*Results may vary. The information in this site is NOT to be construed as medical advice. Cirrhosis of the liver is a serious condition and if you have it, you should see a doctor. I am not a doctor and am not able to dispense medical advice. My husband saw a doctor (many of them) and they were able to do things for him that I could not. However, they were unable to recommend alternative treatments, and in MY OPINION they were VERY beneficial to my husband, so I am providing some of that information here. My husband and I tried all of these alternative therapies at our own risk, and if you try them you will be doing the same. At your own risk. No promises are made in this blog. I am not saying there is a cure for cirrhosis or any other condition. However, I believe most people can get well, like my husband did. My husband is alive, happy, productive, functional and has his energy back. He no longer worries about having to go on disability or getting a $577,000 liver transplant. Cirrhosis is a serious condition. He is currently in the fibrosis stage (Stage 2 liver disease), which is still serious. I cannot guarantee you will have the same results. I just want you to know about what worked well for my husband. I hope you will share what you learned with others, and share your story with us as well. This blog was made for YOU! Thanks for visiting!

Monday, November 27, 2017

Ronan and Dylan Farrow are Heroes for making Abuse easier to talk about. And here is my story.

I freekin... love... Ronan Farrow. And am so grateful for all the work he did, to help so many women come out and speak out about the abuse that had happened to them. I also want to give kudos to Mia Farrow for raising her kids right! She must be very proud.  

UPDATE: And thank you to Dylan Farrow for speaking about it publicly. That makes it easier for the rest of us. I saw the interview with Gayle King after I wrote this post. That was very brave!!

Part of the reason I wish I could give Dylan and Ronan a big hug and a high five, is that I was molested as a young girl. And the reason I'm mentioning it on this blog is that I believe one of the biggest reasons people drink too much, or turn to self destructive behavior, is repression.... which comes from a feeling of, "I can't talk about this or I'll be in trouble."

I've talked about this subject before, but I'm going to go into a little more detail in this post.  I know this will sound like a weird thing to say, but, while I still resent and hate the person who did what he did to me (I'll mention who it was in a minute), I believe that the experience made me stronger as a person, because it taught me not to blindly trust authority figures. 

Thanks, in part, to what happened to me as a child, I do question peoples' motives, and it was partly because of this, that I did NOT accept when I was told, by doctors, that my husband's only hope was a transplant. I really do believe that when we are given challenges in life, it's up to us to turn it into something positive. And when something horrible happens to you, it's up to you, to do what you can, to try to help ensure it never happens to another person (which is part of the reason why I started this blog in the first place). 

I love how Ronan says, at the 2:58 mark: 

"Fundamentally, it was very apparent, early in the reporting on this, that this is a public safety issue. You can't stop going, if you have evidence that there's maybe an ongoing pattern of behavior that's endangering people."

And I feel exactly that way about the medical industry. Which is why I keep writing about alternative things that help people with cirrhosis, and keep warning people about the dangerous side effects of pharmaceutical drugs.


At the 8:36 mark, he talks about how his reporting on Harvey Weinstein was partly fueled by his own experience of having abuse in his family - referring to his sister's molestation by her own father, Woody Allen.

"It was an assignment I received, and I actually didn't know about it until then. What was instrumental in linking these two things, and helping drive me during this story, was, sexual assault was an issue that had touched my family.... I understood, over time, the importance of confronting it honestly, and the importance of tough, meticulous reporting, and exposing these kinds of crimes. In my case, I was, for many years, one of the people, around the victim of sexual assault, saying, why bother coming forward, what'll it achieve, it's just going to bring shame, and trouble, and it's a powerful guy. And it was a long process of my realizing, you know... NO.  The fact that she wants to speak is something important, ethically, and I, as a reporter, too... whether you're looking at Bill Cosby or Roger Ailes, Harvey Weinstein... we have to get tougher. We all have to get tougher."

