A short trip in the way back machine . . .

January 4th, 2013 started as a day of running around, getting things done, including my first ever visit to Chipotle then coming home and dropping onto my bed to regroup.  It was 1923 hours and I was mentally wrestling with going back out to a local group meeting for Ham Radio operators, something from my past I've started toying with a bit. My heart however really wasn't in it.  The meeting was supposed to start at a location not terribly far from my house, I could have made it there had I left right then. But I was also considering going to bed really early and leaving the day behind me. I was just exhausted.  So I'm having the conversation with myself about going to the meeting, or going to bed when I had one of those moments of Satori.

Satori is the Zen concept of a moment of pure enlightenment, Nirvana if you will, or more commonly complete clarity and then you go back to whatever life was before you had that moment.  The thing about Satori is that like trauma, it changes you the instant it happens, and going back to what you were working on is often (but not always) rendered pointless.  This was one such moment.

Now we go even further back in the way back to 2003, a decade ago, when another such moment changed the course of my life forever.  I undertook some hypnotherapy to help me survive really hard times.  My husband had just had his first two heart attacks and my brother Jon had just died.  I was a complete mess, and wasn't really certain how I was going to survive the coming storm, or if I was even going to survive it.  Thus the hypnotherapy.  The law of unintended consequences basically says that do all the right things, for all the right reasons, and things will happen you could never have planned for or imagined.

That point in 2003 was like that.  In another moment of perfect clarity I saw a path split, one let to a happy, healthy, related tenth wedding anniversary three short years later, or to another funeral I couldn't afford to deal with emotionally.  My husband had the choice, take some decent healthy steps toward change and be around for our tenth, or take the other road and be dead before that point.

Regrettably 2006 came and left me a battered, abused, terrified widow fighting my own health issues and living in fear of my in-laws who BLAMED ME for my husband's death and served only to reinforce my Cassandra complex.  You know, Cassandra, the mythic figure from Greek history? She predicted the future, no believed her, and then she was cast out?  Anyway, by then I was already fighting hard to save my own life, and survive without knowing when, if, where, or even if I would land.  During that time, I developed a fascination with many things and had been toying with getting an Om tattoo on my wrist.  Over the years between then and Jan 4th, I'd inked myself using pens, markers, and even henna to see how it felt, and to see if I could stand the thought of living with it for the rest of my life.

Several times I self inked, each time changes came, each time served to reinforce the concept of having this a part of me forever.  Still I waffled, and eventually had stopped thinking about it because one of the places I talked to said it would be at least $100 dollars for the small bit of ink I wanted and they'd never heard of it.  The Om they said I'd have to bring them a drawing.  That was three or four years ago?  So I hadn't really given it much thought.

There is however energy, magic even, in symbolism, and one of the many, many reasons I'd considered getting the Om was a demarcation between my old life, and my new life.  Of course that would first require getting said new life first, and the criteria for that, included a bunch of health related issues I shall not bore you with.

Getting back to the Friday of the 4th however, there I was trying to decide to go out an socialize, or go to bed early.  Which is of course when a sudden flash of perfect clarity left me with the NEED to get that tattoo inked where I wanted it, right now.  That Friday night.  I suddenly felt refreshed, invigorated, ready, certain, and knowing intuitively that it wasn't going to cost what the first place claimed, but that even if it did, I NEEDED to do this now, that night.  I had to find a female artist in a decent place, to trust with the task of forever changing my body irreversibly, and I had to do it then.  Some time with my web browser, and few phone calls, including the place I'd been too years ago that said it was going to be $100 dollars, and I remembered driving past another place years ago that the name stuck with me because I thought it was funny.  Acme Body Art.  You know the place where while they work to ink you, Wylie Coyote drops a safe on you? Even my brother when I told him the name of the place said about the same thing.  But I thought I'd give them a call, see if they were still open, and if they had any female artists on staff.

Amber put me right at ease, answered my questions, and I speak more about her in my review both on Yelp, and here on my blog.

