grateful for the path

"I'm grateful that the path I have traveled, however twisted it may have seemed, brought me to where I am: right here, right now."

The above quotation was borrowed from a Facebook status posted by The Attitude of Gratitude Project some time back. I absolutely love the status messages that the page's creator posts. They remind me of the many things that I have to be grateful for, even (and especially) the little, seemingly unimportant things.

As a Reiki Master, I recite the Reiki Gokai, or principles, daily:

Just for today, I will live the attitude of gratitude.
Just for today, I will not worry.
Just for today, I will not anger.
Just for today, I will do my work honestly.
Just for today, I will show love and respect for every living being.

My practice keeps me grounded and in the moment. It allows me to approach each day as a new opportunity to do my best, regardless of the past day's happenings or what lies in the future. It helps me to remember that I can only control what is at hand and that it is, therefore, unproductive to get upset or angry about what I cannot control. And it aids me in my seemingly constant struggle against worry and fear.

Back to gratitude, now. It's not always easy to be grateful, especially for things that are unpleasant, sad, or painful. In my life, though, these are the very things that teach the most poignant lessons, bring the most fulfilling experiences, and supply the contrast needed to feel the positive emotions. Without them, the ups wouldn't be as high, I wouldn't know my true strength, and my friendships would be more shallow. Because of them, I am who I am and I am where I am.

I will be going to Florida at the end of this week for my Operation Freefall skydive and my now annual reunion with as many as my SOAR friends as possible. In preparation for the trip, I've spent hours on the phone and online with several of them, trying to figure out where we will be staying and what we will be doing. These friends are friends who know, accept, and love me in a special way. I feel alive when we are together. We don't speak enough. (Who really does?) I wish we lived closer. I wish we had more time together. I am truly grateful for these friends, and I realize that I wouldn't know them if it weren't for each of our negative past experiences.

It's a strange thing for some people to hear me say that I am grateful for the experience of being a sexual assault survivor. But, I am. The healing process was a difficult one, with many dark and scary times along the way. I didn't always think that I would make it through the darkness to the other side. In fact, I usually didn't. I wasn't even sure that I deserved to. I wallowed for a long time in self-abuse and neglect. I existed from day to day, seeing each not as an opportunity, but as an obstacle. I felt excruciating alone. I had no idea that this very "alone-ness" would someday be replaced by an equally intense feeling of belonging.

Because of what I survived, I now have a career that I am passionate about. I advocate for victims of sexual violence. I am their voice in the treatment and supervision of their offenders. I answer their questions and make sure that their concerns are addressed. I will not allow them to be forgotten, ignored, or dismissed. I understand their feelings and know their struggles. I accept their anger and disappointment without judgment. I believe in their potential and encourage their growth. I learn from them everyday.

Because of what I survived, I have exercised a lot of self-reflection. I have had therapy. I have participated in groups. I have attended healing retreats. I know more about myself and what makes me tick than I ever would have otherwise. I'm more self-aware than the average person and, arguably, more intuitive. I can read other people well, and I have a deep capacity for empathy. My knowledge and skills have helped me in my work and personal life.

Because of what I survived, I have an appreciation for what makes a man a "real" man. I know that "macho" has no value, that the traditionally "feminine" qualities take on a deeply attractive nature when displayed by a man, that love is more about mutual respect than about sexual tension, and that a healthy relationship isn't all that much work. I dated my fair share of "bad boys" and jerks. I tried to be married to a "nice guy." I had given up hope of finding "the one" when I left Ft. Wayne and moved to Chattanooga. Life once again surprised me when that very move brought me exactly what I thought was impossible. He had to patiently wade through the flotsam and jetsam of my past, but he must have seem something that I didn't even know existed. I am inexplicably grateful that he did.

pink tuxedos and dented quarter panels

I don't know if it's because of the New Year, the way that Facebook reconnects you with your past, or the fact that I will turn 40 later this year, but I've been thinking a lot lately about how my life may have been different had I made different relationship choices along the way. I used to say that I lived my life with no regrets, that every choice had led me to where I was now and and played a part in making me the person I had become. While I still believe that my past choices and actions have played an important role in me becoming the person I am, I can no longer say that I wouldn't change some of them if I had the chance. I think back on my romantic relationships, and I wonder what (and who) I could have avoided had I made different decisions.

One of my first serious boyfriends went to another high school. He was a nice guy and was older than me. He asked me to his junior prom. I remember shopping for the perfect dress and learning all about strapless bras and full skirts. I was all set to have my first prom experience with this nice guy when I met a "bad boy" who planted the seeds of doubt in my mind and heart. Just one day after the prom, I broke up with the nice guy and started to see the bad boy.

