Thursday, May 29, 2014

Too much to say

I'm heartsick.

I'm so tired.

I'm grieving for these families who have lost their children.

I am terrified at sending my child out into the world, because there are men out there who are terrible. Men who see her as property, as less than. They exist, and I know that, because I've been seen that way. All women have. #YesAllWomen

I've been unfollowing a lot of people lately - people who believe in guns and violence and dismiss what women feel. I'm sure they don't give a shit - and I don't want them to. I don't care about them. I want to wrap myself up safely in my false sense of security because if I don't I'll start screaming and just won't stop. I sit and wonder how to fix any of this and all of this. I'm smart, I'm a hard worker, there has to be a way to fix this.

But there isn't.

At least that's what I think when I don't see any way out of this.

I keep hoping, though, that there is. I talk to my kid, my 17 year old girl, and she sees hope. She sees a cohort that dismisses the misogyny and anger. She sees people who value equality, who don't fear displacement or rejection.

I hope she's right. I really do. Because I can't anymore, with all of this. I really can't.

My thoughts go out to all these families that are grieving. I hope we can respect them and ourselves enough to make sure that something changes.


  1. I'm glad your daughter sees a bright future. It's up to our children to change things and make the world a better place. Somehow we seem to have gotten it wrong in some ways.

  2. Love to you my Suni, I will carry hope for both of us,for your daughter. I want to believe like you do, like she does, that there will be a brighter tomorrow. My heartbroken heart is beating in time with yours.

  3. I hope she's right too. Love you. xo

  4. While I would like to live in a bubble, we can't. All we can do is make the best choices for ourselves and hope others do the same. Unrealistic? Perhaps, but given the reality now, that's really all we can do. Surround yourself with hope, with positive people and with the reality you--and your daughter--hope to create. XO

  5. Hugs. I wish I could make it all go away. I try to be positive and do onto others as I would have them do onto me. Hope for the best.

  6. Having daughters just that much older than yours makes me sad sometimes, because I know things that have happened to them that I would have jumped in front of a moving train to prevent. Property. Belongings. Less than. It's all very wearing. What we hope is that we have helped them to know that there ARE good people out there, too...people who can help when the inevitable cat-call, wolf-whistle, grab, touch, insult, aggression take place. UGH. BIG HUGS. I feel your pain.

  7. Dialogue is happening. That is good.

  8. The girl, Veronica - (I refuse to call her a woman because 19 is still too young and she hadn't lived yet) - she graduated last year from the high school both my kids attend. She and my son walked the same halls.

    You probably didn't even notice (because who has time?!?) but I haven't posted a thing on Facebook since last Friday.
    Not one thing.

    I just....couldn't.

    Couldn't find the right SAD words and didn't think funny ones were appropriate.
    Today, I joked about cookie butter because I HAVE to be able to move on.

    Don't I?

    Feeling your pain.

  9. I'm done. This cannot continue. It just can't. I like to think that the next generations will change things, that their seeing hurt and friends die more than I did at their age, especially in such unnecessary, heinous fashion will help them be determined to change things.


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