It was quite a change for me to leave the house on a Friday night, let alone head downtown, not to mention finding parking right across the street.  It was an amazing experience, and one I simply knew I had to do that night. I had no idea what it all meant, but it was an intuitive flash that left me knowing it was time, right then.  And I made it happen.  The money, time, and certainty in my heart and soul that this was not only something I could live with for the rest of my life, but needed to live with.

Tonight, it's exactly a two weeks later, and the blush so to speak has not left. It "healed" if that's the word for it, astonishingly quick, it didn't hurt at all when I had it done, hasn't hurt since then, and at most felt like I'd gotten a bit to much sun.  Now it doesn't even feel like that.  Just smooth, black skin that was once flesh colored.  I'm still so thrilled I finally did it.  It's in part, representative of my new life, and all the positive changes going on.  It's a reminder of then, and what not to do again, and it syncs me in with the universe better, as the Om is the fundamental frequency of this universe.  My home universe.  Or at least the one I'm living in now.  It's everything, past, present, future, now, all in one place.  It's full of deep meaning.  And it's something, almost a precious bit of jewelry I don't have to worry about losing. Ever.  No matter what happens for the rest of my life, that Om is going to be right there with me.

I've noticed over the last two weeks of living with it, I'm often seeing it out of the corner of my eye, and it helps remind me to stop, breath, and be.  The day after my tat went on, I'm once again at Chipotle eating my burrito and I enjoyed it even more, because I was reminded to be still, mindful as I eat, to savor the blessing of good food.  After years of avoiding Chipotle because of hype, I wanted something different that Friday and thought, okay, I'll try it. I am ever so glad I did.  The food is wonderful and they are a deeply "green" company mindful of such concepts of sustainability and organics.  It's good food, it tastes good, is good for you, and it's all done with sustainability and green culture in fact, not in name only.  They buy, whenever and wherever possible from local suppliers, use only meat grown to their exacting, organic, humane, free range/natural feed, specifications and pay farmers a premium for it, on purpose.  Because they only use specific cuts of meat, farmers are free to sell the rest as fully organic and make even more money of their work.

So Friday January 4th was a very full day, one with new experiences, things accomplished, and my first ever tattoo.  I'm already planning my next bit of ink for my left wrist which will be a Zen Enso of some kind. I'm still thinking about it.  Okay, maybe not such a short trip in the way back machine, but a worthwhile one.

A bit of permanence in an impermanent universe . . .

I put this image together after seeing some other ideas online and posted it to facebook, but it's been rolling around in my head and heart for some time since then.  It's come to me however in the almost a week since I finally became a tattooed lady, that this means even more to me than I'd first thought, or could even imagine.

I should start by saying that some of the things that everyone else I know and have talked to about getting inked never happened to me.  It was over the course of the last eight years I've been considering this that I have a less sensitive part of the body inked first, because the inside of the wrist hurts more than other parts of the body.  It was suggested I get a really tiny intro tat someplace else on my body so that I'd know if the pain was going to be a problem.  It was also mentioned that the endorphin rush after the tat was done would make the pain so worth it, and that people often get addicted to being inked because of the high afterwards.

Well I missed out on all of that.  As Amber was inking my wrist I sat there completely relaxed and comfortable chatting with her like we were having tea.  To me is felt simply like she was drawing on my wrist with a pen.  No pain at all.  And afterwards, no endorphin rush either. :(  So no chance I'll become addicted to being inked.  Thankfully, I can and do get endorphin rushes when I'm out cycling and I break through that wall, hit the zone where it's all flow and go.  So I don't feel cheated.  Drugs and pain however are not what I'm here to talk about.  Which is a good thing, lest I bore you all into a coma.

What struck me, aside from all my existing reasons for finally taking this irreversible step and permanently altering my body is something I'd not expected.

Over the years I've lost nearly everything I've ever owned more than once. I've been profoundly homeless. Even now, the remains of my life and my marriage sit in a storage locker a thousand miles away.  I'm spending an absurd amount of money on the storage locker until I can get there, save what I want to keep, and donate the rest to Goodwill.  Of course the money I'm spending to keep this locker is money I could be saving every month to get out there and get what I wanted to keep out of the locker.

