Book of Lisa 1:54

COURAGEOUS 🀄️

“Courage is being scared to death and saddling up anyway.” John Wayne

I am feeling grateful right now. So much so that it is overwhelming me. I’m starting to understand that this is a good time for me to write. Thankfully, I have also been ordered by my therapist to find at least thirty to forty-five minutes every day for self care. Otherwise, I might be driving around running errands or reading documents or paying bills or at Target returning the underwear I bought in the wrong size at least two weeks ago. That would have been time well spent and I still hope to get at least one of those things accomplished this afternoon. But first I’m going to write this. That’s much better. My therapist is good.

My life is a lot to handle right now. I can’t imagine anyone would argue that point. My to do list is impossibly long and I am a highly productive person. I am. I’ve been told this by far too many people for this not to be true. But when areas in your life are sometimes on fire or in danger of catching on fire at any moment, you don’t look or feel very productive. Every human being has their limit. It’s called overwhelm and there is not a lot you can do with that. Trust me.

Some days are better than others. All of them are busy. Thankfully, some are energizing, but others feel like I am trying to run through a pool of mud. I think it looks really scary from the outside. I get that. I’m afraid there are people who are just scared of me. If you’re one of those people you needn’t be. I’m just a human being. Everyone needs people who care about them and who accept them for who they are and where they are. This is who I am. This is what my life is like right now. I’m still here. You can still talk to me.

Not that long ago I named my life as if it is a roller coaster. So sometimes now when I’m talking to people I refer to my life as the Flaming Dragon. It works for me. I know other people it works for, too. It seems like I meet more roller coaster enthusiasts every single day. These are my people. The people who can cope with and even enjoy a roller coaster life or who can at least identify with it. I am grateful for you.

I am also grateful for people who keep reaching out. I was taking a walk with one of them yesterday. I haven’t been able to see this friend very much over the last year and we used to see each other almost every day. I know she was happy to see me and that she also wanted to know something. She shared with me that she is having a hard time tolerating something that feels hostile and she knows that I understand that very well right now. She asked me, very honestly, about my superpower. She wanted to know how in the world I am doing what I am doing. How am I enduring what I am enduring and still standing?

I get it. It must be mind boggling. At times, it honestly seems like my family and myself are under attack. It’s as if we have been called to battle and everyone knows how that goes. It takes it out of you. Everyone in my family is exhibiting the effects of stress. It’s hard, but we are standing up for ourselves. I told my friend that courage is my superpower.

Here’s the thing I’m learning. The key is the standing up. It makes you stronger. Honestly, sometimes I feel like someday we are going to rule the world. I think that must be called an empire state of mind. I believe that what I am standing up for is important and when we make it all the way through this to the other side there will be change. That’s why I’m doing it. I see no other options worth considering.

Everything in life is a gift. OZSHALOM

My Mother Nature

When I was a little girl I didn’t imagine myself being a mother. I didn’t care to play with dolls. I didn’t want to babysit. And I didn’t have little cousins or younger siblings. That just wasn’t my experience.

Me and my kids in Times Square, Summer of 2012

As I got older, I didn’t give much consideration to having kids. I just knew it wasn’t something I envisioned. Throughout my twenties I recall confidently declaring to my friends that I would not be having kids.

Here’s the thing. I do have kids. And anyone who knows me now knows how I feel about them. I am in love with them.

I imagine it can be awkward with some people to talk about how my kids came to be because I didn’t plan them. But I wanted them and I still do. Some people might use the word accident to describe how my children were conceived, but that’s just not true. I knew what I was doing when they were conceived. It was intentional. By the age of 30 I realized that I really did want to have kids. Someday. I didn’t plan to have them right away. That’s what happened anyway. I knew I wanted these kids. They are cherished.

