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artist Romy Nayar; Spain/France

artist Romy Nayar; Spain/France

These two pieces touched me the most. If I’ve gotten any of the information wrong in these posts, I’ll fix it when I’m aware of it.

artist Romy Nayar; Spain/France

artist Romy Nayar; Spain/France

personal ~ warning: possible tmi

On the One Billion Rising in Second Life website there’s an invitation to leave a comment about “Why I’m Rising.” No way was I going to do that. I blog about stuff I do in Second Life and places I visit. That’s all.

I’ve been burnt out from causes and I don’t have much “pushing against” energy left although I do make thoughtful choices. When I became aware of this project in Second Life, first I was surprised, partly because of all the awful attitudes and behavior I’ve witnessed in the roleplay community.

Then I noticed I wasn’t finding any of the usual objections that I have about what I see as misguided “fights against whatever.” Dancing is healthy and moves energy. Art and music are healing.

I visited the OBR preview this afternoon and later briefly looked at the “Why I’m Rising” page on the website and became aware that I’m too afraid to write anything there. I’ll tuck this away here where by persistence and chance someone might see it. I’ll possibly edit this out later.

I’ve experienced the harassment at work and the humiliations that are part of life that we’re supposed to just shut up about. I’m aware of the violence that goes on in the world.

But two things I want to mention:

1. The effects of having had concussions and ptsd are something I live with every day.  The way people look at me because I startle so easily. When I’m struggling with cognitive problems and neurological difficulties, I can become terrified about inconveniencing someone or angering them because I’m so inept and they might freak out and become violent.

2. Both of my younger sisters are dead. The oldest of the two would have a birthday this coming Tuesday. She was raped in our very small hometown where that really isn’t a big deal, nothing was done about it and no one seemed to care.

I left my job and home to care for her in another state during the last six months of her life, with the help of hospice. There are other reasons, known and unknown, why things came together for her to suffer from cancer but having something so horrible happen and find that it doesn’t matter, does takes a toll. It’s hard to keep going in a world that doesn’t feel safe. She had rarely spoken of the incident or the fact that the rapist is still walking around but she wanted to talk about it during the last week of her life.

The sad thing is, there’s absolutely nothing unusual or unique about what I just wrote. It’s got a lot to do with why I’m so determined to choose to live as though what happens to me matters, to do what I can with what I have.