And, what did you die from?

You've read that article too, haven't you? "No one DIES from suicide. He/she died from depression."

Well, shut your mouth! I did not know that! Here I was thinking cut wrists caused death. Meanwhile, all along, he died from being sad. One second he was talking about disappointment and heartbreak, next thing you know; KAPOW! Spontaneous sad-splosion. Pieces of his soul were splattered everywhere. Police found dried blood on his emotional wall, which he could never break through. Poor fella.
He left behind only one item; his diary. Last page states, "Goodbye, sad world. If you're reading this, I've either died from sad-splosion or my sadness was so immense that my hands fell off and I became a leper. Don't blame yourselves, nor the rope I am dangling from. It's just bad timing. Funny story, actually. Remind me to tell you about it sometime. Just kidding!"

This is my favourite statement. Next to, "Guns don't kill, people kill."
True. The gun was all like, "Be cool, now. Let's talk this over. I don't want to start no trouble."
You know how weapons are. They keep chill under pressure.

Sorry- just a little gallows humour.
~Gallows don't kill people, racist Southerners kill people.~

Thing is, I know society needs to discuss depression. I realize it's a hot button, a sexy topic. But why are we still terrified of the s-word? That is, "Superfluous". I mean, I get it, it can be a tricky word to get used to. All those random U's and whatnot, but it's a really good word.
Oh, and also "suicide". That's another word that's taboo.
What good is that? We already love discussing mental disorders. That's already a big thing. Autism and OCD and ADD and PTSD and N64....
But, that's already out there. It's being talked about. People are getting braver about admitting and accepting that they have depression. Which is great! It's a major accomplishment for the little minds of our time. However, what's not being talked about is suicide. People will use any word, any excuse, anything to avoid that topic. Why? Because we don't get it. No one can speak with certainty. It's easy to say, "She was depressed. I know depression. I get why she's depressed, I know that feeling, and I know what we can do to help her."
However, with suicide, ain't no one got a clue!
We can guess and try things and whimper and moan, but at the end of the day, once someone's dead - le poof! You are too late. There's no reversing that, "I hate you. Go die." You regret saying that now, don't ya? Thought so.

How's about we talk about suicide? How's about we stop holding onto it like it's our "special" child. When we discuss him, everyone has to cover their ears, lest we offend or use the wrong words. That we say something insensitive, or, ohgod, make a JOKE! Don't you go laughing 'bout suicide. Nothing funny about that. Because, you know, you could be next.
Suicide is coming for you next, boy!

"One day I done sat here fer 'bout a hour forty-five. That's when I done seen it! It come right down along here with its lights and sounds, and I swears, it lands right next to me. As close to me as you're standing now. Well, I run to the barn and tells my wife, Susie. I tells her suicide's coming for us. I knew it would come, and it come. I got my shotgun, but by the time I get out there, they already done suicided my little girl. I says, " WHY!? Why you done suicided my little girl?" She just lay there; gun in hand, hole in head. Dead because of that damn suicide! Do not tread on me, suicide. Ya'll hear me? DO NOT TREAD ON ME! You go tell the president, you tell the governor, you tell Al Gore, we will not stand for this! We will not be defitted!"

You know how it goes.

But that's how it is. That's where we are right now. We are still terrified of discussing the matter, and it just grows and grows. Young people, old people. They see it, they know it's out there, and it tempts them. They have no idea what it feels like or looks like. They don't know what they're getting into, because no one ever talked about. Everything else was to blame, so it seems like no one has ever felt like them. Other people have been depressed, that's easy to talk about and sort out, but the only people who felt suicidal are now dead. They seem content!

That's not true, though. We know that's not the case. People survive suicide! Many people regret the choice they made. Others felt it was the best option for them. There's no way of hearing about it if everyone is too scared to touch the topic. They're made to feel guilty and weak and stupid; being told how they must feel, what they must do now.