Sometimes I wonder at how I seemed to build myself to be the person I am. How is it that I am so uniquely qualified to be their mother? I realize this is also not true. I do not possess many of the qualities that kids need. Yes my chosen career path really overlaps with my motherhood in some big ways, but I am also keenly aware of my parenting deficiencies. Why can’t I just be better at some things? Because I’m not. This is who my kids got. I’m just their mother. And I am trying to improve myself all the time.

What I do know is that I love my kids so much that I can see all of their beauty. That has expanded my world in ways it never could have been otherwise. I imagine that some people might only see my life as a parent as hard. And it is challenging. And I am grateful. Seventeen years ago when I became a mother my life finally became directed. Before that I had my feet on the ground and I was running, but with nothing I was running for. They inspire me. They are who I dedicate myself to. They are my purpose.

J. Warren Welch really puts it into words perfectly. “Your children are not your masterpiece that you create. They are their own masterpiece, creating themselves, and you have been given the privilege of watching them be the artist.”

I love watching my kids create themselves. That’s why I wanted them. They are incredible. What an amazing human experience.

Honestly,

Lisa

I. Advocate for Children’s Rights.

Dear Beatrice,

I’ve been thinking about you for a long time now, but these last few years I’ve thought about you more often. I really hope my indifference to you and your child didn’t cause you too much heartache. And if it did I hope you were quick to find forgiveness. I know what it’s like to carry pain around and I’ve only recently truly understood the importance of forgiveness. My kids helped me figure that out.

Sometimes when I need to talk to someone about what I’m going through I talk to you in my head. My family that I live with doesn’t need to hear it. They know all about it because they are living it, too. Others who I know love me can’t really understand because they aren’t living it and I really don’t want to talk about it all the time, but I do need to let it out. I imagine that you felt the same way. I wonder if you still do? I wonder how you and your grown child are doing now? It’s painful and it’s isolating when your kids are neglected by the school system. My circle has become very small. As is the case with any crisis, I am learning painful lessons about the people who I thought were my friends. It’s times like these when you learn who you can count on. And it is hard to stand up by yourself, but that’s what I do.

I’m sorry I didn’t realize how hard it was when I knew you, but I just didn’t understand. I wasn’t a mother yet and I’ve come to realize that people without kids like ours have no way of truly understanding. Sometimes they even blame us. I don’t understand why life is that way, but it just is. It’s always up to us to stand up for ourselves. Our kids deserve the highest respect and so do we.

Twenty years ago I became a lawyer because I thought that I was born to stand up for what was right and I chose civil rights work. I thought that being a lawyer was the only way to do this work. I was mistaken, but I didn’t have any experience standing up for myself that much because I was born into a life of privilege. Much of my time has been spent practicing in the area of special education or navigating that system myself. Your case for your child was my very first. Regrettably, I don’t actually recall anything about your case or your child. I only remember you. That’s because my focus was off. I was focused on doing what I thought was my job rather than focusing on your child. That was my mistake. What I remember about you was that you were a force and I also assumed that you were crazy. I’m sorry for that. After I had my own kids I realized that you weren’t crazy and that you were just a crazed mom like me. I’ve carried that with me every day and I want you to know that I bring it up every time I teach others about special education law.

I know now firsthand what the education system can do to mothers like us. I have been told sometimes that I am too emotional. That’s just another word for crazy mother and it is offensive. I have three children who are all incredible human beings. They were all on track educationally until all of a sudden they weren’t. My children have all been harmed by the inequity and the dysfunction of our education system. I’ve concluded that the system is simply not focused on children at all. All three of my kids are identified in the educational world as twice exceptional. That means that they are highly gifted and that they also have disabilities. Trying to get my kids educated in our public school system has taken over every part of my life. I am a frequent flyer now. That’s what we lawyers in the school system call parents like us who continue to file IDEA complaints for our kids.

What I want you to know is that I am grateful for you. We parents all stand on the shoulders of giants and you had giant shoulders. You are a leader in every sense of the word. Thank you for leading the way with your determination and your passion. I am sure you never gave up. It made me a better lawyer, a better advocate, and most importantly a better mother. I am proud of myself in all of those aspects of my life.

