I Know Not

I know not the moment when my innocence was shattered. When my belief in man became so obscure that I thought death was better than life. I’m lying.

I remember.

I remember the day that you touched me as I slept. The moment that my innocence was shattered and I was left to pick up the pieces of the dirty word I had become. I know not why I had to endure that pain.

Maybe someone can explain.

I know not why I was assaulted by two boys on the school bus. Why they held me down and hunched me as I screamed out.  Kissing me. Holding my wrists. Why they chose to grind their adolescent penises in my crotch all to show me their manhood. I know not why no one came to my rescue. I screamed for help.

I remember.

Because I was just a girl. Faceless. I didn’t matter. They were popular. I was a nobody. Or that was how I was treated after the boys got in trouble. I was just an unknown. I asked for it. I know not how a child asks for boys to hold her down as they humped her and she screamed for help.

I know not why I was abandoned.

The isolation of classmates created such loneliness in my spirit that I understood that a nobody liked me must have deserved the unwanted attention as I was just a girl. A child. It didn’t matter. I don’t know why the expectation is that I wanted this.

I know not why I remember the day that my classmate raped me. I remember the feel of his penis pushing through me as I screamed and fought. The words “No one likes a tease” as I laid there crying and fighting for my spirit. I remember praying to God to die as he penetrated me relentlessly.

I know not why I saw me outside my body. I sang a song. A song of comfort. My mind was breaking apart. I imagined singing. I was a young girl. Maybe about 6 or 7. I sang This Little Light of Mine as he raped me. I know not why that song came to me.

I remember. I remember believing that God was protecting me. That walls were being built all around my mind to protect me from the pain. The pain was insurmountable. The memories would be too painful and I felt numb.

I died that day. Spiritually.

Each time I was touched. I lost a piece of me. But, I lived. I know not why.

Maybe it is because God had greater plans for my life than I could have ever imagined. I know not why.

God gave me a son to raise after boys and a man destroyed many parts of my youth. But, He must have a sense of humor right? Cause why would my womb carry a man?

I know not why.

I know not why the answers to many questions remain unclear. Like fragments and repressed memories they fight to come to light. Buried memories of things not spoken about.

But, I know that I have a purpose. I am better than my perpetrators. I am better than my past. I’m better than the man who tries to break me down by accusing me of emasculating my son when I am the one who brought forth light and named him Munch. I know not why.

 

Want to keep in touch? You can find me on social media at the following links: Twitter @mskeeinmd, Facebook page A Thomas Point of View and my Instagram page https://www.instagram.com/mskeeinmd/.

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Domestic Violence and Silence

Do you hear that? It is the sound of a fist hitting flesh. Bam. Blood dripping off the lip of the victim. She whimpers. Most of the bruises she can hide with make-up. This is physical abuse.

Will you help her?

Did you know? That she left her ex-husband and he’s not supporting his children. He wanted her to stay at home and raise the children. She did. She left and he turned off all her cards and put all the money in the joint account in his private one. She doesn’t have money for food. This is financial abuse.

Will you help her?

Did you know that he called her “b*tch” so much that she thought that was her name? That he cussed her and put her down in front of his friends. Did you watch him make “jokes” at her expense and the painstakingly way she laughed off?  Did you know that he tells her personal and painful history to his new partner as a way to hurt her and humiliate her. This is emotional abuse. 

Will you help her?

Did you know that she endured sex so many times because he wanted it? She hated having sex with him whenever he wanted it but he told her that her body belonged to him. She died each time. This is sexual abuse. 

Will you help her?

Did you know that he sends her harassing emails putting her down and telling her “his beliefs and opinions” about her and what kind of parent she is? He talks about her negatively on social media. This is digital abuse.

Will you help her?

October is Domestic Violence Awareness month. Did you know? Did you know that many women suffer from domestic violence that goes unreported.

Domestic violence does not discriminate. Anyone of any race, age, sexual orientation, religion or gender can be a victim – or perpetrator – of domestic violence. It can happen to people who are married, living together or who are dating. It affects people of all socioeconomic backgrounds and education levels. – National Domestic Violence Hotline

The CDC reports that before the age of 18 – 8.5 million women first experienced rape. I am one of those women. I am a survivor of domestic violence, as I was a victim of rape before the age of 18. I’ve also suffered emotional violence. Violence is never okay.

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Many men don’t see it as emotional violence because they feel that they aren’t physically assaulting you. That’s a myth. If you can’t control your temper and you use tactics to humiliate, embarrass or belittle your former partner, you need help. My rape isn’t my fault. My sexual assault isn’t my fault. My molestation isn’t my fault. Victim shaming is a form of humiliation and is insulting to the victim. You’ve now become a batterer.