We hide those people away and drug them up, so no one will ever know what they did and went through. Society is in trouble, we're making some big mistakes. So, don't be scared to talk about it. Don't shy away from the jokes and the questions. "How", "Why", "What"... these are the things we must find out and hear about. That's the only way we can begin to understand it, begin to prevent it, and most important, begin to treat these feelings. Not just teach people to resist any urges or "keep going because it gets better" (stupid fools), but to teach people how to overcome these urges. How to accept life again. And, if someone doesn't want to or can't, we have to learn HOW to let them go and how to deal with the aftermath. There's a way of cleaning up the wreckage without covering it with layers and layers of dirt. I want to see more dead bodies laying around, I SAY!

Or... something like that. Let's learn.

Commit? Sure, I can com

No. I can't. I can't commit. Schools, homes, jobs, relationships, plans, city, state, country... I don't want any of it.
It's not a conscious decision, like, "Hey- I'm going to accept this and ditch last second because I'm a jerk-wad!"
It's more like, "Ooh- that sounds great! Yes!! .... huh. Ya know, I don't think I can do this anymore. Nope. Can't."

And that sooks. SO BAD! A human being needs stability and the willingness to make things stick and work. The patience to find a passion for what they are doing and return to it each day. Hopefully, out of pleasure, not necessity. Sometimes, however, it is out of necessity, such as a job.
Maybe that's the problem, there are few things in life that I HAVE to do.

*Fills up shopping basket with stuff (i.e. food, clothing, stuff I need....)*
"erm. I don't really need this stuff..."
*empties basket and leaves*

This is an uncommon problem in society, an ignored one. As, typically, one sticks with something for more than a short period of time, because they said they would do it. Like it or not, consequences or not, most people will do something because they said they would.

Others of us are so stubborn, so sickeningly anxiety-ridden at the idea of committing to something they don't want to do, that they can physically become ill and find a way out. I myself have experienced this. A psychosomatic reaction to commitment. Normally, such things will take time. One might be so stressed by work that they find themselves in pain and must leave. Incredibly, there are those of us who can have the same reaction within days or HOURS! We might not even make it to the occasion.

There's only so long a person can thrive this way. Eventually, people walk away, jobs run out, and a person gets left behind. Not permanently, I hope. There are just spaces of time where there are no more options. No more things to cancel or quit. This can lead to feelings of inadequacy, inability... depression! Not THE depression, as there is reason and logic to it. Depression, nonetheless. General sadness; boredom, even.

How can the non-committal type learn to commit? Is it possible at all? I couldn't say for certain. It's especially interesting because, for me, personally, punctuality is very important. This being the case, you'd think I would hate the idea of unexpectedly backing out of things. Au contraire! Backing out avoids the task of being on-time. The stress of being early. Or, that could be a way I justify it to myself. We do that, as well. We find ways, unconsciously, to justify our unreliability. Our flakiness.

The term "flaky" has a stigma, does it not? Of course it does. It should! We're kind of jerks. We inconvenience people immensely. However, it's not out of irresponsibility or feelings of superiority. Well, that might be the case for some people.... In my experience, however, it's been an unconquerable fear and anxiety. As angry, hurt, or annoyed as the recipient will be, the one who is feeling the heaviness of anxiety is just as miserable. Again, that has been my experience. The loneliness and guilt that follows is beyond words.

I don't explain this infliction as an attempt to excuse these behaviours. Simply, to share a new view that most people don't understand. It doesn't just apply to any particular type of person, or just flaking out of plans, but it applies elsewhere in one's life. If someone transfers schools a lot or changes majors. If someone feels a constant need to move or travel. If you see a person who always seems to have a new job or a new beau; be aware. Be ready for an unreliable friend. This is not to say you should avoid these people, they may truly be trying, they may truly care. It's simple another personality trait. Just like the kleptomaniac or the incessant liar. They don't mean to be the horrible person they seem to be. It's this urge that bubbles and boils inside you until you can't control your words or actions any longer. You try to do the right thing and make the right choice, but next thing you know, you find yourself in the same unpleasant position you have a million times before. Forgive us, please. Don't let us ruin your life, of course. Be aware of our misdeeds and challenges. But don't write us off. We will be the first ones to understand and accept your flaws. Remember that.

I am curious whether there is a correlation between those who have this trait and those who have experienced an unstable childhood.