My best to you always.

Peace ✌🏼

Lisa

The D Word

Most days now when I wake up I have a panicky feeling in my chest and racing thoughts in my mind. I don’t always write, but I know that I need to express all of these overwhelming thoughts and feelings. I never know what is going to come out, but it is images of my family running through my mind almost all the time. We are all impacted by stress in our collective lives. That’s just how families work. We absorb all of it.

Something that is a constant in our home right now is depression. I am beginning to understand that this one word generates strong feelings and images based on one’s own personal experiences with it. I’ve found that there are people who don’t understand it at all. I also know that sometimes when people don’t understand something they are afraid of it. This makes people scared to name depression in their own lives, but I find it hard to believe that I know anyone who has not been touched by it. Maybe that’s just me though. I always try to stand firmly in reality.

Whatever name people put on the symptoms they are experiencing in their bodies, I believe it really does often come down to depression. From my perspective, it can look like a lot of different things because we are all just wired differently. But we are all human so we are the same. Depression is a slog.

My 16 year old has been deeply wounded. She is also very resilient. She doesn’t talk much with people outside of our house, so many people don’t really know her and few people may realize the extraordinary human being they see before them. But I do. She is a warrior. And she is a leader in every sense of the word.

My daughter is in the thick of it right now. There are things that are affecting her over which she has no control. No doubt this is an important life lesson. We all have things we cannot control. Personally, I try to live by the serenity prayer and I sense that she does, too. But she is in an incredibly tough position right now. The thing she doesn’t have control over is her education and that is a place where she excels. At least she did before last year.

My daughter was born deaf and she needs an interpreter to provide her with effective access at school. She is now a junior in high school and in her second year without access. When she is in school, it has become a warzone. That’s how I know she is a warrior. She has fought, but it is not without deep wounding that comes with battle. She is also battling depression.

My daughter is keenly aware that she must keep pushing through. I am in awe of her resilience.

This morning as I opened up my google docs to begin writing, I came across a speech that she wrote last year for a communication competition. As it turned out, she never gave this speech, but I think what she wrote speaks to the core of her resilience. Her speech was about optimism. I think she will not mind if I publish it here.

My daughter wrote these words at a time when she was going to school advocating for herself every single day and not understanding anything that was going on because she had no access to communication at all. She asked me the other day if I could imagine what it was like to not understand anything that is going on around you all the time. She describes the feelings of isolation. I can imagine, but I do not know. All I know is that it hurts her deeply and it hurts me deeply, as well. I am grateful that my daughter is resilient. I pray that we are all as resilient.

Serenity now.

“Where does my optimism come from?”

So, the actual question is, where do I get my optimism from? Where is it from? Where is it “created”? Well, I do personally believe that optimism or determination (which is also partly the term of being optimistic) is from a life lesson or another. From a past experience or another. According to “past experience,” I have a story to share with you guys, since you’re all here with me. When I was younger, a lot younger, it started in elementary school. I was bullied, teased and manipulated so bad. People just call me names, like dumb, useless, stupid, retarded, clueless, idiot, pea-brain, confused… And every time that happens, I would come home Know why? –Because I can’t hear. Because I don’t sometimes understand information very clearly, and my brain mix things up and it was so frustrating. Because people just don’t understand, since I was so different and described by many people as “abnormal” or “weird” or “strange,” or something absurd and silly like that. This past memory of mine made me want to become stronger and more self-aware, and to make a difference, since I am different. And I think you all should, too. Everyone can be different, but they’re still the same. And I feel like everyone should show people that we are just the same, like them.

When I had this feeling of being different, I was only two years and nine months old. It was at the time of when I lost my hearing. I feel like I’m not being understood and left out, because all of my family members are hearing, and I’m the only deaf person in the family. There are also a lot of hearing people in the world, and that is part of the reason of why I feel different.