I am a survivor and you need to know that violence is never the answer. Don’t ignore the pain of those that may need your support because your silence may kill. Help those that may be hurting.

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Do you know someone? Are you in an abusive relationship? Please get help. Call:

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Want to keep in touch? You can find me on social media at the following links: Twitter @mskeeinmd, Facebook page A Thomas Point of View and my Instagram page https://www.instagram.com/mskeeinmd/.

For Manchester

Last night I went to dinner with a friend of mine and he asked me had I heard about the bombing in England at an Ariana Grande concert. No, I hadn’t heard. It wasn’t playing on the news in the bar where we were and I couldn’t imagine anyone bombing a concert. A concert of a young pop star.

I was wrong. I went home and picked up my tablet to see the news flash notifications that I had missed.  The New York Times, Washington Post and CNN were all reporting the bombing. What kind of person would bomb a concert with children in it? What is this world coming too?

I said my prayers for the families, for England and for the world. I’m at a loss for words. How could you explain this to your children? One more thing to be afraid of. Fear of concerts and letting your children attend with or without you. Terrorism doesn’t care.

No words will ever be able to explain how 22 people died and 59 people were injured for just attending a concert. Listening to music. Isn’t music supposed to heal not hurt? What is this world coming too?

Please pray for Manchester and all the families and victims of this tragedy.

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The Cicadas Are Back

Okay, so Cicadas are out now in Maryland. I’ve been seeing them everywhere on my Facebook feed. I’m grossed out and fascinated at the same time. Why? Because I hate bugs. All kinds of bugs.

I remember the first time I had to kill a spider after separating from my ex-husband. I almost died. That sucker was huge. Ugh! I am still having anxiety attacks about it.

But, back to Cicadas. They are these nasty looking bugs that have big eyes and are loud. Apparently, they have a 13 to 17 year cycle of coming out of the ground. Last time they were here was in 2004. I was still living in NYC so I didn’t have the pleasure of them. Now, I do.

Entomologists (bug doctors) are saying that they will feed the environment and are good for your pets and for you to eat. Say what now? Why would I eat that? They also do not bite or sting people or other animals. Umm, that’s great news – one less insect transmitted illness to worry about. But, why do we have to see them?

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Disclaimer: I own no rights to the photos. I did a Google search for them.

 

Want to keep in touch? You can find me on social media at the following links: Twitter @mskeeinmd, Facebook page A Thomas Point of View and my Instagram page https://www.instagram.com/mskeeinmd/.

Territory

She had marked her territory. He was her man and she wanted to make sure all the other women knew it. So, she insisted that he didn’t hang out with his female friends anymore. If they were married, they could do couple dates. She was to be the only woman in his life.

One day she stopped by his job to bring him lunch. He was happy to see her. She noticed a woman lurking around and playful touching her man. She didn’t like it. He was hers. She waited.

Later that evening she asked her boyfriend about the woman. “Oh, she’s just a friend. Very nice woman” he replied. She smiled. This woman was infringing on her territory.

She didn’t like that.

Later that week, she began observing the woman. Watching her. She wondered what her motives were. Why did she think she could have her man?

She became obsessed with the other woman. She reasoned she was protecting her territory so it was okay. She began stalking the woman’s every move. On-line and in person.

She slashed three of her tires one night. Wrote “slut” on her car. Sent her a dead cat via a courier service. She wanted her to move on. Leave the state. To leave her job. To leave her man alone.

But, this woman wouldn’t budge.

Her relationship with her boyfriend changed. He began to feel sorry for his co-worker. He started to be concerned about her safety and well-being. He even had the nerve to cancel dinner one night. He wanted to check on her.

She told him that she understood. She told him that was why she loved him. His loyalty to friends. She told him that she would keep dinner warm for later.

He loved her. She was such an understanding woman. He wondered how he had ever gotten so lucky.

So she went to the woman’s house that night. Stayed in her car and watched them. She was intent to find out what was going on between her man and that woman.

She got out of her car and peeked in the window. She saw them sitting on the couch. The woman had her head on her boyfriend’s lap. She looked scared.

She smiled.

She returned to her car and grabbed her 9mm. She walked up to the front door of the woman’s house. Her boyfriend opened the door. He looked surprised. He smiled.

She shot him in the chest.

Blood pooled on his shirt. He fell forward. She stepped over his body and entered the woman’s house. The woman screamed and began to run away. She shot her in the back. Point blank. In her head.