It's funny - I lived in the same house, went to the same school, and was surrounded by the same people most of my childhood. You'd expect that to imply stability. However, there was also much disarray. No rules, no schedule, nothing in my household or my life was set. People were late, bedtime was non-existent, and getting in trouble was a matter of whether or not someone was around to discipline you. Which was uncommon. Unless, of course, the timing was just right. There was certainly no certainty, nothing was absolute. Dinner was whenever food was ready, we got to school late practically everyday, and we did our homework around midnight or later. There was little order or sanity. So, commitment was unnecessary! I joined every team and club, I quit every team and club. No one cared. I never studied, never had a tutor. Well, we hired tutors, but I never went to them. There was a lot of pain and suffering as my parents tried to get me TO the tutor, but the next day, things went back to "normal".

But anyway, as you can see, I wasn't raised to commit. No one ever said I HAD to do anything. So, as soon as soon as something got unpleasant or hard, I could simply walk away from the situation. Unless it was a sibling beating, that was something one had to endure. The good news is, I am tough as a rhinoceros nowadays! See? Balance!

Upon reading further on the topic of commitment-phobia, I came across the term, "self-absorbed" a lot. Saying that people facing this disorder are self-absorbed and focus only on their own care and comfort, as opposed to the people they affect. While this is true to some extent; the individual cancels or breaks promises in order to ease his or her own discomfort, I think there is too much focus on this.
There are many negative ways I might describe myself, but to say I am self-absorbed in any way is highly judgmental and inaccurate. I do what I can to avoid inconveniencing people, as do most people with the same infliction. We do not aim to hurt. Sometimes, that comes with the territory, but we are aware of it at ALL times. It probably encompasses our thoughts more than the annoyance of commitment does! That is why we feel so guilty, that is why we are so depressed! Not because WE missed out or are bored or disappointed, but because we know what we did to others. How we let them down and made them feel unimportant. That is the worst part of it all. So, please, do not confuse our disorder for our self-indulgence. I am sure some commitment-phobes are indeed completely self-involved, but do not place such a cruel word and trait unto us all. It's simply not true.

Let's talk taboo

In the past 30 days, 4 people who meant a great deal to me have committed suicide. That is four. Four lives gone. Off the face of this planet, as far as we know or are concerned. How do we explain this? How do we provide closure and understanding? We do not. We cannot.

Barbara Richardson
Anthony Sandi
Jonny Ryall
Robin Williams

All four are now dead because they could not tolerate life. They could not find joie de vivre, nor anything to make-up for the misery or challenges they faced. Therefore, they ended it.

These names should not be forgotten. I want them written out, said, seen, and heard.
Because suicide is evidence of how selfless humans are.

Yeah.

How can you say suicide is selfish, but not credit those of us who are living to be selfless? To some extent, this is logical, is it not?

Not that I believe there is anything wrong with the selfishness of suicide. If anyone is going to decide when you die, it should be you! If you choose one time to be selfish, why not make it the time you can conclude your own story? Seems only fair to me!

Q: Does this mean I condone suicide?

A: I do not.

As a matter of fact, I beg you not to consider it. Not for a moment. Not for half a moment.
As I have now been hurt by the act 4 times, I can certainly say it hurts like all heck. Nothing gets better! Sure, you don't have to deal with your problems, but WE do, and that is the worst thing you can do to someone else. To lay that all on someone else is cruel. Albeit, it alleviates your pain.... Just, be aware; your loved ones will suffer. They will suffer more than you could possibly comprehend.

Will I look at you with disgust and shame if you are contemplating it? I would not be such a hypocrite.

As a person experienced in the thoughts and feelings of a suicidal mind, I know the only answer is to find help. Cliche, yes, but what else do you expect? A magical fairy to make life fair and easy and happy? Shut your face.

I guess the one member of this list that is most relatable, because we all know and love him, is Mr. Robin Williams. A God amongst comedians. The man we all want to be - at least, in character. What I fear most is, if Robin Williams; a man who has brought joy to millions across the globe, has a great career, lovely family, and such strength and intelligence - if even he could not and chose not to face another day; what hope do the rest of us have? What hope do I have?