The feeling of being different can make me feel isolated, because for years, being different can make me have a really hard time to fit into society and the world. It made me feel bad when hearing people just treat me like I’m different, like I seem to them as a pushover. Or a doormat.

There are a lot of hearing people who have bullied, manipulated and harassed me a lot all over the years. And it have caused me to feel low and low, every time they do that. They don’t do that, but since I’ve started high school, there was a lot of insecurity and drama in school. It got me very depressed and anxious. It made me so afraid every time I go to that school, enter the door, go into my homeroom period, sit down and be with all of the hearing people that I’m with. And that made me nervous.

What made me feel good, is when a person understands me for who I am. Like my mother. My mother is the only person, in most of my life, who understands me. She knows how to communicate with me. My brothers don’t. My step-dad didn’t, really. And we got into a lot of fights, because of that. They’re still learning, though.

I feel like my greatest purpose of my life, is to make a great difference. To share all of what I have. To share my story. To be bold and fast, rather than suffering in silence. And I promised myself to do it, starting at sixteen years old. I want to do all of the things that I’ve been wanting to do all my entire life. My interests and passions. My story. Everything. And I’m going to do it.

My optimism comes from my life. Thank you for listening to what I am trying to say.

HOPEFUL🙏🏽

Hope has been on my mind a lot over the last week as I think about what it must feel like to be my 16 year old. Despite everything that has happened over the last few years at school, they have practiced forgiveness and patience and have continued to hold out hope that people will do what they promise and what is right. I have always been patient and I realize that I tend to be a hopeful person, too. I think I’ve always been that way and maybe that has rubbed off or maybe we were both just born that way. I don’t really know how that works. What I do know is that we are both people who can be patient and who look for hope. The way I see it, these are qualities that weigh heavily in our favor.

People are very curious about my child, but they don’t always seem interested in the ways we need them to be. Right now they’re more interested in my child’s gender identity. It’s the question I am most often asked. Even when I am in the middle of a conversation about what is most important in school. Deafness. I get it. Not everyone has a transgender person in the family and it must seem like the biggest deal in the world to a lot of people. I guess it is a big deal, but not to me. Not right now. My child is almost 17 years old. I’ve known that they didn’t fit quite right into the gender role that was assigned at birth since they were as young as six years old and I found them in one of my formal dresses adoring themself in a full length mirror in my bathroom. I have a whole photo shoot of that moment. I need to find those images on my computer. They felt beautiful and they still are beautiful. The labels are irrelevant to me. They are the same exact person they have always been. I’m not here to tell them who to be and I never would. People praise me for this attitude and tell me how lucky they are to have me as a mother. I appreciate that and I know that is true because I know that not everyone accepts their children for who they are. I just feel like their mother. I feel so lucky to have this child.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m glad that there are people who are curious who support them and accept them, but what I truly wish is that people would take an interest in the fact that they are Deaf and they are being discriminated against. It’s a big deal. It makes them really expensive to educate because they need an educational interpreter at school. They are entitled to it under the law, but we have to fight for it ourselves. The discrimination against my child as a Deaf person permeates every single crevice of our lives. We have been traumatized. It hurts every person in our family. It’s hard when hope falls out from under you and you feel hopeless. It wipes you out and makes you feel depressed. That’s just what hopelessness does. That’s why hope is so important to me.

They wrote something the other day about what it feels like to be discriminated against. I read it. Yesterday they asked me if I know what it feels like. I don’t. But I know what it feels like to be the mother of someone who has been discriminated against. It is hurting me deeply. I can only imagine what it feels like to be them. Now at a time when they are most vulnerable, they have been betrayed again by the same people who have been hurting them all along. We just hoped they would fix the problem. It stands to reason since that’s their job. So far hope and patience haven’t worked out in this situation at all. Not for either of us. My child has been an educational refugee all year because they don’t have an educational interpreter. It is a struggle to find any benefit for them at all in our schools. And I know that we are certainly not alone. The people who have hurt my child were supposed to teach them. It turns out the child is doing the teaching. They speak up for themself. My child doesn’t hesitate to speak publicly about how they have been mistreated because they are deaf. They want to call the police. My child cannot understand how discrimination, especially against a child, isn’t a criminal offense. Why doesn’t the law work that way? My child filed their own complaint about how they have been discriminated against by the school system because it’s just plain wrong. The complaint was ignored because they are a child.

