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About LexieB

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  1. My First Bad Truth

    I was six years old. I know because I still owned this ugly peach make-up compartment holder that held all of my most prized hair ribbons and scrunchies; thus, it had to have been before the flood. I was putting away the container under the bathroom sink. I wasn't still supposed to be awake, but I had sneaked into the bathroom to pick out a different scrunchie for the next day. At that point in my life, I was an utter brat about my hair. I kept my hair down slightly past my waist. I was so afraid that all of the school kids would think I wore my hair the same everyday. Therefore, I created a rule - I could not repeat the same hairstyle more than once a month. Repetition would never be mistakenly attributed to my hair. With that obsession came my obsession with hair decorations. I often sneaked into the bathroom after I was tucked into my bed; that night was no exception. I think maybe I was in the bathroom later at night than I usually was. I didn't know how to tell time on an analog clock just yet. I heard mom and dad in the kitchen. Before this, I'd never heard them fight. Not once. It isn't like I imagined my parents were the perfect couple. I just accepted that mommy and daddy were an indivisible unit. When I was five, a lady at school asked me if I hated having to share a room with my younger sister (number 5). My response was, "No. All the boys share a room. All the girls share a room. Even mommy and daddy have to share a room." Little did I understand that my parents did not quite feel that it was a required action. I had such infallible logic - and that logic extended to the fact that parents just didn't fight. Yet, there they were in the kitchen fighting. The odd thing is that I remember that awful peach hair compartment contraption so clearly. Other parts of this memory are a little more blurred. I remember a glass shattering. It sounded like a plate - like when I was trying to carry my plate to the sink and I had an "uh-oh" happen. But, usually when uh-ohs happen, there is only one crash. This time, there were multiple crashes and lots of loud words being yelled - loud words that I didn't understand and didn't know. I think maybe they were explicatives. I don't know. I managed to not learn my first cuss word in English. I learned it in American Sign Language, but not until I was nine. I definitely can't relay what was said in that moment. I peeked out of the bathroom and down the long hallway. There is a bar area that is able to be seen from down the hallway - and through that is the kitchen. I could see dad pressed against mom. They were really close together...and crashes still kept happening. I can't figure it out. It doesn't quite mesh. How did the sounds keep happening if dad was so close to my mommy? My only thought is that the sounds and the visuals were separated and that my memory has squished them together. I think maybe he hit her or he choked her, but that is me filling in the blanks based on my gaping memory. I think this is correct, but I'm not sure that I'm attributing it all correctly. I remember sneaking back into bed and closing my eyes really tight...to make it all go away. I fell asleep rather quickly. I don't suppose anything much else happened - at least not in the immediately surrounding days because I don't remember anything else.
  2. History Defined

    History is not actually always the history that would be agreed upon and perceived by all. The winning party gets to write the history books. It is a one-sided account of what happened. It is not fair; rarely does anyone attempt to write an unbiased explanation. Why is that so? Are we so afraid to truly look at what we've done and see how it relates to both sides of the story? Do we like to come out smelling like jasmine while leaving the other party smelling like the compost pile? Why can't we all just smell like lilies? Some lilies smell more than others; some don't smell at all. Are we really that desperate to never find fault in anything we do? Okay, as an American I feel that I can totally use the American Revolution as an example and not be jumped at by too many people since I'm opposing my own history. But, I'm not really. I'm just stating the facts. In America, it is taught that those horrible British were taxing us to high heaven - leaving us with no money with which to support our family. We had no choice. We had to fight and stand up for our rights as people. We could not be responsible for paying more taxes and doing more things than the people on the other continent. In America, the only individuals at fault are the British - the bad, bad British. Yet go to England and open your eyes. What will you find? You will find that the history books teach a very different story. The history from the British perspective is that the rebel Americans started a war to avoid paying taxes that they so rightly deserve to pay. We are the bad, bad Americans. Which perspective is correct? Neither in my opinion. They are just different. I think a lot of things I remember are like this. I saw it all from my vantage point of the world. I think that some people investigate the various facets of our world more in-depth than others. I think that some take it all at face value and if they do not perceive things the way anyone else did, it is of no fault of their own. I really do hope I approach my world the way that looks deeply into all the crevices. But do I really? Is my history the way I think it is merely because I think it is so? Or is my history the way I say it is because I have fully investigated my past and decided that what I remember is the best, most closely accurate rendition of the past. I mean, they all are after all a rendition of some fashion. I just hope mine is correct. Well, see, here I go avoiding why I came here at all - and instead talking about how history manages to relate to my own childhood.
  3. Cake or Bread?