I'm a Buddhist, and aware of the suffering attachment and impermanence can bring. I'm not really so wrapped up in the property that's there.  It's stuff that I've not really had any major access to since I put it in storage almost a decade ago.  Yup, nearly 10 years ago.  I'm interested in saving some of the memories there, and selling some of the valuables there to then be able to finally move back to Colorado, and start saving for a trip to California.  But most important are reclaiming some of the good memories that are locked away in that storage locker and sharing them with others.  Like of all things the video of our wedding that Earl didn't want and his parents did.  On it, is my brother, being his usual priceless self, a video my sister-in-law never saw because she wasn't married to my brother at the time.  A brother now long gone.  So it's about closure, it's about the future, it's about doing something right.  Because I have worked hard to rebuild my life after Earl and his folks, and having then the locker go into default and getting the hit on my credit report.

So I'm working towards getting that done, but it came to me that no matter what happens I've reached the point that if I have to, I can walk away from what is in the locker. I won't like once again losing everything from my past, but I can do it.  And it'll be memories, opportunities and good credit lost - again.

Which brings me to what struck me about this simple bit of ink.  For the rest of this lifetime, it's mine. No one can take it away from me, it's something I invested in that I will own for all the days of my life.  It's a level of permanence I've never had before.  It's kinda stunning and amazing for me.  I own it. It's also not something that can be stuck in a box, dropped in a storage locker, and left there for ten years.  Even if I lose everything including even my clothes, I will still own and have with me this ink.  It's a lovely bit of permanence in an impermanent universe . . . this means more to me than I possibly could have imagined in the eight, more years that I've wanted this tattoo.  It struck me suddenly, but feels really good. Standing naked in a spring rain, this will be with me, part of me. It's mine, I own it, and regardless of what may happen for the rest of my life, I'll own this and what it represents to me.  That's a sudden and powerful feeling for someone who has lived a life that is an exercise in impermanence.  I'm kinda stunned.

Inked And Proud ...

I've recently left behind the world, membership in a group of people and moved to a new special group. I'm inked now, I got my first tattoo recently, one I've wanted for years. So while I'm no longer a member of the part of humanity that has never been inked, I'm Inked And Proud! There on the right is my first tattoo ever. A long time I've been waiting, thinking, meditating about this one. The other night in a moment of Satori I KNEW! It was time. No doubts, no fears, no uncertainty whatsoever, just the clarity of knowing I'd arrived and had to do this right now. NOW! It was Friday night, and I don't usually go downtown into the heart of the city at night, let alone on Friday night. But I knew it was time. When I got down there I even found parking right across the street from Acme Body Art, and that just was another indication that today was the day, this was the time and place. But I'm getting ahead of myself in my tale.

I've wanted an Om on the inside of my left wrist for at least eight years. I've done it myself time and again with Sharpies and even Henna. Friday after a day of running around, I could feel it was time. It was the time. I had a few places in mind in downtown, and read the reviews carefully. There are plenty of places in Cincinnati to get inked, many are well reviewed, Acme Body Art however made the most sense to me because they had answers to my questions that others did not. Then I called Acme and asked the questions most important to me. The first being did they have any female artists there, and Amber got on the phone. My other question was did she know what an Om was. It's amazing how many places did not know what it was. She answered my other questions and put me at ease with this lifetime change, this piece of art that would be part of my body forever. I jumped in the car and drove down to the shop and found a parking spot right there! Just another sign this was right, right now. Alas, they DO NOT take credit cards, thankfully there's a money god (ATM) at the Marathon station right nearby.

Amber was awesome, very professional, took her time talking with me about exactly what I wanted, then stenciled it in place and let me sit and look at it to be sure it was the right size, in the right place. The workstation was clean, the whole place was clean, I felt safe, and then Amber showed me all that she was using, was all clean, sterile equipment and supplies. Then the hard part for her, and the easy part for me began.