There should be hope. I believe there always will be hope. But, do you see the conundrum we must face? The terrifying reality? Now, I know things didn't start out so simple for the man, and there were drugs involved, of course... but, why do you think that is?
Williams was a genius. Maybe he saw and knew too much for his own good...?

My other friends were equally as beautiful in heart and spirit. Wonderful musician, loving family person, delightfully charismatic and intelligent. The traits that make them each, individually incredible is endless.

What differs them from those of us who have less to offer in this realm?
I guess to answer that is to answer the question of the ages! The thing is, some people will never find joy or pleasure in this world. That may be called depression, that may be called awareness. After all, we do live in a world of emptiness.

Our lives are just buckets full of holes. Each day we fill them with things and stuff and people and whatever, but slowly everything drains out. We keep filling them; faster and faster. Convincing ourselves that they are just as full of flowers and bunnies as they were, but we will never fill them to the top. We will never be satisfied. Some people give up. Their arms ache, and they see no point in filling the bucket anymore. They know it will just empty out once again. They stop putting things inside. Eventually, their buckets fade away.

This is why I don't fill my bucket with pretty clothes and school papers. As a matter of fact, I like to sit in my bucket. How silly is that?

Sometimes I will sit down on a broken piece and get hurt. Other times, I will find something in the bucket that makes me smile. People will put things in my bucket from time-to-time. Good things, bad things, things I don't fully understand. But there's always something in there for me to explore. Not for the sake of filling empty space, but because, while learning more about my bucket, I learn more about other people and their buckets.

Some people may pass my bucket and think I look funny sitting there, or that I am wasting the space I have available, but I don't mind! Everyone must do with their bucket as they see fit.
Once in a while, someone will see me sitting there and they will put their bucket next to mine. We will chat or trade, or look inside each other's buckets. Scandalous, I know! It makes it all worth it, for whatever time we have together.
Buckets come and go, but mine is always under me. Grounded and safe. I like that.

Maybe if someone had helped those 4 people named above (go look at their names again) find a sturdy place to sit in their bucket, maybe their bucket would still be here. Instead of having been kicked into... well, who knows where?! Or maybe those buckets were worn out. They were kicked and dropped so many times that the hole grew bigger and bigger. So big that even when they sat in their own buckets, THEY drained out!

I wish I had known just how big their holes were. I would have tried to patch them. Then again, I'm not sure I have the right tools.
I will have to go out and buy stronger ones, and I hope you will, too.

Hole repair shopper's guide:

1 - Compassion, empathy, sympathy, patience, forgiveness
2 - A heart, a smile, a listening ear
3 - Breathing, hugging, kissing, hugging
4 - Music, art, dance, theatre, books
5 - Animal babies, human babies, flowers, sunrises
6 - Love, love, love, love.

Dream, Dream, Dream....

"I wish I had told her I loved her"
"I wish I had visited more often"
"I wish I had been nicer"
"I wish I had forgiven him"

We hear these phrases a lot when someone passes away. We always think we could have done more. If we had done more, the death would be less painful and we would have less regrets. Maybe we'll look like the suffering friend/daughter/lover/etc....

Or, maybe, is that what we just convince ourselves? The opportunity was there all along. Yet, in the end, you didn't follow-through. It's easy to say you wanted to or wish you had, but when you don't, you prove that you didn't want to. Not enough, not when the opportunity was available.

"Visiting more often" is easier and takes up less of your time when the person is gone. You can no longer be called on your bluff. You can no longer be the bad person who didn't visit enough. You don't have to deal with listening to his problems or sit down with her and work through the tough times. Now all you have to do is WISH you had.

You're not a bad person if you have been in this position. Reality is, humans get exhausted. Especially of one another, even the one's we love. Tasks can be daunting or make you feel vulnerable or hurt your pride, and some people, even if they pass away, didn't make it easy.

Wishing leads to guilt and more hurt. It reminds us repeatedly of how we wronged someone. Someone who very well may have done the same thing or made the same choice.

However, what if we could erase these wishes? Or, minimize them?