I don't want to get too far off the subject, but what he says, about first trying to encourage his sister to let the whole Woody Allen thing go, reminds me of when I tried to get my younger sister (whom I'll call Mavis) to "let go" of her anger towards someone who had bullied her (whom I'm going to call Ona). When we were in grade school, Ona bullied my sisters, and me to some degree (not as much because I went out of my way to stay off her radar). 

We were either in our late 20s or early 30s, when my sister and I had a conversation about this woman, whom I'd long since forgiven. I just assumed my sister had forgiven her, as well. I actually had gotten to the point where I felt sort of sorry for Ona, because one of my closest friends in high school told me one day (I think in either the 8th or 9th grade) that Ona had made out with some other girl in Softball camp, and word about it had spread like wildfire, across the school. Everyone knew about it, and I knew Ona must have felt humiliated. And I remember thinking.... wow... there really is such a thing as karma.

Ona went out of her way to try to prove to everyone that she liked boys... to the point where it seemed to turn her into a very promiscuous person, and I always wondered if she'd wind up with multiple STDs. She was in my high school yearbook class, and she'd often refer to different guys she was sleeping with, and I just felt like it was a pathetic and desperate way to cover up the rumors. She actually ended up becoming a famous DJ in my hometown, and I always thought, man... if her radio fans knew what a bully she was, or how promiscuous she was in high school. She ended up giving birth as a single Mom, to a child with autism.  

I often suspected that something must not be right in Ona's home life, and had let go of my resentment towards her, back in high school. But my sister, on the other hand, was still full of rage towards Ona, and how she'd treated her during grade school.  Both she and my older sister were unfortunate to have a class with her, as our school had "combination classes" that paired you up with kids in one grade above, or one grade below, you. I got off easy, and even though Ona was in my grade, I somehow never got paired up in a class with that bitch. 

Well, at first, I tried to tell my sister to just let the whole thing go... I told Mavis about what had happened in high school, and how Ona was obviously someone who had an unhappy home life, and she was probably bullied or molested.... and I told Mavis that she would be better off, just letting it go. I know it's not good to hang onto anger (though I will admit I don't have the easiest time with that one, either).

Well, Mavis wasn't having any of it. She was still so full of anger and resentment towards Ona, for relentlessly bullying her in school (I had no idea how bad it was, until she told me).... all of a sudden, I found myself hating that bitch all over again. 

I don't always see hatred or anger as a bad thing... especially if it causes you to take action and not just "let things go" - like most people do. 

Now, when I see bullies who are picking on some kid, I go after them. It's like my way of making up for the fact that I wasn't able to protect my little sister in school. About a month ago, I was in a fast food restaurant and I saw a bunch of kids picking another kid, and I yelled, "Hey!!!!" And they looked at me, shocked, I guess because most people - particularly not women - tend not to call them out on their actions. "What are you doing? That's not cool." I said to the bully. He looked at me, shocked. And I gave him my best crazy eyed stare, like, I'm going to follow you home and talk to your mother and hunt you down, if you don't stop bothering that kid right now. You could see it really jolted the kid, and he and his bully buddies kept turning around and looking back at me, like, is that crazy lady going to hurt us?

The fact that I could clearly see that bullying had caused this lifelong anger, and emotional damage, to my sister, made me develop this crazy intolerance for bullies, as an adult. That incident I mentioned wasn't the only time. There was another time I was jogging past a playground where some bully was actually kicking a kid who was on the ground, and I flipped the fuck out. I screamed at him, in front of half his classmates, "Hey, YOU!!! You better leave him the fuck alone!! Do you hear me? If you EVER touch that kid again, I'm going to come over there and BEAT your fucking ass. How would you like that? Having all your classmates watch your ass get kicked by a girl?? Not so fun, huh!!!" The playground supervisor actually came over to me and whispered thank you, because he'd always wanted to give that kid a verbal (or physical) smackdown, but doing so would have cost him his job. 