Now, those who knew me during my high school years know exactly who this bad boy was. We dated for nearly two and half years. We had some really good times together, but I would have to say that most were bad. He was controlling, possessive, and jealous. I was insecure and made excuses for his behavior. My friends could see that the relationship was unhealthy, but I was too headstrong (or too helpless) to get out. In college in upstate New York, surrounded by new friends, and excited about my future, I was able to end the relationship weeks into my freshman year. Sadly, I gave him a chance to "just be friends" a couple of years later and paid for that decision with bruises and a vandalized car.

From that point, I seem to have entered into a pattern of dating a good guy, becoming bored, leaving him for a bad boy, getting sick of said bad boy, and going back to dating a good guy. Lather. Rinse. Repeat. The details of each relationship matter little, though I used to analyze the hell out of them, trying to figure out what went wrong, why I couldn't foresee their demise, and wondering when and where I would finally find "the one."

I thought I had found "the one" for a long time. He was the last (and perhaps baddest) of all the bad boys. He was that special mix of bad boy on the outside with the soul of an injured, little boy on the inside. You know the type. He's in all the movies. He's the rebel with a cause, the boy from the wrong side of the tracks, the starving artist, the tortured soul. He's unbelievably good looking, deeply passionate, and even more deeply flawed. You're drawn to him like a moth to a flame, knowing that he will most likely completely consume you, destroy you, kill you, but you can't help yourself.

We met when we were fairly young--21 and 22. And we officially dated twice, though we tried to get something going at least four other times. I knew that things would never work between us, but it was hard to give up on the dream, to let go of the "what if." Though my official answer had something to do with turning 30 and wanting to go back to the South, he was largely to blame for my decision to leave Fort Wayne. We were "talking" again just before I made up my mind to go. I knew that I would have to physically distance myself from him if I ever hoped to emotionally and spiritually separate from him and from what he represented for me.

Of course, you all know that I stepped off the dating merry-go-round over 9 years ago. And, happily, I ended up with a good guy. He was patient and strong enough to wait it out while I healed from the wounds of the past, and he's never once let me down. The boredom that used to play games with my mind is a distant memory. He's my intellectual equal and my best friend. We laugh at the same stupid stuff, and we accept each other as we are. And, yes, while he is "the one" for me, I now realize that the problem with my past relationships wasn't actually who I was dating, but was who I was.

I see now that what changed had a lot less to do with whether a good guy could keep my interest or whether a bad boy could change his ways and a lot more to do with how well I knew myself and what was important to me. Instead of constantly trying to adapt myself to the situation or the guy, I needed to figure out who I was and find someone who actually liked that person. I only wish that I could have figured all this out sooner than I did. Don't get me wrong. I'm happy to have found my current partner and don't wish that I could have found this clarity and made it work with someone from my past. I only wish that fewer people could have been hurt along the well--the good guys who deserved better, the bad boys who had feelings despite their rough exteriors, and me.

And, in case you were wondering. The first guy (my prom date)...he's married, has five kids, and is one of my Facebook friends.

trust women

On May 31, 2009, Dr. George Tiller was gunned down while serving as an usher for a Sunday morning service in his Wichita, KS, church. Dr. Tiller operated a women's health clinic, one of only three nationwide that performed abortions after the 21st week of pregnancy, so-called "late-term abortions." Most of Dr. Tiller's patients made their excruciatingly difficult choice after learning later in their pregnancies that their unborn children suffered from severe, and sometimes fatal, birth defects. Some even had to choose between their own lives and the lives of their unborn children. For providing this medical service to his patients in desperate circumstances, Dr. Tiller was granted a death sentence. But, there was no trial. There was no testimony. Dr. Tiller's murderer, Scott Roeder, who will be afforded a trial of his own, served as Dr. Tiller's judge, jury, and executioner. Reports claim that Roeder will argue that his premeditated murder of Dr. Tiller was "justifiable homicide." That hardly sounds pro-life to me.

Dr. Tiller was known to wear a button that stated, simply, "Trust women." So, today, on the 37th anniversary of Roe v. Wade, on the eve of Scott Roeder's trial, and in honor of "Blog for Choice Day 2010," I want to share what those words me to me.

Trust women. Those two small words strike a very powerful chord in me. As a woman myself, I can't say that I always trusted myself, let alone other women. I didn't always know how to connect with other women. My own insecurities caused me to distance myself from them and often made me appear "snobby." I thought that this meant that I formed friendships with men easier, but I know wonder if it actually taught me to use my gender and sexuality as a means of connecting with men. I'm still not a "girly girl," and I can't relate to other women when it comes to topics like shopping, motherhood, or fashion, but I'm more comfortable in my own skin than ever before, and I've learned that our shared experiences as women tie us together in a way that we can never relate to men.