I've heard being inked hurts. This was NOT my experience. I've heard the inside of the wrist is the most painful place. Also NOT my experience at all. Amber was slow, gentle, took her time, and was very focused on getting this done for me. We chatted while she worked and it was an excellent experience. 

The walls of the shop are adorned with original art, done by the artists there that is just breathtaking. So the entire experience was everything I could have hoped for and then some.  Very worth the money if you're thinking of getting inked.  This was my first time, but it shan't be my last, and Amber at Acme will be the artist I trust to forever mark my canvas.

Everything about the experience was wonderful, everything is clean, everyone is friendly, the atmosphere is calm, and no one there felt rushed to me. These people, each of them, are gifted artists, and know what they are doing in a clean, safe environment that will have you feeling relaxed, safe, and in good hands. I didn't get the names of the two male artists on staff, and honestly, that's my fault. I'd also like to give a shout out to Erin, another gifted artist that works there, some of her art was hanging on the walls as well and we spoke a bit about it while I was there. Like Amber her vibe is awesome, and I would feel safe n her hands as well. 

Frankly, the vibe/energy/feel of the whole place is great. So if you're thinking ink, and you're in Cincinnati, this is the place to go. No question. Everything about this place is five star. And the prices were lower than I'd thought they were going to be. You can't go wrong with Acme!

Oh and their phone number has changed - (513) 559-1670 - it's easier to remember! :-)

It's important to keep in mind that a tattoo is for all practical purposes, forever. This is one thing you can and will take with you to the very last day of your life. Be sure of what you want. Try it with sharpies, try it with henna, give it some serious thought, and pick something with meaning, something that speaks to you heart & mind. Don't get someone's name inked on to your body unless there is a really good reason, even then think it through...

I went to Acme Body Art @ 270 Ludlow Ave in Cincinnati because out of all the places I looked at, I felt the safest there, and because the vibe was right, both the vibe of the place, and the artist. I'll be back there again.

No longer just a 'possibility' of progress...

In my last post I mentioned finally seeing a good Endocrinologist.  One who, at our first meeting, based on my history alone said "I'll be stunned if it isn't CAH."

Monday October 22nd came and found me once again sitting down with my new Endo after tests she ordered. I was a nervous wreck, the night before I was in the shower sobbing, and then on the phone with my sister terrified that the tests would come back negative. I mean really, who in their right mind wishes they were going to be officially diagnosed with a birth defect? But that's just what I was hoping. Negative results would mean that I didn't have CAH and we'd be back to "I have no idea what is wrong with you."  Lynne did a wonderful job of helping me calm down, and reminded me that it wasn't just my Endo that thought it was CAH as Lynne and I had spent time researching it and comparing notes with my life.

The fear however was still there.  All my life I was so used to hearing things from doctors like "Well given everything you've been living with, I'm stunned you're even alive.  But we have no idea what's wrong with you."  I was terrified Monday was going to bring another "Well clearly you have health issues, but we still have no idea what's wrong with you."

I really need not have worried, because my new Endo, well she was not the least bit stunned. I do in fact have Congenital Adrenal Hyperplasia (CA) and have had it since birth.  Thus Congenital.  So Monday, after a lifetime of suffering, I started on treatment for it.  One of the many crushing symptoms of it was an inability to sleep in any way that was really healthy.  It was this, and the weight problems I have that finally had me at the Endo's since my primary care had no clue.  She's a wonderful doctor, but the most recent in a long line of Doctors that had marveled at the fact that I was alive at all.  She suggested the new Endo.  I owe that woman a big hug at the very least.

So, I started on new meds Monday.  Wednesday night I went to bed, still not having noticed a difference in my sleep behavior hoping it would change soon.  Nine hours later I awoke to the sun shining in my bedroom and no idea what had happened.  Nine hours of solid sleep was a miracle for me. A major one! Had a spot of breakfast and my morning meds (which include the new ones for CAH) and then took a 45 minute nap!  Not content, and worried this was a fluke, I went to bed Thursday night, hoping the new sleep would last. I woke up once for breakfast and pills and again took a short nap.  Almost 12 hours of sleep waking up briefly only once. Friday night, went to sleep, rose for breakfast and pills and then back to sleep.  10 hours last night.