    The debate for the evening: shall I eat cake or shall I eat bread? Both - fresh baked and made from scratch - envelop the room with such a decadent aroma. And yet, as I try to decide just what would fill me, I am reminded of the often misquoted phrase that was not actually uttered by Marie-Antoinette. I wonder, how much of my life was misquoted? How much of my childhood is so vastly misunderstood? She died because people stated she had uttered this statement - something that was similarly published before she was even born. And yet, she wasn't innocent. Do I excuse myself as though I was innocent? I don't know. I don't suppose I do - I do accept that I had more control of situations than say the other children...but I too was a child when most of this happened. I don't know that I'm connecting these thoughts all too well. I do confess, it meshes much better in my head than it appears to on the screen. In recent days I've been struggling with the right words to talk about the events that surrounded my childhood. I seem to oscillate between not thinking of those times and thinking about them quite a bit. I was told today that people must forgive this boy that we all know for being a jerk - after all, "He had such a dreadful childhood and all; his parents are divorced." I looked at them and said, "That does not always define a dreadful childhood." The response, "Well, we put up with him because of that." I wonder, do they 'put up with me' for the same reason - the divorce or my childhood? I don't feel that I act out because my parents divorced or because of the experiences of my childhood. In fact, I seem to feel as though I'm more cautious and reserved at first in person due to my experiences. Am I really misunderstood? And, who misunderstands me - them or me? I'm honestly not sure how much I'm in the mood to talk now about what I'm thinking about. I still have yet to decide upon the best words - my new obsession, or more my newly focused obsession with semantics and descriptions of events. It is well known at this point that my childhood was abnormal. I don't feel as though I need to say that in detail again. How do you best describe what it is like to have someone throwing things at you one minute - raging to no end and the next minute 'asleep'? How do you tell someone when you don't know that this is from a drunken stupor? How do you describe the knots and the stomach cramps from fighting that would continue throughout the night - doors slamming, people shouting, hitting. There were these games you had to play and if you guessed wrong, it was off to bed - no food or anything (I mean, we played food wars, so whatever...I suppose this is merely an extension). Do you answer? Do you stare? Do you leave the room? Do you sit? Sitting was always the safest choice. Yes, you'd have a lot to sit through, but rarely were you punished for sitting. If you left the room, you'd better've left the house - and expect to not be allowed to return except to sneak in through a window. Baths were also somewhat decent. I mean, it was a fairly good place to hide - they didn't often come in there, though it wasn't always a guarantee. It was all so confusing. I don't know. This isn't making any sense. How do you prevent the continuation of being misunderstood? And then, the question is: do I really care?
  4. Oh pink. I don't think this makes you a racist at all. Maybe from the opposite proof - I was for the longest time afraid of anyone who looked like Throck...which essentially meant I was afraid of males of his size and race - and he is the same race as me. I basically had a trigger against my own race and I didn't think I was racist. I think it is no different that you would have a trigger against a certain look. I understand that it may feel like racism, but I don't think that is what you are describing. You are having a trigger. I don't think facebook or the stars or anything is trying to suggest anything to you. It is probably annoying that the notifications keep popping up. I hope the triggers subside soon.
  5. What is a Word?

    If a word is merely what we create it to mean, then any word could essentially mean anything. That is why we have created an understanding of what each word will represent contextually. I mean, if we don't, we would all live in a 1-D box, a void where no one actually communicates with each other. We'd exist in a world where we all talk at each other and not with each other. So, why is it that I have an aversion (almost even dare I say a fear) to certain words? This aversion isn't all inclusive to only sexual assault type words. There are other words that I have a disconnect with - that just do not feel like acceptable words for me to use when communicating with the real world. It may seem odd, because in the computer realm if a word feels untrue, I can stare it down - type and untype it until it stays on the screen. I can make it a part of what I am communicating because I know that what is most important is not allowing myself to continue with my aversion against a word. What is most important when I am in this blog entry creation space is that I am able to most effectively and accurately communicate what is pulsating within the gray matter of my brain. In real life, it is a completely different story. It is as if my brain takes over and starts sending out warning messages throughout my body. It is as if I cannot pass over the thought that someone will be able to see me and attach those words I most fear with my own physical presence. This is not to say that I don't manage to communicate these ideas - this is not even to say that I don't say those words with which I fear - it mostly is to say that I manage to successfully avoid them until it is practically unavoidable. And even then, it is only under certain circumstances. Before I continue, I suppose I seem cryptic by avoiding the words that I have an aversion to. It only seems fair that I go ahead and fess up to them, even if it is much easier to connect fingers to the keyboard. I do not like the word 'acceptance'. I can do the accepting of things that happen in my life, but I feel that the word is not an accurate word - even when displayed on the monitor. I avoid the thought of a 'black and white' world - and created a new word by calling it all 'pitch and prism'...just so that I could continue to express an idea and a conjunction of words that I do not like. I suppose that doesn't help much in the realm of communicating with others. I detest the word 'issues' and generally like the word 'problems'. Yet, sometimes, the right word is 'issues'. I have a dreadful hard time saying the word 'rape,' yet I type it throughout the pages. What I notice is that I state it and then I still manage to avoid it the rest of the time, opting for the phrase 'sexual assault.' I like the ambiguity. In a world where ambiguity often confuses me, I opt for an ambiguous phrase. I love the irony in that one. I know there are more, but these are the prominent words for the moment. What makes the verbalization of a word so different from the tactile punching in of that same word? It could be that they are separate processes and my brain can more easily function to do one over the other. It could be that no one on here can see me. It could be that I've created an inner block within my head where one medium of saying a word is much easier than another. It could just be that I'm making excuses. In the end, what matters is that I can recognize that I have a glitch in my system, if you will. A glitch, that for now, appears as if it is going to remain. It matters more that I can successfully communicate what needs to be communicated, even if the method is more round-about than is necessary. In time though, I do hope to not be so bothered. Because, if a word is merely whatever we define it as, then these words should be nothing more than the content with which I am trying to describe. And if my starting premise is that these words create an aversion within me because they are scary, then what I'm really trying to say is that the content that I am trying to describe is scary. And, if the content I am trying to describe is what is really scary, then what I want to be able to do is make that content no longer scary - because it is all in the past - and be able to verbalize these words without hesitation...without restraint.
  6. Thanks everyone for the sentiments. I've looked into all of the animal shelters in the area. It seems that Sookie isn't there - and, better yet, has not been there. I'm looking into other rescue plans - and I KNOW one of them will be effective. At some point, I figure I'll identify and implemet the best cat rescue plan...at which point, I'll let everyone know because my little one needs to come home to her loving home.
  7. Venom Stings