I realize, I'm getting off track with these stories, but I am bringing them up to say, I think the hard things we experience in life, can actually make us better people, and make us see different perspectives that make us want to fight harder for others. I love it that Ronan Farrow got to that point where he realized, what his sister Dylan had gone through, was valid and important, and it wasn't fair for her to continue to cover up what she had been through.  Just like I want to fight to help other people to not go through what my sister went through, with bullying, or what my husband went through, with the utter lack of education for people who have cirrhosis. The medical system can be like bullies, preying on vulnerable people who think they have no options but to take what's being dished out for them.

But back to the molestation thing...

I'm always fascinated by why people do what they do, and why they don't do what they don't do, and I've spent about 30 years analyzing, why didn't I say something to my mother, about the fact that I was being molested?

I'm just going to come out and say who the perpetrator was.  It was my maternal grandfather - my Mom's father (whom I'll call Grandpa Chester - as in, Chesster the Molester).  He was somebody who was considered to be very important and powerful... the patriarch of the family who worked hard at a day job, and financially supported the family. So people respected him. But I knew the truth.  He was a dirty old bastard, and a coward, with a very dark secret.

I don't think I ever came out and mentioned, on this blog, who it was who did that to me, but... there it is. In my opinion, he did not deserve to get to live his life without being exposed. He did not earn my silence. I feel like, he got away with murder, by getting to die before people started to talk about it and bring what he did, to light. Further down in this post, I'm going to say why I kept silent about it all these years, and why I think most kids will never mention that they're being abused... unless they're prompted to say something. 

And I want to say thanks to all the people like Ronan Farrow who, in the last few years, have been brave enough to expose so many of the perpetrators out there, because it's helped me to feel a little more comfortable with talking about who it is (though I will admit, the fact that this is an anonymous blog does make it a little easier for me to talk about this). 

So, this is what happened...

On at least one occasion, while I was about 6 years old, Grandpa Chester lured me into his work closet (which was like a toolshed), closed the door, turned off the light, sat me down on his lap, and stuck his disgusting, camel-cigarette-smelling tongue down my throat. For maybe about 5 minutes... or who knows maybe it was half an hour. It feels like an eternity when it's happening so my sense of time recollection isn't the best. It was completely mortifying, and I managed to block it out for over a decade. 

I learned first hand that the brain really can block things out of your memory. Just one more of the body's awesome, self protecting survival mechanisms that helps us stay alive.  I had enough stress at home and in school.... had I actually been able to consciously remember what had happened to me as a first grader, that might have just pushed me over the edge.  

 Update after watching Dylan Farrow's interview with Gayle King:  I totally get how Dylan would have pointed to her shoulder instead of "down there"... what 7 year old would want to talk about something like that? I didn't bring up what happened to me, till I was almost 20, and if someone had asked me about it at age 7, I very easily could have denied it. I get how some people could think she's making this kind of thing up but trust me, denial is easy at that age.... imagine yourself as a 7 year old. You just want to live in a fluffy little world of stuffed animals. You don't want to acknowledge that there are sick people out there, so it's easy to deny when some horrible crap happens to you.

Had this not happened to me, I don't know if I would have believed it was possible for the human brain to just block things out, as if they'd never even happened. Around the time the memories started flooding back, I remember that Rosanne Barr had come out with the news that she'd been sexually abused at home. And I remember thinking, wow. If that hadn't happened to me, I think I'd be thinking, there's no way someone could really block that out. How could you possibly block out something like that???

And yet, I did.  Until I was 19 years, old, and my Grandfather was on his deathbed, dying from lung cancer, from all those disgusting Camel cigarettes. I was at the hospital when it all started coming back to me.

When I told my mother about it (as the memory suddenly came flooding back), she was shocked... but she also never doubted me, or blamed me, as I've heard, sadly, some mothers do. My Mom ended up talking to her sisters, who talked to their kids, and come to find out, he'd tried to pull various stunts on different kids in the family besides me. Me and my cousin both developed an eating disorder, and although I wouldn't say my eating disorder directly evolved because of what my grandfather did, I do absolutely believe that was a contributing factor.  Few things cause a person to turn towards self-destructive behavior, like repression.   