She smiled.

All those lessons at the gun range paid off. She was able to hit a moving target. Her instructor would be impressed.

She took her fingers and dipped them in the woman’s blood and wrote one word on the wall.

Mine.

 

This post was inspired by the Daily Prompt. The word was territory.

 

Want to keep in touch? You can find me on social media at the following links:  Twitter @mskeeinmd, Facebook page A Thomas Point of View and my Instagram page https://www.instagram.com/mskeeinmd/.

Baggage Check: Racism

So, the other day I received a comment on my post Dear White People that needed to be approved. I read the comment and sent that garbage to spam. Why? Because this is my blog and I don’t allow your BS or baggage on it. Writer’s prerogative.

I go check out the page of the person and was shocked that WordPress even allows this foolishness here:  https://vikingstrongman.wordpress.com/. This person is a white supremacist talking that racist BS that will destroy America and allow you the anonymity that you can claim in cyber world. Let me be clear, I don’t do racism or white supremacy. Not in real life or in cyberspace.

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He’s referring to blacks as niggers. Really? So, it takes a real man to hide in cyberspace and try to fuel the hate in so many people. Be authentic in your hate. Show your face. Spread your hate without a white robe.

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Let me be clear…I am about the inclusiveness of all people and no race is better than another. We were all created by one God and are descendants of Adam and Eve. I don’t care who you voted for (because I serve a Heavenly Father) and I will not allow people to disrespect me or my space. If you want to blame everything going on in the world on everyone else then check yourself.

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I don’t fear terrorists from other countries when we raise more terrorists in America than those that enter our borders. The face of terrorism to me is not brown. Take your hatred of all those that seek peace and kick rocks. We will not go quietly in the night.

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This election has allowed those white supremacists to show their true colors and think that it is acceptable to disrespect people of color. It is not. I will not allow you to come for me or my family. I will not allow you to disrespect any group that I support (women, children, men, veteran’s, the LGBQT family, people of color or any other group). We are one. United we stand.

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Confused

What? Where am I? What is the place?

I feel the damp and dank smell of a basement. Unwashed clothes and mold attack my senses. My hands are tied. Breathe.

I keep telling myself to breathe. I was confused.

In and out. Breathe. Focus. I need to focus.

Remember what you can.

How did you get here? What were you doing last?

Breathe and remember.

I remember being at the church mixer. The singles group had an event for all singles looking to make a Christian connection. It was boring. I remember standing by the punch bowl wishing it had vodka in it.

A handsome young man came over and introduced himself. He said his name. What was his name? Focus. What was his name?

Greg!

Greg, that was his name!

He made me laugh by echoing my thoughts exactly. Don’t you wish you had some vodka for this punch? It would truly lighten up the party. Do you know where they keep the communion wine?

I laughed. He was funny. He talked to me about why he came here. His family. His dreams. The only child of a retired preacher. He was an avid missionary. He went on missions all the time and had only been back in town a week. His dad was a member of the church. He had told him about tonight’s mixer.

He laughed when he said that his parents supported his missionary work,but wanted him to settle down with a nice girl and give them some grandchildren. He loved building houses in Haiti, teaching children how to read in Guatemala or digging water wells throughout sub-Saharan Africa.

I liked him. I smiled. He asked me about my boring life. I was an only child too. My parents thought me an old maid. Were harassing me to get married too. I just finished my Master’s degree and was a teacher. I loved teaching. I loved children.

He smiled. He invited me out for drinks at the restaurant around the corner. I agreed. He was gorgeous. Nice suit. Nice smell.

His scent. What was that scent? I love that scent.

It was Sandalwood. I loved that scent on a man.

I remember the restaurant was lively. We sat and talked for hours. We ordered our last drink. I remember having to go to the restroom. I came back and finished up my drink. He walked me to the car.

We talked. We laughed. We exchanged numbers. We made plans for dinner the next night.

He opened my car door. I got inside. He closed the door.

What happened next?

Oh God! I can’t remember. 

I start to panic. Tears are streaming from my face. The door at the top of the stairs opens. I hear footsteps. I can’t see who it is yet.

It was Greg!

Greg walks down the stairs. Slowly. He’s naked.

What is that in his hands?

A knife. He’s holding a knife. Oh my God!

Help me God! I silently pray.

He climbs on top of me and whispers in my ear. “You think you’re so pretty. So smart.”

Tears continue to roll down my face.

The tip of the blade punctures my side.

I’m no longer confused.

I know that I’m going to die.

 

 

 

This post was written as part of the Daily Prompt. The word is confused