    As often I like to do, I start by not talking abouit the reason for this entry - avoidance is always an effective method for dealing with things, right? The day, when viewed as a whole instead of divided in its pieces, was quite nice. I worked on honing my skills of oil changing for my car - or, well, at least my skills for lifting my car with a jack. I'm not strong enough to actually turn the nut under the car, nor am I strong enough to twist off the filter. I'm also not coordinated enough to pour in the oil - even with the aid of a funnel. But, I am a great watcher - and I do act as though I'm participating. My step-dad does all the rest (or the dirty work as it actually ends up). I also successfully took an inventory for class - an ethical lens inventory - which has determined that I, like most Americans, focus on the individuality of self rather than the community at large when making decisions (similar to if it hurts even one, it isn't good - pareto optimality at its best if you ask me). AND, I also tested within this assessment that I think more with my head when making moral decisions than I do with my heart, which is no surprise to me. I would've liked to think that I was closer to the center - able to utilize both my heart and head (or at least balance individual versus community), but alas, I am not. I guess we all use our strengths, acknowledge our weaknesses, and let the rest of the world help fill in the gaps. All and all, today went quite well until this evening. Today, I went to support group. Group itself went okay - it was not as enlightening or as connectional as other times that I have attended, but it was also not dreadful. On the other hand, what was said to my group as a whole, by two ladies who need to introspectively investigate their own self-conscious, still stings quite a bit. Before group starts, everyone within the group generally arrives a few minutes early. We were all sitting in the conference room (which is shared not only by our group and the facilitators, but also by all of the other businesses that also utilize the building). As the members of our group were talking and waiting for the facilitator to begin the actual session, two of the ladies from another organization walked past the room and one said to the other in such a voluminous voice, "Oh, those people are in there right now." Oh my goodness! Excuse me? THOSE people! To what does she think she is referring to? I should think it would not be towards our support group - one that is functioning quietly and without any messes within the room. I mean, it isn't like we're a disruptive group; thus, it was not to our actions with which she was offended. It was an action with which we could not control. I felt as though it was absurd that they would talk about us - a part of the population - as if they are not and could not ever be included within this subgroup of the population. It does not fit with the statistical ideals of simple random sampling. I guess, before I become far too technical and veer away from my feelings in my offense by what they said, what I'm trying to say is taht I'm offended by the fact that these individuals work in that building. One would think that they would've been exposed to some sort of sensitivity training and would not share the same sentiments as others about a sexual assault support group. Or maybe I'm wrong. Maybe that is why they have these feelings. I guess I was just thoroughly surprised. The ladies should not have that feeling - but moreover, if they had that feeling, they should at least have the decency to NOT be so verbal about their disgust until they are at least five hundred feet away. Ah, well. Whatcha gonna do?
  8. I am so glad to hear that Randi did listen and was so supportive. I think that shows how good of a friend you both are to each other. I hope you two have fun this weekend.
  9. I don't think this is you being a drama queen at all. In fact, I think this shows just how introspective you are - to be able to see and admit to your feelings, all of them, even those that are ones most people would not want you to admit. I do admit that I want to take you up close and snuggle you to somehow help relieve those feelings, but at least I can send some warm pink thoughts your way.
  10. Wherefore Art Thou?