My mother told me to never, ever ask my cousin about her anorexia, or what caused it. I love my Mom, but felt that it wasn't her place to tell me that, when she was my relative, too, and I highly suspected we'd been through the same thing... possibly worse for my cousin, who had full blown anorexia. Whenever someone tells me not to do something, I really WANT to do it even more. The only reason I never did bring it up with her, is because I never got the chance, or had a good opportunity, since she lives in another state and we just lost touch. In my opinion is, it's just not good to cover shit up... especially if the person you're trying to cover shit up about, doesn't deserve your silence. 

When you've been abused by someone who is expecting you to stay silent about it, it's like they've handed you a backpack full of lead, and a very large jar of the grossest, nastiest, decaying, bacteria filled shit, that you are now expected to carry around, for the rest of your life. Nobody deserves to have to carry that around, particularly not for the sake of someone who was a downright asshole. But they're expecting YOU to carry it, FOR THEM, and they're getting away with murder in the process, making YOU do all the heavy lifting, even you know THEY should be carrying it... NOT YOU. And they're probably handing out more and more backpacks you're not even aware of! I wish I could grab that backpack and hurl it at my Grandfather's head, and say, YOU carry this, motherfucker.  I'm gonna tell the WORLD what you did. I'm gonna shake up this jar, heat it up, and throw it in your face!

Um... ok yeah, I still have some anger issues. 

Grandpa Chester used to make the comment: "A lazy man is worse than a dead man."  And somehow, I always felt like, these comments were secretly alluding towards my father, who struggled with depression and couldn't seem to hold down a steady job, despite the fact that he was a really smart guy, who graduated from Stanford. 

If I could go back in time, now that I'm a lot more brave (maybe a little too brave), there are quite a few things I'd say to my grandfather.  If I could rewind to that moment where he said, "A lazy man is worse than a dead man"... I would have said, "You know what's worse than a lazy man?  A FUCKING PEDOPHILE!"

So, why is it that I was unable to say something, as a kid?

I think there is a part of us that has to have this protective "outer layer" - like the skin of an orange, that keeps us safe. The fact is, when we have an outer shell that looks nice, and undamaged, we just seem to do better in life.  I managed to get really good at giving off the impression, to my friends and family around me, that everything was fine. I was in lots of activities at school. I was into theatre and drama and choir and public speaking, and had been on the swim team. Because I was able to keep up this protective, undamaged, outer shell, I hung out with kids who were probably more accepting of me. They were smarter, more wealthy, and probably a good influence on me in a lot of ways. Not all, but many.

When there's damage to the skin of any fruit, that fruit will quickly start to rot, and if it's in a bag, it can spoil the rest of the fruit around it. If a person sees that fruit in a store, it's not the fruit that's going to be selected. That fruit is going in the trash. Or if an animal sees rotting fruit on the ground, that animal is less likely to eat it, and therefore, the seeds, which are sometimes passed around through animal poop - will not spread, and the fruit will have less of a chance to germinate elsewhere. 

I think that somehow, instinctively, we know that our "outer shell" is very important.  Your outer shell determines who you attract in life, and whom you get acceptance from. And this can have a direct effect on procreation, which is what we're all basically built for (whether we choose to have kids or not). So it's kind of a big deal.

Your outer shell is like your facebook wall. You get to choose what you post on that wall, and what the public sees, and you have to be kind of selective about what you post on there, because once you post something, people may remember that thing, about you, that you made public, for the rest of your life. 

I once heard that Joe Rogan drank his own pee (because supposedly there are health benefits to it). If I ever met Joe Rogan in person, I'd have a hard time not thinking about that (even though he's super hot). People have a tendency to remember the stuff that's weird, and/or kind of negative, and they can be hard to shake from our memories. 

You know when you post something on your Facebook wall, but it's marked private, so only you can see it? Well, when someone f**ks with you, it's kind of like that, and there's no erasing it. It's always there, on your private wall, but luckily, it doesn't affect me too much in my everyday life. What happened to me is like a post that's all the way down at the very bottom of my wall. I know it's there, but because it's all the way down at the bottom, I don't have to think about it much.