I was texting with my child the other day and they said that they are glad that it was happening to them instead of someone else. I actually know that’s not exactly true. I’m certain that there are other Deaf kids who are suffering in the same way, but I didn’t say that to them. They feel like the only one right now. Instead I asked them why they were glad it was them. They said that it has to happen to someone for things to change and that they know that not everyone can handle it. They said they knows they can because they have become so used to it. It felt like an arrow was shot straight into my heart. I am raising a leader and only a few of us can see that. My child knows it though. That’s the only thing that really matters.

I am amazed at their resiliency and so thankful for them. I wish to god they didn’t have to be this strong. I thank god that they are. They hugged me and thanked me yesterday for always being their rock. I am thankful that I am strong and that they know that, too. But it is the kids who are going to have to lead us out of this mess because the adults are just failing. We live in an adult world where we have to navigate through lawyers. I am in awe of my child’s simplistic power.

And there it is again. There is always more hope when I look for it. I love that about hope.

🌻

Me Too

September 27, 2018

My heart is pounding as I write about this thing that happened more than thirty years ago. It has caused me so much stress, so much shame, embarrassment, sadness, and anger. I have shared this story with few people and I only told my own mother about it when women started sharing their own #metoo stories. I am writing this as Christine Blasey Ford bravely testifies about her sexual assault experience with Brett Kavanaugh in front of the whole world.

It was in the fall of 1987. I was a senior in high school. I had no reason not to trust him. He was my friend. In fact, he is my facebook friend, and he will surely read this post. I have never talked to him about what happened or told him how much he hurt me. We went to the same high school and still have friends in the same social circle. We had just come back from a six week trip through Israel with a large group of high school students. We were all friends. I had fallen in love with a boy on our trip who ended our relationship when we got home. I was heartbroken. I began spending time with this friend. He was always there to listen and I confided my heartbreak to him. We played tennis together. He took me to homecoming. He was running for student council and he convinced me to run, too. He helped me with my campaign (He won. I lost.) I appreciated his friendship and his support. When he invited me over to his house for dinner on a weekend night I didn’t think twice. When I got to his house his family wasn’t there and he had made a really nice meal for us, including a bottle of wine. He kept topping off my glass of wine while we were eating and I became very drunk really quickly. The next thing I knew I woke up to him trying to take off my pants. I was lying on a bed and had no awareness of leaving the table. I got myself up as quickly as I could, I got out of his house, and I went home and went to bed. Our houses were only a few blocks apart, but I don’t remember if I drove or if I walked over to his house and I also don’t remember how I got home.

I blamed myself for being stupid enough to go over to his house and for letting him get me so drunk. I was afraid that my parents would be upset with me. I blamed myself for trusting him. There was no upside to telling anyone and I intended to bury it, but it still was not over. On Monday while I was sitting in a class filled with my classmates and friends, another boy who had been my friend since elementary school “served me” with a handwritten bill from my assailant. The bill detailed all of the money he had spent on homecoming, on the dinner he had made me and the alcohol he had used to get me so drunk, and the value of his time he had spent with me. There was no question that he believed he was entitled to sex and he wanted to publicly shame me for refusing to consent. I have no idea why he would do that, but it was cruel and deeply affected me. It was a painful and daily reminder for the rest of my senior year and is something I still cannot completely escape. I assume that people from high school thought that serving me with that bill was a funny joke and I am still asked about it, especially when he and I are at the same event, which was most recently at our 30th high school reunion.