    Where oh where is my Sookie cat? I cannot find her anywhere. As a matter of fact, I couldn't find the other cat that has laid claim to Gabby and Tyler's house either. I don't know where the cats are. They (Tyler and Gabby) left for the weekend. They aren't supposed to be there. I was supposed to be able to jump the fence and lure the cat that has claimed me over to the door flap and convince her to leave with me. I figured it would take little to no convincing to get Sookie out the door. Sookie claimed me. Sookie likes me. Sookie has always very obviously preferred me over them. But, Sookie wouldn't come. I searched throughout. Sookie always sits on the window sill trying to get sun - even when there is no sun. Or maybe she is standing guard. I'm unsure. She wasn't at any of her usual haunts. From what I can tell, she isn't at any of her haunts at all. Did they take her? They don't generally do that. Why would they start doing that now? Oh Gawd. This is just terrible. My cat is missing. They have to bring her back, but that means my first attempt at rescue was severely unsuccessful. Maybe I can try again. Surely I can devise a new plan. I just have to figure it out. Oy. Stupid dumb not-luck.
  11. Thank you all for your nice thoughts and for not holing it against me on this matter.
  12. Thank you Siren - both for your opinions on my sense of anxiety (or the lack thereof) and especially for your sneaky ninja cat-rescuing vibes. I'll let you know when my cat-stealth reclaiming adventure is over.
  13. Things to Accomplish

    Okay, so here is my list of objectives for the day: Go to the grocery store - check Weed the backyard - check Work on my HR project - check Braid a bunch of little girl's hair for a wedding - check Go recapture my Sookie kitty - Now, let's go do this!!! I have my running shoes on. I have my Sookie blanket - the one she always laid on when we were snuggling to go to sleep. I have my keys. I have my super hiding black hoodie, black pants, and black sunglasses on (okay, no I don't, but that would be an awesome sight to see). Now, all that is left to do is to go get her. Here is to crossing my fingers and hoping that this works out.
  14. Psychological Profile

    To go to pharmacy school, there are applications and tests and prerequisites and tons of forms that fully scare you and make you sure you aren't going to actually get accepted. And then, I got accepted. Unfortunately, the fears just seem to have shifted. Now, instead of filling out papers that may make it so that I could not go to the school, the school has me filling out papers and take tests that determine what courses I need to refresh on (which I expected to take these placement tests) and the entertaining stuff...the psychological profiles. There is one psychological test after the next. They've tested how I process information. They've tested my group personality profile - how I work on a team, extrovert versus introvert, etc. They've tested my motivation. They've tested my concentration and how well I pay attention to things. They've tested my anxiety (probably two or three times). They've tested my test taking strategies and my use of time management skills and the test continue. I don't like that I've taken all these profiles. I'm not really sure what they're all going to say to the school about me. The unsureness is a little worrisome. I'm quite certain that I'm testing psychologically fine in some of these aspects. On the other hand, I've probably also not done so very well on some of the points, such as anxiety. Ha. I'm anxious about being anxious. This is just great!
  15. Wow! That is an amazing step. Good for you. I am so proud of you. I cannot speak specifically for the crisis center where you live, but I can speak in generals (and of about six different centers). Due to the fact that I'm moving, I've been inquiring about services from everywhere - just on the chance that I would need them. What I know is that, in general, the centers offer basically the same things, in varying degrees. So, maybe this will apply to your area as well and can be of some use to you. Each place seems to offer support group. Sometimes they require that you meet with someone once before you can go - an intake person or a counselor - sometimes not. If you do meet with a counselor first, they'll give you a more detailed packet of the services they provide. If not, you can always ask the facilitator when you go to your first group or you can ask the person who calls you on Monday. As far as the brochure: Advocacy is usually for various sexual assault advocacy needs. What I mean is that they will send someone for as a medical advocate when you are in the hospital after the assault for your rape kit exam. They will send someone to talk with the police with you so that you aren't alone. They will sit with you throughout the trial so that you don't have to ever sit alone or feel alone during the whole process. They are there to ensure that you are not taken advantage of in any way. They advocate for you. Emergency transportation is to help get you to these places - group, the hospital, the courthouse, the police station, etc. Most every place seems to offer something called "crisis counseling". There are usually with licensed counselors, though I've talked to some places where they are not. This is essentially individual counseling. Some places have a limited number of times you can go from what I've gathered - ten or twelve - others allow you to go unlimited until you feel that you are no longer in need of this service. There are also other things they do at these centers such as awareness functions at schools and such as well as support group, which is what you initially asked about. If you ask them about any of these services, they seem to be happy to give you (in my experience) the information. I hope you get your questions answered and find the crisis center helpful. Once again, that is awesome that you walked in!