When you are a child, you are very aware that you need the adults around you, to survive. You're very aware that they're much bigger than you, and that they could harm you or even kill you if you upset them. It's not like I ever thought of my Grandfather as the dangerous type who would do that, but... you just don't know. I remember feeling pretty vulnerable, as a kid. Like, you're acutely aware of how tiny you are, compared to the rest of the world. I remember looking at my hands, and wanting them to grow, to become the same size as the hands of the adults around me.

So what does a kid do, when they've been violated?  I'd venture to say about 99 percent of kids will never say something about it as a child, unless they're either prompted or assured that it's ok to talk. When you don't feel safe in saying something, you just default to option B... pretending the whole thing never even happened. And this is actually a pretty easy, common option, that truly feels like a good option, because you really do not want to BELIEVE that it ever happened, anyway! So, being in denial about the whole thing, and pretending that it never happened, is pretty easy to do. 

There are the things in our lives, that are an indellible part of our history, that we're not proud of. Many of us have had things that happened to us, that were beyond our control, and we don't WANT them to be a part of our history... but they just ARE, and we got no choice in the matter. 

When you are part of a family or organization, it's kind of like you're all existing in a large glass bowl. When  you're dealing with a perpetrator or molester who is in a position of power, and you know they want you to stay silent, you are keenly aware that, if you were the very first person to speak up, then it would be like you had put a huge crack in the bowl that your entire group exists in, causing everything to fall apart.  So it would be YOUR fault. YOU would be bringing shame to the whole group that you, and the perpetrator, belong to. Whether it's a family, or the film industry. 

It feels like a MASSIVE, HEAVY burden, to be the person who wants to speak up, about what happened. It's such a big burden, in fact, that you feel like you can't even touch it. You'd be like the waiter in the restaurant who accidentally drops a tray with 5 plates on it, and caused a bunch of food and wine to be spilled on nearby guests, and everybody turns around and looks at him. Who wants to be the person who did that? Nobody!!!

You feel like, if you were to "out" someone who is big and powerful, then you'd be like someone who just dropped the big glass dish that holds the turkey on Thanksgiving.  That dish may have a bunch of cracks in it, but if you break the news that the powerful person in your family or organization is a shameful person, then it's like you just raised that dish up over your head and dropped it, with a loud dramatic crash.

When think about "outing" someone in a powerful position, who is truly a shameful person, you are keenly aware that by doing so, you'll be spreading that shame to the rest of the family or organization. On some level, even as a young child, you know this.  You realize that, as long as you keep things to yourself, then all that shame is being neatly contained and compartmentalized, and not infecting anyone else.  You're protecting your family by keeping a lid on that big, nasty, gross jar full of shit and bacteria, in your heavy backpack full of lead.

Even as a kid, you understand that you have the ability to protect your family, by keeping all that shame inside a tightly closed storage container... your brain.  By holding in what happened, and NOT talking about it, you're actually protecting the rest of your family. You're like, the apple that looks ok on the outside, but when you cut it open, you see it's brown. By keeping up a strong outer skin, you're able to keep from infecting all the other apples - your family members. 

I've thought about publicly talking about what happened, but the immediate sense that I get is that people in my family would be upset. Because NOBODY likes having negative attention drawn to them, and if I came out and said something publicly (in a non-anonymous blog), then EVERYONE IN MY FAMILY would have negative attention drawn to them. And I'm sure that there are many actresses who felt that they couldn't speak up because they knew if they did, they wouldn't be attracting negative attention just to them.... they'd be attracting that negative attention to their entire industry. 

Barbara Walters said, to Corey Feldman, when he was talking about being molested, that he was damaging an entire industry. I thought, WOW.  If that's not a perfect example of WHY people don't come out and speak up  about people who molest them (so the perpetrators just keep on getting away with it... over and over again). The victims feel trapped, like they can't say a word, so they're keeping a lid on all these horrible negative emotions, which are kind of like the bacteria in the glass jar. It can get to the point where it's ready to explode. You can have a LOT of anger and resentment and hostility, building up inside you, when you know, deep down, that you've had this massive injustice done to you, but that perpetrator is expecting you to keep quiet about it.

