only the jodi

A search for simplicity, sobriety, compassion, & the right man. Or at least not another wrong man.
March 3rd, 2010

thirty years later…

I had to take a little time off from the “other” blog, from writing in general. I’d written about the rape. Again. It’s hard. I was going to say You don’t know what you take from us when you rape us. But, I’d be speaking to people who either don’t care – those who rape on uncontrollable instinct, who feel entitled; or to those who do care – those who rape with the intent of breaking our soul – pimps, mercenaries, warriors.

The rape I wrote about was almost thirty years ago. I think I should be over it already. But, apparently, I’m not.

It was not my first. I was in a blackout the first time and only put the pieces together afterwards. It probably wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t been drunk enough to black out. But I was. It did. And I don’t remember the details. Blackouts are a mixed blessing that way.

And truthfully, the blackout is only the first time I can bear to think about. What came before are scattered puzzle pieces, each belonging to a different puzzle picture.

The rape I wrote about wasn’t even the last time I was attacked. Statistics show that once a person is raped, molested, assaulted, the chance of it happening again, rises. Here are some statistics.

Every 2 minutes, someone in the U.S. is sexually assaulted.

  • 1 in 3 American women will be sexually assaulted in her lifetime.
  • 1 in 4 college women have either been raped or suffered attempted rape.
  • 1 in 7 women will be raped by her husband.
  • 1 in 12 males students surveyed had committed acts that met the legal definition of rape. 84% said what they’d done was definitely not rape.
  • Only 16% of rapes are reported to the police.
  • Only 6% of rapists will spend a day in jail.

FAIL: The United States has the world’s highest rape rate of the countries that publish such statistics. It’s 4 times higher than Germany, 13 times higher than England, and 20 times higher than Japan.

Survivors of sexual assault are:

Stop it, okay? Just fucking stop it.

Statistics from: RAINN.org and Coalition Educating About Sexual Endangerment (CEASE)

August 15th, 2009

donuts : the great equalizer

Someday’s I’m a pancake, but as long as I flip before I burn, it’s all good.

I was driving in to the city this morning, on my way to do all kinds of good & spiritual things and getting all kinds of cranky because of road construction on the BQE, also known as New York’s perpetual construction zone. Sooner or later the construction has to wind up at your exit, today was my day, and at certain points, all three lanes merged into one.

And then that one single lane, stopped.

A wiry little construction worker, in the requisite neon orange vest and dark roadwork tan waved a SLOW sign, then flipped it to STOP. Traffic stopped, backed up, and we waited — until the man carrying two dozen Dunkin’ Donuts crossed the road — Read the rest of this entry »

August 11th, 2009

peeing on my own leg

I’ve had to let go of resentments that aren’t in my best interest. I’m not sure any resentment is ever in my best interest. What’re those sayings? Resentments are like taking poison and waiting for your enemy to die? Or like peeing on your own leg–no one feels it but you?

Two years ago I was turned down for a graduate education program, a blessing in disguise. I’ve been told my whole life that I look like a school teacher, but I do not, repeat, do not have the skills or temperament. It’s a case of wanting to want.

I want to want to be a teacher. I think I should. I shouldn’t. Really. I shouldn’t. But I forget.

I wasted a week in anger this past month trying to force the admissions office to tell me why they rejected me, two years ago. I went on a wild goose chase to a handful of different officials, each one pointing me towards someone else until I was back where I started.

I got aggressive and sarcastic.

They stopped returning my emails.

What was that all about? I’m in a graduate program for something I love.

I want control.
I’m not working, my life is in flux & the need for control rears it’s ugly head. Big time.
I think I need to know everything, need to run every show.

When I was as kid and the phone rang, I’d race to get it. Frequently, my dad beat me to it. Afterwards when I asked, he wouldn’t tell me who it’d been. He did that too, on family outings. I’d be told only to get my coat, but not where we were going. Drenched in the cold sweat of my absolute powerlessness, drowning in the fear and panic of having no control over where I was going, those trips were excruciating. It didn’t happen every time, just often enough.

I don’t know if he withheld this arbitrary information out of petty meanness or he thought it was funny, if it fed his need for control or if he was simply trying to teach me to chillax and overcome the obsessive need I had to control something, anything, everything. Probably some combo platter, but it felt mean.

I still struggle with needing to know everything & having to run the show. Really, I need to accept that I’m never even going to know most things and the “show” generally runs perfectly well without my help.

I got an email last week. Graduate applications are destroyed after that particular semester begins. I spent all that time and energy, all that anger, trying to force people to look at something that no longer exists.

Everything in life is a lesson. Everything. The best I can hope for is to get the lesson the first time so I don’t have to keep replaying the same tapes, four times, five times and on and on.

This was not my first lesson about powerlessness and resentment, but it only lasted a week, so it I’m down to the Cliff Notes versions, rather than the Encyclopedia Britannica.

TELL ME: What lessons do you struggle with, find that you keep repeating? Which ones are you glad to be done with? Post your thoughts below. Talk to me