am really fun to be around. I make excellent jokes some of which are very witty puns (you’re welcome). My sense of humor doesn’t take shots at people with less power and privilege (bare minimum to not be an asshole). So I have that going for me.

If I mess up, I will say I’m sorry. Though it can sometimes take awhile to convince me I am wrong. 8 times out of 10 I will change behavior and put effort into making you safer and more comfortable around me. Those other 2 times are because I have a bad memory about things so please have me write it down. 

I try very hard to keep careful control of my temper and have clean conflict. I am pretty good at not yelling and I am an excellent problem solver. I am getting better about asking if people want their problems solved. If I start to solve a problem you just needed to vent about please tell me.

I will, literally, NEVER remember dumb things you have said or done. Seriously, my memory is not good and I put very little effort into remembering people’s flaws. If you hurt my feelings I will forget about it very quickly and we will be totally fine in 24 hours tops. 

I am very tall and can reach many things on high shelves. I am very handy if you need someone to open jars. If we go shopping together I will be very honest but also very kind. My laugh is very infectious and sometimes I snort!

Thank you for reviewing my application to be your friend. I hope to hear from you soon. 

Caroline
11/19/19

Caroline 10/22/19

Creating a thing is a strange conversation that occurs between the voices in your head. The thing you’re creating usually pipes up at some point. You, of course, can’t avoid the sound of your critics. The imagined words of your denigrators and the hoped for cheers of your supporters. All of these voices swishing around in your brain with their ideas and opinions, every one a distinct perspective with their own agenda. And you have the dubious distinction of coordinating and balancing these perspectives. Trying to actually make a thing. 

If there is an imbalance. If one voice gets too loud, paralysis. Often a bizarre narcissism has to win: the belief that you have a perspective to be shared, that your ideas and words will add something important to the world, that you can make something new that matters. I struggle with this. I am firmly aware that mine is not the strongest nor smartest voice in the room. I know that my best work is done collaboratively. 

My preferred process is when a group of people identify a problem, brainstorm answers, and make each other’s ideas better.  The best outcome is when conclusions are such an amalgam of ideas, improvements, and adjustments that no one can remember who the final decision belongs to making it the intellectual property of all parties. This is my favorite way to learn and create.

This podcast is a collaboration between Sara and I. But it is also the accumulation of years of experience and wisdom of the people we love. The ideas that we’re recording are basically a compendium of the brilliant and beautiful minds of our community. The memories tell stories. The solutions are collective and they are only one step in the process.

I think ultimately to create this thing we let our fundamental desire to be in community to win.We wanted to start a conversation, to make a space, and to widen that circle. Instead of the conversation happening in our heads individually we planned that it happen out loud for all of us to hear. We invited the people we love to participate in the design, and music and the incredibly arduous process of creating the thing. 

Now, comes the even more exciting part, the response. The conversation that comes after the thing. The interactions that affirm and convict us. It is exciting to receive texts and Facebook messages that thank us for making space. It is equally exciting to hear ideas for future episodes and learn what people want/need space for. It is humbling and inspiring to enter this new part of the process. 

We know we will get it wrong. And we hope that in those moments the community will lean toward us and tell us the truth. I hope for hard complicated conversations. I hope for laughter and tears. I hope for opportunities to learn and question myself. I hope to share a thing that makes it easier for someone listening. And more than anything I hope for us all to do this together.