Are Your Sure There's No "War on Women"?

Are you absolutely certain there is no Republican "War on Women"?   Because I'm a little frightened to be a woman in this country right now, and from where I'm standing I feel like I am under attack. Women are being bombarded with legislature at the state and federal level aimed at taking away our rights.  And Republicans are leading the charge.

First, let's talk about the Blunt Amendment.  In retaliation to the Obama administration's birth control coverage rule, Republican Senators attempted to add the amendment to a highway funding bill that would allow not only religious groups but any employer to reject covering individual aspects of health insurance they find morally questionable, not just contraception. This amendment would essentially require women to ask their employers permission to use birth control pills, get a mammogram or a PAP smear.  Anything.  Fortunately, the amendment did not pass, but what the hell were the Republicans thinking?  Should we require men walk into their bosses' office when they feel horny and announce they are taking Viagra tonight, because they have a feeling they are going to get lucky?  Considering the odds their boss is a man, they would probably say, "That's great!  Glad someone is getting some."  And if their boss is one of the 20 million Rush Limbaugh radio listeners, they will likely ask to watch the video of the Viagra in use. 

But unlike Viagra, oral contraceptives are prescribed to protect a women's health.  Apparently, Rush and his similarly narrow-minded counterparts have trouble understanding this part.  As Sandra Fluke eventually was able to present to Democratic members of the House of Representatives, oral contraceptives are prescribed to regulate polycystic ovarian syndrome which can lead to decreased infertility.  Or in my case, nearly death.

Making Peace with my Reflection in the Mirror

“You yourself, as much as anybody in the entire universe, deserve your love and affection.”

- Buddha

My therapist says I need to learn to love myself. As much as I love my son. She says I will have a difficult time beginning a new relationship until I do.

Huh? How do I do that? How do I know when I love myself enough? How do I know that I don't love myself right now?

Then it hit me. I don't truly love myself right now. As recently as last week, I was deeply hurt when a genuine, caring, gentle man I had begun dating decided he didn't want to continue the relationship. He was afraid he was not what I needed or that I wasn't ready to start dating again. Immediately I started falling down that dark hole thinking, "What's wrong with me?” I thought, "He doesn't want a relationship with me, because I'm broken. I'm not whole. I'm defective. I'm tarnished. Tainted. No one will ever love me again, because I let someone abuse me. Something must be wrong with me because I allowed the abuse to happen". Suddenly, all my insecurities came bubbling up to the surface overwhelming my mind. Again.

For the Love of a Child

"Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body." ~Elizabeth Stone

This is the story of how I met my abuser and how I found the strength to leave.

I was married once before. My husband had two boys from a previous marriage and had custody every other week. In the beginning I was unsure whether I wanted a child or not. I was busy with working long hours and traveling. Also, the thought of being responsible for the life of one tiny human being was terribly frightening. In the meantime, I enjoyed being a part of my stepsons' lives, taking them to school, helping with homework, caring for then when sick, and cleaning up after them. It seemed to be enough for a while. Then 9/11 happened. While I did not know anyone killed or injured in the attacks, like many Americans, I was profoundly affected by the horror of these atrocities. The tragedy of people losing their lives on those planes, and at the World Trade Center and Pentagon began to consume my mind.  I began to think more about my own mortality. While I had previously dealt with my mortality in my early 20s, I was again coming to grips with the fact our lives are short. More importantly, at 31, I was running out of time, if I wanted to leave something of myself behind. Yes, I could write a bestselling novel, paint a masterpiece, find the cure for cancer or right some social injustice. But these events seemed highly unlikely. I was a natural nurturer, caregiver, and teacher. Slowly the idea of bringing a child into the world and teaching them all the wonders of life took hold of me. Maybe some beauty and good could come out of this horrible event. At first, my husband wasn't too keen on the idea. After all, he had two boys who were 10 and 11 at this point. He considered his diaper changing days over. After a few months, he reluctantly came around to the idea out of consideration for me.