What if, throughout our lives, we acted like the person we wish we were? A writing professor once said to my class, regarding writing about our personal lives, "Write about someone as if they were dead. Especially your parents." By which she meant, don't limit what your criticism of someone or what stories you tell, out of fear. Fear that they will be embarrassed or angry, or just deny the truth. Write as if you have nothing to hide and nothing to be ashamed of.
Now, imagine we did that every day of our lives? We did the things we would regret not having done once someone is gone, or we ourselves die?? Imagine how much more we'd all live and love!

Woody Allen is often quoted and despised for speaking of the meaninglessness of life. He's an existentialist to the core! Most recently he was criticized harshly while promoting his new film "Magic in the Moonlight." The following are quotes from Allen that have been selected in many published pieces and attacked:

“I firmly believe, and I don’t say this as a criticism, that life is meaningless, I’m not alone in thinking this — there have been many great minds far, far superior to mine, that have come to that conclusion. And unless somebody can come up with some proof or some example where it’s not, I think it is. I think it’s a lot of sound and fury signifying nothing, and that’s just the way I feel about it.

I’m not saying that one should opt to kill oneself, but the truth of the matter is, when you think of it, every 100 years, there’s a big flush, and everybody in the world is gone. And there’s a new group of people. And that gets flushed, and there’s a new group of people. And this goes on and on interminably — and I don’t want to upset you — toward no particular end, no rhyme or reason.

And the universe, as you know from the best of physicists, is coming apart, and eventually there will be nothing, absolutely nothing. All the great works of Shakespeare, and Beethoven, and Da Vinci, all that will be gone. Now, not for a long time, but shorter than you think, really, because the sun is going to burn out much earlier than the universe vanishes, so you don’t have to wait for the universe to vanish. It’ll happen earlier than that. So all these plays and these symphonies, the height of human achievement, will be gone completely. There’ll be no time, no space, nothing at all. Just zero. That’s why over the years, I’ve never written or made movies about political themes. Because while they do have current critical importance, in the large scheme of things, only the big questions matter, and the answers to those big questions are very, very depressing. What I would recommend — this is the solution that I’ve come up with — is distraction. That’s all you can do! You get up, you can be distracted by your love life, by the baseball game, by the movies, by the nonsense. Can I get my kid into this private school? Will this girl go out with me Saturday night? Can I think of an ending for the third act of my play? Am I going to get the promotion in my office? All this stuff, but in the end the universe burns out. So I think it’s completely meaningless, and to be honest, my characters portray this feeling. Have a good weekend"


I may be the first person to defend Mr. Allen and his somewhat "Debbie Downer" view on life. I think it directly relates to the message I am trying to convey as I write this blog-a-doo today. The reality is, we all are going to be that guy or girl, sooner or later. The one who died after 80, 90, 100 years of distracting themselves and lying to themselves and everyone around them. This is the nature of living, to contradict, lie, and deny the inevitable downfall of us all. However, and here's where you can put down the razor, this is not reason to give up and end it all! Au contraire! Existentialism, the realization of the pointlessness of it all is a lesson in freedom! You have the freedom to change your entire persona and being and life. No one can dictate your life for you. There is no purpose for you to chase or meaning - that just sounds like an elephant in the room. What we learn from people like Woody is that you have NO other reason to be on this Earth, very little affect on what will be in 100, possibly even 20 years, so why fill all that time being a useless jerk? Why dwell and regret and hate? I get the feeling Woody wasn't being quite so cheery about the whole thing, but his message does not have to be as drab and morbid as every single journalist pegged it to be. He didn't tell you what to do with your meaningless life, he just said it was meaningless. Interpret as you may! It could be you who is the downer, after all, if negativity was all you got from this quote.

I also wonder, what would the reaction be if I had made these statements? Heck, I HAVE made these statements. You know what responses I get? "Wow, you're right." ... "You're so morbidly adorable!"
It's all positive. It's all light and agreeable. I will leave you on that note. Think it over. Have a few drinks and talk it over. You're welcome.

The Downfall

There is never peace.
Whether it be your personal life, social life, or political life... there's an ongoing war. Just when you stop and say, "This is the answer. The solution to this set of problems. Nothing can go wrong." that's when another rocket goes off. You find yourself being pointed at and yelled at and blamed, whether you were the perpetrator or the victim. Oftentimes, we are both.