God willing it shall continue!  And as I understand things, it should.

There are other signs that I will not bore you with that also indicate real progress here.  So it's not longer a 'possibility' of progress here, it is actual progress. And I shall be eternally grateful for the change this diagnosis, and treatment has brought to my life.  My whole life I've been waiting for this.  The new treatment however will do nothing to change my salt issues, so I'm still going to be consuming staggering amounts of salt.  I can live with that!

A possibility of progress. . .

I finally managed to get to a new Endo this month.  My GP has wanted me to go now for years. But it's just not been something I was able to handle financially, or emotionally.

In July, I reached the point where I felt confident this was something I could manage all the way around, and my own research had led me to some conclusions that could explain so much about my life, my medical history, and health issues I've been dealing with, many of them for my entire life.

Irony of ironies, having only just found my way to the information myself, sitting down with an Endo and describing all the minor, but life long issues we've never fully been able to deal with, she said "I'll be stunned if it isn't CAH."  I didn't lead her to it, just told her what I've been dealing with for so long. To hear her reach the same conclusion without even suggesting it, well it was at once empowering as it was frightening.

CAH is Congenital Adrenal Hyperplasia.  Over simplified, it means, that at some point during pregnancy, something didn't quite go right, and I was born with a messed up body.  Depending on it's severity, it can kill outright, usually within the first few weeks of life, or leave one with a lifetime of problems.

You can figure out which one I got.

Yes, a flash picture of salt.

One of the biggest indicators of this has been a series of jokes with my family and friends, and instructions from my childhood doctor.  You see most people need to watch their salt intake to prevent them from getting too much and risking health problems.  A fairly normal, healthy diet and you'll get just enough salt to do fine.  For my whole life, I've had to consume frankly astonishing amounts of salt.  Even to this day I'm refilling the salt shaker on the table once a month or so, and I'm the only one that lives here.  So to the right of course is more than a pound of salt, and in most houses this will last more than a year. In my house, I go through three pounds a year at least.  If I don't, I get sick.  My blood work shows as being off, which of course in the worst case, means dehydration and IVs.  This is just not exactly normal. It's the variant of CAH known as "Salt Wasting" and the one that usually kills in the first weeks of life.  Simply put, it means I go through salt way quicker than most people, and have to constantly replenish it. My childhood doctor told my parents that "for whatever reason" my body goes through salt much quicker and that not only was it okay for me eat lots of it, that I actually should.  And of course nothing crazier for parents to see than their child hit a salt craving and watch as I'd just pour salt into my hand and lick it up.  Over time, that hasn't changed at all.  Though now when I get hit with a salt craving, I'll dive into a jar of dill pickles and not come out until it's empty, juice and all.

Tomorrow early I'll be checking into the hospital as the spend time running tests on my blood. It promises to be great fun, if you like being stuck with needles as the take blood out of you, and inject stuff in.

Once they release me, a few weeks later, I'll have the results and another meeting with the Endo.

She's assured me, that if this diagnosis is correct and confirmed, it's treatable and I can live a normal healthy life.  But the upside to all this is that many of the health issues that I'm taking meds for, well they probably won't need medication before to long, and I'll be able to shed weight again with proper diet and exercise.  Which in the last seven some years hasn't been working.  I'll be thrilled to get rid of this extra weight, and be taking less meds.  But eventually it's going to mean buying new clothes, but fitting back into my old jeans.  I look forward to that part.  So there's a possibility of progress on the wind, and of course major health benefits, including but not limited to being able to sleep through the night for the first time in years.  That will be awesome!

