Speaking Out Without a Tongue

I was having this conversation with Rose a while ago and it struck a chord. I saved the conversation but couldn't quite put my finger on why in that moment. I think I've figured it out. Predator, Abuser, Narcissist. To a degree these titles sensationalize the person committing these acts of abuse. They're often painted in TV and movies as big, physically intimidating, traditionally attractive individuals. I understand that being the route to take if you're trying to tell a story in an hour time slot, and there are certainly abusers out there that fit that description, but there are also many more that don't. Most people who were raised female can point to a time that they realized they had to be alert to potential physical threats. We're taught to watch for the guy who stares a little too long while we play mermaids at the pool. When we turn 16 we're told to check the back seat before getting in the car. At 21 we're cautioned to always cover ...

Wedding rings have been part of marriage for a long time. There's records in both ancient Roman and Egypt of wedding bands being exchanged and worn. They have always been a symbol of something everlasting and unbroken. We wear them on the left ring finger because it was once believed there was a vein that ran directly from there to the heart. They're supposed to serve as an outward communication of an inward commitment.  In my relationship it's purpose was warped into a tool of abuse... Summer 2017 I had just moved to be with him. I left my parents. My hometown. My nieces. My job. The only life I'd ever known.  We had discussed before I moved that I wanted him to understand that if I moved states for him, it meant we were serious and on the marriage track.  He took the opportunity to propose the day after I moved. I wasn't ready, but he arranged this whole big production (that's a blog for another day) and I didn't feel like I could say "no" or ...

"He won't stop. He'll do it again. Find someone new. Younger. More naive. Less connected. Someone he can isolate" I hate being right sometimes... I said this the day the divorce was finalized. And that's exactly what is happening. I hadn't looked in a long time. I couldn't do anything about it. It wouldn't serve any purpose. But then... I shouldn't have looked. But I did.  Turns out knowing conceptually that he would destroy another's life is a very different beast from seeing her face and knowing her name. Seeing how he is using the same tactics nearly verbatim. And knowing exactly how those tactics will turn on her. Their wedding website was fair game. And her story is heartbreaking to read through my eyes. She wasn't interested in a serious relationship. Now she's preparing to move halfway across the country to him. He told her "when you know you know". He said it to me too. When you want to believe ...

I have a riddle for you! What do being a badass, being smart, and being a man who deeply loves his wife all have in common?  Give up? The answer is if you genuinely possess any of these qualities, they go without saying. Have you ever heard someone EXPLAINING why they're smart and had it genuinely change your mind as to their level of intelligence? Or did you walk away from those situations thinking "they really want people to THINK that they're smart"?  Now if you're a millennial who has spent any amount of time on YouTube, you probably have stumbled across a Try Guys video or a John Mulaney stand up routine, and you probably see where I'm headed with this. If not, the condensed version for our purposes is that both John Mulaney and Ned Fulmer of the Try Guys built brands based largely on being the loveable, wholesome "wife guy".  They constantly talk about how much they love their wife. How beautiful their wife is. How they worship thei...

There is a word so dirty, so divisive, it brings  conversation to a stand still.  It's not to be brought up at family events.  It's a shameful thing not discussed in polite circles. Thankfully I was never big on polite conversation, and cancer squashed any sense of shame I had.  I'm talking about disability.  More specifically Social Security disability. Did you know July is disability pride month? I didn't until this year, but seeing as the 30th of July is also the anniversary of my surgery, this seemed timely. I was raised in your typical conservative Midwest hometown, hearing plenty of opinions. That people on disability just didn't want to work. That they wanted to do nothing but mooch off the rest of our hard earned money. That they used the money on drugs and alcohol. That if they dressed nicely, or indulged in small pleasures then surely they didn't need it THAT badly.  But I've realized that a lot of these opinions were formed without a good working...

July 16, 2019 ... 3 years out and I can still hear the sterile paper crinkle beneath me 3 years out and can still smell latex and antiseptic  3 years out and I can still feel my clammy hands shoved under my thighs to not betray me by shaking 3 years since my world imploded. ... My parents picked me up to go straight from the daycare. I didn't even change clothes. I smelled like sweat and baby formula. We rode in silence to the ENT office. I sat in the high-backed black leather exam chair. They had called to say they have an answer. They knew why I had been in so much pain. They knew why I was suddenly losing weight without trying. Why it hurt to eat.  I knew something wasn't right. But as the doctor sat down and started talking it felt like trying to listen to a radio station that just won't come in clearly. "...unusual... ... Carcinoma... ... aggressive... ... already spoken with... ...surgery scheduled... Indianapolis... ... studied under... ..radiation.....