We live our everyday lives thinking we have things planned out, that the love you take is equal to the love you make.... We have our friends and family and this life that, just, works! That's such a great feeling. Yet, even when things are going so swimmingly, we find our problems. We have this innate urge to find trouble. If challenges were heat-seeking missiles, most of us would light ourselves on fire.

This is not a bad trait or an abnormal one, simply the nature of being alive. Relationships, work, school, travel... whatever your path, there will be, there must be, and there always will be conflict. Sometimes internal, and other times, external. The world can seem to be against your happiness and comfort. Then there are times when everything and its mama is going your way! 'Tis the nature of the beast. The beast is the heartbeat. The beast is the blood flow.

When I travel, I look to find how different cultures fight back and cope, and how they hurt. I think there are three universal answers to any crisis: religion, rebellion, and retaliation.

Religion can be a terrible response. When you live amongst murder and hatred and pain, religion can be a great excuse to pull out a weapon and say, "This is what I was told to do by God/Mohammed/angels!" It can be a cathartic solution to some.  Sickening as that may be, this is how some groups/individuals find their peace. That is not to say, on the other hand, that religion has no healing powers. I don't believe it works in a metaphysical way, but a very natural and, even, scientific way. It can soothe masses of people with its focus on inner-peace and mantras. Gospel and hymns can be very positive influences on the body and mind. Heck, you can go into a large, beautiful room and speak of everything that is pressing you at the moment. Whether it be sins or challenges, those doors welcome you and allow you to release. Bullets from the mouth to the sturdy walls, instead of steel bullets to the chest.

Rebellion is a risky choice, as well. Rebellion is absolutely necessary. It is how the world continues to thrive. It's how cultures and civilizations and any possible system you can think of in history made it... or didn't. Rebellion in most societies is what set the people free from fascism, dictatorship, injustice, and lack of general righteousness. Methods vary, however. Protests, rallies, demos, parties, lectures, sit-downs, stand-ups, starvation, screaming, silence, bombing, hugging... endless options are available for those who wish to send a message. The simplest form of expressing dissent is found everywhere: graffiti.

Graffiti is illegal in most places, of course, so what finer way to express frustrations and qualms with "the man"? Realistically, most of these vandals aren't in the game to be heroes or change the world. They just want their name "Homieslize bizznezz" on some wall. This is their claim to fame, their art for the purpose of posterity.
Then you have the artists who use their art and words to inspire youth and every onlooker who may eye the work. Words like "Eat the Rich" and "Revolt" are found in every country across the world.
I find it incredible how methods and messages such as these can reach the entire world, yet we still all see ourselves as so different from one another.

Retaliation kind of sums up both these options, as well as every other response. It is the most brutal option and has the most victims. We are all swayed by the beautiful model of what's "fair", what's justice, what's "getting even". Revenge! The code of Hammurabi was one of the earliest displays of this. Law #196. "If a man destroy the eye of another man, they shall destroy his eye. If one break a man's bone, they shall break his bone. If one destroy the eye of a freeman or break the bone of a freeman he shall pay one mana of silver. If one destroy the eye of a man's slave or break a bone of a man's slave he shall pay one-half his price."

Those who have been wronged salivate for revenge. But who or what is the true moral compass? Does anyone have the purity to say others deserve punishment? It seems easiest to cast stones upon others when we ourselves know we are deserving of them ourselves.
I may not have been caught committing my sin, but it is almost certain I have committed, at very least, one act of poor judgment, myself.
This topic gets into an entirely different philosophical conundrum, however. Involving the legal system and what have you.... All that aside, retaliation is probably the oldest form of catharsis, along with other emotional divulgences.

On a personal note, what this is all relates to in my own life is how I've seen my own obstacles turn from hurt into one (or more) of the three Rs. Recently, I came to a high point in my life. Details aside, things were happening for me that I did not think possible. Good things. Great things! I had an inkling it would not last forever - that was when, only a couple months later, all that was good began to dissolve. I'm not going to claim it was an utter travesty and my soul will never recover, but things began to roll downhill at an unexpectedly quick pace.
As far as I know, that's done. The boulder has hit a ledge and is resting for now. My reaction is still heating up, though. I don't see religion coming into play here. I won't assume karma will take care of things, nor will any force make everything all better again. I can't rely on that. Rebellion? I suppose I could fight my case and reveal the truth and hurt everyone involved. It won't fix anything, but it might give me a sense of accomplishing something. Of standing up for myself... maybe? Or, I could retaliate.