But the victims can't bear the burden of all that blame and shame and anger, suddenly being directed towards THEM. It's so wrong! They should be protected and rewarded for speaking out, but instead, they're shamed and shunned. You'd think Barbara Walters, of all people, would  have been more interested in what Corey Feldman had to say, but instead... she shamed him!

Fear of Shunning

I think we are all wired to be VERY afraid of SHUNNING, and we're very aware, even as children - of what can cause it.  Back in the days where people lived in tribes, being shunned or having extreme social disapproval could easily mean that no one would help you get food or water when you needed help. Nobody would help you if there was a mountain lion about to go after you. So basically, it could mean death. And our brains have us naturally wired to avoid death, at all costs.

My mother said to me once, "Why didn't you say anything about it before?" And my response to her was that, not only had my brain managed to block it out, but the main reason was, I was just so mortified about the whole thing, I really wanted to believe that it never really happened at all. 

These days, we don't necessarily need others to survive, as much as we used to. There are child protective services in place, to help children and adults get food when they need it. But I still think we have that hard wiring in our heads, to believe that shunning is a bad, bad thing, that can literally KILL US, or cause so much stress we don't even want to live. Look at all the kids who've committed suicide because they've been shunned or humiliated by their peers!

By coming out and exposing a family member, you're not just peeling off our own protective layer. You feel like you'd also be peeling off other peoples' protective layers as well. You'd be like the bad apple in the family that rots the whole barrel. Everybody is going to want to get rid of that bad apple, asap, because shame has a way of spreading and infecting and damaging a whole area, very quickly... like bacteria. 

By publicly letting people know that there is damage to YOUR outer layer, it's like you're suddenly damaging everyone else's outer layer in the process. And people resent having damage to their outer layer, just like they resent walking up to their car and seeing that someone left a big door dent in it.  Because, again, it is our human instinct to protect that outer layer. Because that outer layer really can, to a certain degree, affect how well we do in life.  

We are all aware of the things that "strengthen our outer shell." If you're born with attractive external qualities, it strengthens that shell. If you're born into wealth or power, it strengthens that shell. If you have anything in your life that would give you "bragging rights" or would somehow make you appear more desirable to the opposite sex... this strengthens your outer shell, and gives you a better shot at procreation.

So on a very deep level, it really pissed me off, that my Grandfather was able to make his disgusting actions a part of my history. Because now I was in a position where, I felt like I had to work very hard, to not let it affect my outer shell... which involves a large amount of cover up, and over compensation, and a large effort to pretend like everything was fine, when it's wasn't.  Ultimately, you're not just trying to protect YOUR outer shell... you're protecting it for your whole family.

Finding the Good in your Negative Experiences

I believe that I wound up with some serious control freaky tendencies, partly because of what happened to me as a child. And it's part of the reason why I developed an eating disorder as a teenager. I felt like I needed to be in control of situations, because I knew how much I didn't like the feeling of being out of control, as a kid. 

But, I also do believe that it's up to use to find the good in bad circumstances, which we almost always can, as long as we make the effort.  If you haven't read it, I highly recommend you check out the book Man's Search For Meaning (if you don't have a lot of time to read books, like I don't, there's an audiobook version available as well). 

I believe there are good things that arose from what happened to me as a kid.  And my sick maternal Grandfather in NO WAY deserves any credit for this (I keep saying Maternal Grandfather because in no way do I ever want to think I'm talking about my paternal grandfather, who was a very upstanding person). 

If you're ever able to turn a bad situation into something good, then God forbid that person ever think that they had some kind of positive influence on your life. In fact, they did the opposite. They did damage to your shell, and every little crack damages - little by little - a person's sense of safety and security, and therefore, it can damage your health. Because of the cracks people put on our shells, and the damage that people do to us, this can lead to an early death for us. It's up to US to figure out ways to repair the damage, and stay safe.