I had a great conversation with a female co-worker yesterday. She was frustrated over the lack of understanding that her male co-workers demonstrated regarding violence against women. She wondered if they could ever truly get it. I said that I didn't think they could. And, I believe that. As females, we grow up experiencing the world as an inherently dangerous place, with strangers and intimates capable of hurting us at any moment. We are taught about personal safety at a young age, and we internalize our responsibility to always be on guard. Walking to our cars, being alone in our homes, sitting at our office desks, even sleeping in our own beds, we are constantly aware, even if unconsciously, of our vulnerability.

Men, on the other hand, are conditioned to believe that the world is theirs to conquer. What we fear, they approach with a sense of entitlement and ownership. Does a man ever think about how he carries his keys as he approaches his car? Does he check the backseat? Does he ever worry that someone will force him/herself upon him? Does he worry about angering his partner for fear that violence could result? For that matter, does he ever struggle with the fear of losing his identity when he marries (and changes his name), with choosing between his career and his children, with trying to live up to the unrealistic standards portrayed by the media and espoused by his culture? Can a man ever really know what it feels like to be a woman?

During our conversation yesterday, my much younger co-worker said, "The sad thing is that they're right. It IS a man's world." I couldn't argue with her. While racism is still actively alive in our culture, I think that the threads of sexism are woven even deeper into our fabric. The citizenry of the U.S. elected the first black man to the presidency before the first woman. The numbers spoke for themselves. A strong, confident woman still must defend herself against the label of "bitch" when she aspires to do what men are doing. God forbid!

I trust myself, as a woman, to know when there is something wrong with my body. When I began experiencing strange symptoms and bodily changes, I searched for many years for a diagnosis. I was told that I had "fork-plate-mouth syndrome" when I started gaining weight at a fast rate. I couldn't control my weight despite medication, exercise, and a controlled diet. I knew it wasn't normal. I knew it wasn't just aging. I kept asking. I kept searching. After several doctors, a spinal tap, ultrasounds, and countless MRI's, I was finally diagnosed with a pituitary tumor. My problems didn't stop there, though, because when I started gaining weight YET AGAIN, I was told, "Yeah. It's hard. We're all on a diet in the office." The pounds kept coming. I searched some more. I asked some more. I was finally told by a renowned specialist that not only could the pituitary tumor affect my metabolism and cause me to gain weight, but that the medications prescribed for the tumor could do the same. Duh! That was what I had been trying to say all along. But, none of my doctors have ever believed that I could be right, that I could know my body better than they could. None of them trusted me!

I trust the women in my life with my deepest, darkest secrets, feelings, and fears. I trust them with my fun, my laughter, and my heart. My trust them with my love, my soul, and even with my life. I have jumped out of airplanes with them. I have cried with them. I have smuggled boycotted coffee with them. I have been pissed off with them. I have marched with them. I have had a blast with them. They are my sisters, some biologically and some spiritually. They are my mothers, not by birth, but by virtue. They are my teachers, my friends, my mentors, my inspiration. I trust these women, and I hope that they trust me.

And, I trust men, like Dr. Tiller, who trust women. I trust men who believe the victims of sexual assault when they report, when they testify, and when they want justice. I trust men who want a woman to be his partner, his equal, his mate. I trust men who speak out about violence, even when it has not affected them personally. I trust men who do their best, despite our biological, emotional, physical, sociological, psychological, and experiential differences, to truly connect with women, to empathize with women, and to support women.

Trust women. Trust yourself.

operation freefall

On April 24, 2010, I will be making my fifth tandem skydive as a part of Operation Freefall.

Operation Freefall started in 2001 when, on the anniversary of her rape, Speaking Out About Rape, Inc.^® (SOAR^®) founder, Kellie Greene, made her first skydive. When Kellie did this, she took a day of personal tragedy and turned it into a day of triumph. She reclaimed the day that had been taken from her and turned a dreaded annual memorial into a keenly anticipated celebration. Operation Freefall is the only event of its kind to increase awareness of sexual violence. The event is held simultaneously across the country on the last Saturday of each April, and it benefits both SOAR and local community-based anti-sexual violence organizations. In the past nine years, Operation Freefall has raised over $1,000,000 with nearly two-thirds of that going back to local communities.

Kellie Greene is both a mentor and close friend of mine. I know firsthand that the work she does has a positive impact on survivors and their loved ones. She has changed my life!

I hope that you will support me in my fundraising efforts. I have pledged to raise a minimum of $1,000 before March 15, 2010, and I have a long way to go!!!

Check out my fundraising page at http://www.firstgiving.com/shannonsmith2010. You can watch a video of last year's jump, read more about Operation Freefall, and make a secure on-line donation. Thanks for your support!!!

Blue Skies!!!
Shannon