Is anybody listening!?

Have you, you, reader, been following the Cecily McMillan case? Most people have not. Most people don't know about it and its significance to every individual - as women, as Americans, and/or as humans.

Let's start with the basics - who is Cecily McMillan and what is her deal?

Cecily McMillan is a 25-year-old individual. She has been politically active for over a decade — most notably in the Democratic Socialists for America, the anti-Scott Walker mobilization, and Occupy Wall Street. She is a New School graduate. On March 17, 2012, Cecily attended a St. Patrick's day party. Not a protest, mind you, simply a day of celebration and fun. Before her outing, she dropped by our beloved Zuccotti Park, just to quickly pick up a friend. Soon after, police evacuated the park. As Cecily complied and departed, she was sexually assaulted by a cop. She was seized from behind and her breast was grabbed with such force, that a large bruise was left (there is photographic evidence of this.) Understandably, Cecily was startled by the action and her arm flew back, into the face of the cop; her attacker. She was then thrown to the ground where she was kicked and beaten to the point of seizures. She was then denied medical care.

Some may say this is a biased storytelling, that there is always another side to every story... and, maybe so, but the case that followed these actions put great strain on the belief in this concept. It did not allow for her side to be fairly told. Unfortunately, Cecily's case turned her into the attacker, she was not a victim in the least. Cecily is being accused of Felony Assault of a Police Officer. This is a charge that carries up to seven years imprisonment. In the two years that have followed these terrible events, Cecily's life has been reduced to continuous trials and a withering sense of humanity, strength, and justice.

What is my personal take on this whole situation? I think it may be rather obvious in what I've said so far how I feel about what took place and what Cecily is currently facing. I don't have the precise word for it. Sadly, in the state of today's world, I am not shocked by it. I have conflicting feelings. While I am devastated this poor woman has to deal with the trauma of sexual assault and physical damage, as well as having to face Riker's Island and whatever horrors she must, I am also rather glad. I am glad to see this case has become a staple point in the Occupy world. That the issues are being faced and fought. Cecily is not being left behind in the dust, there are people attending all her trials (100 Centre Street) and posting updates nearly daily. I truly hope this isn't simply a spectacle for more "rebels" and "radicals" to get behind in order to cast out and despise cops and courts and America. I think it has potential to be a revolutionary case. The kind protesting and disobedience cannot avoid, but through a wise jury and an effective judge, the judicial, political, and social world can be changed drastically. New insight and concerns will be risen and maybe good can still come of it.

As of today, May 19th, 2014 at 9.30 AM, Cecily has been sentenced to 90 days in prison and 5 years probation.

For more information, updates, ways to donate, contact Cecily, and/or help the cause, check out: http://justiceforcecily.com/

Renaissance

I lost it today. Completely and totally lost it. And I have never been prouder of myself.

When I was 16 years old, I was at the pinnacle of my loneliness. I had just moved to New Jersey, away from the people I had know my entire life. I was alone and sad all the time.

At that point, a gentleman suitor came into my life. It didn't occur to me at the time, but at 25, he was a pedophile. He didn't have any bad intentions, we just spoke on the phone. We only hung out in person a couple times, actually. Still, he was chasing someone 9 years younger - a minor.

Eventually, he ended up giving me a ring. It was a tiny silver ring with an itty bitty diamond, a custom shape, and 2 tiny rubies. It was sort of his way of "proposing". I don't think he intended to get married, though. He just wanted us to run away to a forest, have a million kids, and never communicate with anyone ever again.

I accepted.

I didn't intend to marry him, I didn't intend to run away with him, and I definitely didn't intend to abandon my family. But, at 16, this cool musician wanting me was flattering. I had no other guys in my life, so, heck, I figured I'd get my kicks from this love-hypnotized fella.