Since the meeting with the Endo I've been running the stages of grief. And just in time for my day with the leeches (kidding folks) I've made some kind of peace with it I think.  This is a battle in one form or another I've been fighting most of my life and my father in particular always chalked it up to me being crazy, which meant more head doctors than time with someone who could really help.  Yes, without question CAH causes moodiness, depression and plenty of other problems as your body tried to keep you going as your electrolyte levels and hormones swing madly. But it doesn't mean you're crazy. Feeling like I've spent my life fighting a monster that really was under the bed that everyone said was all in my head?  Well it's depressing and feels like a life, not exactly wasted, but stolen from me once again.  Thus the stages of grief.

In the end, it's not what was, or could have been that really engages me here, it's a possibility of progress.

The smell remembers when . . .

Imagery can be a powerful thing.  It's central to many kinds of relaxation techniques including guided visualizations and meditations.  But sometimes it can yield breathtaking surprises when least expected.

Scents, those tiny air born clusters of atoms can trigger relaxation, even memories.  Think of how you feel when you're at the beach, imagine the way it sounds, close your eyes and picture in your minds eye the way it looks, and now that awesome smell you associate with the beach.

If you had any success with this brief exercise in guided visualization, the beach you felt, heart, saw and smelled is a specific beach that you have been to and enjoyed.  You've also accomplished a well known stress busting means of relaxation. Congratulations!  If you didn't don't feel bad, that was a really quick, simple example. Usually there is more involved.

If you didn't, or have never been to a beach to visualize (oh the horror!) then try visualizing everything about a special place that you know well.  See how that works? How that feels? Even smells associated with the place?

In our often hectic life, we can be surprised by a sight, sound, or smell that makes us think of somewhere else far away.  Guided visualization techniques not withstanding, I'm sure each of you reading this has experienced something like that.  Specific places often have a complex mixture of cues that remind us of a specific place.  It's the nature of memory.  So just as no two types of flowers smell the same, different beaches have their own complex signature. Beaches not withstanding, think of the difference between the way the air smells in the fall, and in the summer time. Two very different scents yes?

As I've mentioned before, I'm a Stargate franchise fan. I've watched pretty much every episode and movie (except Universe) repeatedly for my own enjoyment.  I've had many dreams where I've been involved with the program, at the SGC, on Atlantis, or on the various ships they have, working with the amazing people there.  I've been through the gate many, many times, but will always remember my first time so clearly.  The Gate system is also involved in some of my meditations.  Specifically one particular planet that I travel to often.  So often I have an apartment there. My apartment is a few short blocks from a glorious beach that I go to quite often to relax.  For me the experiences, and the memories they are tied to, are no less real than places I've been to on earth.  Like a Star trek: Next generation era holodeck, my mind fills in all the details, ones I don't often notice but are etched into my memories with or without my notice.

Before I go any further, let me mention I've not yet been, in this lifetime, anywhere near the Mediterranean Sea on earth. Never spent time at any beach on the Med so I have no scent linked memories that go with it.

My beach on 427 (P4C-427) however is etched indelibly into my heart and mind in ways I'd even not expected. It is a wonderful place and I can often be found sitting there meditating at all hours of the day and night. It brings me great peace. Often when I'm meditating here on earth, in my mind I first go to my beach on 427 and do my sitting there.  So even though I've not fully explored the area, there are scents drifting on the breeze that cannot be missed or mistaken.

I tend, here on earth to eschew scented products most of the time. The chemicals and such they use hardly ever get the smell right.  Which is part of why I'm fond of incense.  It's made of more natural materials.  So imagine my surprise when I bought a bottle of Dawn that was labeled as Mediterranean Lavender and promptly forgot about it until the one I had open was finished.

When I finally did open it and start using it I stopped what I was doing completely stunned.  That was my beach the scent they had put into the soap.  It honestly surprised me so much I had to stop and read the label since I'd forgotten what I'd bought.  honestly I'd not even looked at the label when I got it, I picked it simply because it was purple.  No, I'm not kidding.  But it smells just like my beach on a completely different planet.  That really caught me up short.

I'm reminded of the Trisha Yearwood song "The Song Remembers When."  In it she sings about how a song on the radio can bring back a rush of memories.  I so get that, and it's a common theme, so much so that there are other songs that say basically the same thing in different ways.

