Oh my!! I feel so...so...babied! Thanks everyone! I do have to wonder though, did anyone catch my attempt at humor? You all sounded so serious in your sympathy. Except Kim, of course.
I'm good, really. I'm not dying, A), and 2) if you haven't noticed by now, I have a bit of a proclivity towards drama. Oh, you did notice?
Feeling a hundred percent better today and wanted to share my afternoon, real quick like, since it's three chocolate martinis past my bedtime. It was my BBF (best boy friend)'s birthday tonight, so there was a little celebratin' going on, amidst the kickASS near-shut-out by the Phillies. But more on that later.
Today I joined some of my book club ladies and we had lunch downtown with Ann Rule. Yes, the Ted Bundy Ann Rule. Well, we didn't exactly sit at her table or anything...but after an hour or so in line, she did write "Happy Halloween" in my very own copy of Too Late To Say Goodbye. And she was so nice, and so personable. But that wasn't the real highlight of the luncheon.
It was sponsored by the Pierce County Sexual Assault Center . There was a woman who told her life story, beginning with psychological and emotional abuse by her mother, followed by sexual abuse by her grandfather, promiscuity, drugs and alcohol as a teen and a brutal rape as a college student. I was floored. I couldn't take my eyes off this 20-something woman who had lived a lifetime of horror in half the time I've been living my privileged, relatively trauma-free life.
I am inspired now to follow up on her story, to see how I might be able to get more involved. I have discovered, simply through blogging, that there are millions of women out there looking to support and be supported...we can all come together if we make the effort. I "met" a woman the other day on my blog who was facing the prospect of breast cancer in remote Montana, with no one around to share her fear. I found out today that her results came back negative and I felt like I had received the news from a good friend.
That's the power of connection and community. That's the gift of not being alone when the news comes, or when all the shit hits the fan at once. Imagine! Me sitting here all sniffly and whiny, and before I know it, I've got sympathy coming out my ears. People wanting to bring me soup AND wipe my drool.
Imagine that power when the trauma is real.