For MANY obvious reasons, nothing came of this. When I "broke it off", he threatened to kill himself. He made all kinds of claims. Finally, he moved to Florida and I didn't hear from him again (not until 5 years later.)

However, that skimpy ring remained on my finger. I switched which finger it was on, and it even went missing once or twice. However, inevitably, it would always show up again. I would make sure it did and I figured it would never go away. I clung to it and all it represented. When I was lonely, it reminded me that once, someone wanted nothing else in the world but me. It reminded me of an exciting part of my life. This was THE ring.

I have had many "rings" throughout my life. Sometimes it was art or dolls or whatever other assorted items that were mementos of good things that happened in my life. In some part of my mind, I recently realized, every time something good happened, I believed it was the last. I held onto unhealthy friendships and held onto useless STUFF because I didn't think I'd have another opportunity. If I lost these things and people, I would end up with nothing. For better or for worse, I had preferred the things I didn't want over having nothing. I felt that was the best I was going to get. It was all I deserved.

Recently, this has changed for me. Following the decision to become a regular at a bar near my college, my life began to evolve. For many, frequenting a bar becomes their downfall. For me, it has become my cocoon. I enter a timid 16 year old with no friends and masses of loneliness. Throughout the night, I open up to new people, new friendships, and a newfound empowerment. The friends I have made there have given me confidence in my ability to like and be liked. Even my outside relationships have improved. Previously, I assumed people were all the same, the moment I let them down or wasn't perfect, they'd run away. Turns out, not all people are this way. The people in my life right now are true and beautiful, loving people.

I've learned to tell people "no", and not to put up with abuse. This has led to me ridding of toxic relationships and discovering who the people I really want in my life are. Because of this, I don't find myself anxiously canceling plans or avoiding people. I have a whole cast, albeit, a crazy cast of friends I can adore. I absolutely cannot wait to see them and invite them places and be friends with them. It's a new sensation for me. I feel like a young girl whose discovered her first crush.

I had no idea I could be this happy with people. I always assumed I was naturally anti-social and introverted. I was destine to be alone and sad. Turns out, I was just wasting my efforts on the wrong people. My mind and body knew better, and all these years I've been ignoring the signs!

It's ridiculous and corny and almost unbelievable.

Honestly, I brag about having these friends! I mention them and include them every chance I get. No matter their vices and challenges, I am so proud of them. They each have their difficulties. We all do. But now I know I can have my flaws and they can have theirs, and we will still have this magical, incredible thing called 'friendship'.

I feel as if I've been given a second chance in life. A chance to be happy. Maybe it will last this time.

Sometimes I worry it's just a mania, and any day now, I'll fall down again and lose them all. Or, sometimes I think, I just haven't made the wrong mistake yet. I'll say or do the wrong thing and mess it all up again.

Something else makes me doubt that, though. I am really optimistic about everything right now.

I don't know if these friendships will last forever. Every relationship has its strain and can go wrong, but they also may not. I may be friends with these people for the rest of my life. I might watch them each get married and have children and I might be called "Auntie" or, at least be invited to his/her birthday parties. I'll be part of a group, a person with a definition. Not only remembered by my family for being their daughter or sister or niece, but loved by people who chose to love me and let me in their life. People who saw past my "quirkiness" and the way I blush at the most ridiculous things. The people who know what it feels like to love your dog more than anyone else in the world. People who will dance with you, even in the middle of the street or hug you and tease you, knowing you'll tease them right back. Not because they have to or because they're trying to play the part. Instead, because they are happy to see you and you are happy to see them, and you just can't be around these people without feeling a tingling in your heart. The only possible way to release the joy you feel is to laugh and smile and take pictures (as evidence that this is really your life - that this is really your experience! This is really happening to ME!)

Today, I lost that ring. I took it off at the gym, noticed an hour later, and didn't care enough to go back. I am realizing now how that ring would drive me nuts. I would fidget with it, it would slide around, it made it difficult to weight-lift and play guitar... it was constantly getting in the way. I kept it on because I was scared to let it go. I didn't know how I'd feel or what I'd do without it on my finger.

Now, I lost it... and I have no regrets.