In this case however "The Smell Remembers When."  And I have a new dish soap that I'll keep on buying. If only because it makes me think of my other home, far from here.

I'm Sorry . . .

I am imperfect, flawed, a soul walking my own road to the great path. I walk with kindness, compassion, empathy and honesty. I share things from my own pasts to let people know they are not alone. I have lived, died, been rebirthed of my own ashes and that's just in this trip. I am Buddhist person, a mystical being of light made flesh, I am old, I am young, I share freely not to force my beliefs or experiences on you but to let you know I hear what your heart says even as words may fail us both. If my existence or attempts to temper suffering with kindness and stories from my past, or my future, offend you, please be honest, or simply unfriend me. Do not wait until you are angry, fearful and suffering to lash out at me suddenly. Walk in the light, with me, or without, but do not presume to inflict your limitations on my existence because I am not you. I'm sorry I'm not you now if that offends you, but I have been there before. I walk my path based on my perceptions of what is, not based on yours. I am sorry if this makes anyone uncomfortable.

All roads lead to the great path. Many cross. Fair day my friends.

Simply Priceless. You really want to watch this one. Will Frey and Austin Zenhder are famous. Infamous even.

Just a question... When did wanting to see small businesses have a fighting chance against bloated multinationals and wanting to see that ordinary people have a living wage and a place to live and enough to eat and not have to fear that an illness will beggar them become socialism? And if that is socialism, what's so horrible about it? - Gillian Cameron

Victimizing the victims - instead of the perpetrators . . .

I am a survivor of Sexual Assault, which in most states in a first degree felony.  My now late husband used power, privilege and money every step of the way to fight from having the light of truth shined on his miserable soul. At every turn he used the courts against me to keep me from having any real closure or protection from his ongoing actions.  Six some odd years ago he died while fighting our divorce. He was found in contempt of court repeatedly for violations of retraining orders, failure to appear and continuing to stalk me. He didn't even get a slap on the wrist.  His death was the only closure I got.  I had to find out about it second hand.  My lawyer who'd been notified by the court that the divorce was dismissed because Earl died didn't bother to contact me. A Friend called to let me know when she heard from one of my husband's friends that he had died.

I've often said rapists and sexual predators should be put to death.  But you know, I'm not completely sure about that anymore, because frankly, Earl got off easy and "escaped" for now, the consequences of his actions.

Regrettably, we live in a rape culture.  Where rapists, and sexual predators are protected while their victims continue to get victimized.

Recently a young woman in Kentucky was sexually assaulted and had pictures of her assault spread to the four winds BY THE two men that committed the assault.  It took a year to get the matter into court, and rather than fighting the charges and getting a real sentence, they made a plea arrangement with the court to get what amounts to a slap on the wrist. Outraged, she tweeted their names and what had happened.

So guess who is likely to wind up in jail? The victim!

Savannah Dietrich, 17-Year-Old Sexual Assault Victim, Faces Charge For Naming Attackers

Once again the victim being victimized instead of the perpetrators.  So I did some digging, and managed to catch more of the information and most importantly, the names and pictures of the two CONVICTED SEX OFFENDERS that attacked Savannah.

First up we have Austin Zehnder of Kentucky:

Austin Zehnder - Convicted Of First Degree Sexual Assault, A Felony.

Don't you just love those eyes? That winning smile? The hardened chiseled features? Ruggedly handsome or lifelong sociopath.  My money is on the later.

Next up we have Will Frey III also of Kentucky:

Will Frey III - Convicted Of First Degree Sexual Assault, A Felony.

Another award winning specimen of humanity here.  These men Sexually Assaulted Savannah in Kentucky and posted PICTURES of the act electronically. They violated a young woman without her consent for their own deviant needs and BRAGGED about it to friends and online.  They were convicted of First Degree Sexual Assault, A FELONY and given a slap on the wrist while Savannah, rightfully upset and violated may go to jail for letting the world know who these men are?  By a FEMALE judge no less.

Once again, Victimizing the victims instead of the perpetrators. Way to go America.  Savannah, we are your sisters and we stand with you.