So, if there's anything good to come of what happened...

I'm glad that now, I don't just blindly believe people who are authoritative figures. I question people and their motives quite a bit. And I don't think I do it in an unhealthy way.  In my opinion, I'm just being smart and safe.

In addition, because I'm aware that there are sick people out there who do bad things to kids behind closed doors, I was able to have a talk with my stepkids, that neither of their biological parents would have had, because they hadn't been through what I had. 

When you go through something negative (like what happened with my husband getting cirrhosis), you have also been blessed with the divine power to be able to keep the same thing from happening to someone else! You now possess the greatest teaching tool of all time. The ability to help people avoid a serious pitfall, that could eventually cost them their life. 

I said to my stepkids, if any adult ever touches you in a way that you just know, that they would not be doing, if there were 10 other adults in the room, then you need to tell someone because that is NOT ok, and if you say something about it, you could help to prevent it from happening to someone else.
Nobody ever had that talk with me, but I wish they did. People don't talk about this stuff because they don't want to negatively skew a child's perspective on the world. I mean, no kid wants an adult to say, "Watch out for adults - even the ones you're related to,  because they could try to molest you." I mean, my God. You don't want them to walk around afraid, all the time, thinking, one of my own relatives could molest me, when the odds are better than not, that it will not happen. But for those of us who it does happen to... we need some kind of subtle warning, that clicks, if it ever DOES happen.

If kids are just told WHAT TO DO, when it happens to them, then they can do something. We need to be given some kind of quick action step, like we were taught about Stop, Drop and Roll...  we need a Walk Away, Tell your Teacher, Don't blame yourself drill. By the way, for the record, I never blamed myself for this at all, and feel really bad for any person who does blame themselves.

I really think that kids should be taught, in school, that if any adult touches them in a way that, they know that the person would NOT be doing, if there were other adults in the room, then NO MATTER who it is, they should speak up. Because that person is sick and they need help. I truly think that if we were all taught this, as children (and especially if all adults knew that we were being taught this in school), then there would be a lot less molestation going on.

It seemed like that sh*t was RAMPANT in the 70's... I've talked to other women who grew up in the 70s, like I did, and some of them they had it worse than I did, and I firmly believe that led these women to drink. Like I said, nothing leads a person to self destructive behavior, and drinking, like repression.

I took a self defense class, earlier this year, and we were taught what to do if we're ever attacked. I think the reason it's so easy for some women to get assaulted, is because most women feel completely unprepared, when it happens. They have this "Oh, sh*t" moment where they realize, they really don't know what to do. So few women are ever armed with the knowledge of exactly what steps to take, if someone assaults you. Why they don't teach us this stuff in school, I don't know, but I really hope it will start to happen.  ALL GIRLS need to be taught this stuff!!!

When a person is in shock, they tend to freeze up, and this gives a perpetrator a perfect opportunity to take advantage of their victim. But if you've just been instructed on how to act and what to do, it's easy to take the right steps, because you don't waste any time being in shock.  I was definitely in a moderate state of shock, and bewilderment, after my Grandfather did what he did. I mean, how could you not be? But if I'd been armed with the knowledge of what to do... I never would have been in that position, in the first place. 

I love this story, about the female jogger who was attacked in a public park restroom. She kept hitting him and screaming, "Not today, motherfucker!!!"  And she used moves on the guy, which she'd learned in a self defense class.  Love how sad and beat up this guy looks, in the photo below.  Mwaaaahaaahaaaa.


Anyway, I know this post is getting a little long, but I had to share my thoughts on why children feel like they can't speak up.  Just like how, if I'd never experienced my own brain blocking things out, I would have a hard time understanding it was possible... I know there are probably people out there who don't understand why it's so difficult for people to name their accusers, publicly. But it just is.  So - again - I am extremely grateful for people like Ronan Farrow, who are making it just a little bit easier for the rest of us, to speak up.  


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