Here’s the thing. There was nothing funny about his stupid joke. It was intended to displace his shame onto me. And it worked for a long time.

✌🏽

Mr. & Mrs. Jason Rudofsky

Respect for our choices about how we want to live and acceptance for who we are or who we want to become are things I think about a lot these days. When I reflect back on some of the life choices I’ve made I realize that it is a recurring theme in my life. I just haven’t always been true to myself.

The other day I found myself engaged in a very personal conversation with an open minded and very kind hearted woman at work. As we were exchanging personal stories, we both verbalized how cultural norms have played into some very important decisions we have both made in our lives. Specifically, our decisions to marry. I have been very aware over the years how the pressure to conform to societal expectations, both spoken and unspoken, have played into my decisions to marry. I have learned some really hard lessons. I hope I’ve learned enough to model courage to live my life on my own terms so that my children will be better able to face pressure as they become who they want to be in this world.🙏🏼

The truth is that from a fairly young age, I was resistant to the idea of marriage. I was never resistant to committed partnership with another person, but to marriage. It just never made sense to me. I certainly never dreamed of walking down the aisle in a beautiful white gown with bridesmaids and flowers and the whole nine yards. Never. Not once do I recall having that vision of myself. It’s still incredible to me that I have ever been married at all. But what I’ve realized is that my sensitivity, combined with my need for acceptance and belonging, led me to make important decisions about my relationships that were just not right for me. It has also caused myself and others in my life a lot of heartache and grief. I regret that most.

I married my first husband in 1994 when I only 24 because I could sense that my commitment to living with him and even buying a place together was never going to sit well with people in my family. They just didn’t think it looked right. I remember overhearing people say that we were living in sin more than once. I was constantly asked when we were going to get married. Not if, but when. As if there was no choice in the matter. We might as well since we were living together, right? We loved each other and I quickly tired of the pressure, so we got married. I was only 24 years old. I recall having little enthusiasm for our wedding plans. It just wasn’t what I really wanted. Our marriage lasted less than two years. I left Colorado to attend law school in New York as if I was fleeing the scene of a crime. I swore I would never get married again. I was so sorry for hurting him and everyone else. It was awful.

And then I jumped straight into a relationship with another man, but I didn’t marry again for five years. I was 31 and very pregnant the second time around. We had been dating for five years and had been living together for two. We moved in together after I graduated from law school. It made sense. He wanted me to stay in New York and could afford the apartment on his Wall Street salary while I was a young lawyer in debt up to my eyeballs and a committed public servant. I couldn’t afford to live alone any longer. Not in New York City. I knew I wanted to have kids at some point in my life, but I still didn’t feel right about marriage when I unexpectedly became pregnant a month after 9/11. Because my pregnancy was unplanned and we were were both in shock from 9/11, I did not even realize I was pregnant until I was already through my first trimester. He was opposed to the idea of having children without being married. I was just stunned to be pregnant. What I remember was that one of the first questions I heard from my father was how quickly could we tie the knot. I felt his shame. I didn’t want to cause anyone to feel ashamed and I wasn’t strong enough at that moment in time to pay attention to what I needed. I agree to get married. It felt like a shotgun. Again, I had no interest in the wedding. My groom was excited. He planned the whole thing himself. And our marriage produced three beautiful human beings and for that I am grateful, but our marriage was a mistake. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone. Least of all our children. But that’s exactly what happened when we split up.

In the last several years, I found myself wrestling with marriage again. My feelings about it have not changed. I see no need to marry in order to prove my commitment to our relationship or our blended family. But it has affected my life again. It was brought to my attention recently that my third husband (yes, he is charming) and I need to make an announcement to let people know that we are married so that people will understand that we are a family. I don’t understand this. We are clearly committed to one another. Around six years ago we decided that we could live without each other, but we didn’t want to. Why would we want to live apart when we are so much happier and stronger together? We adore one another. We accept everything about each other. We committed fully. Come hell or high water. And people who know us know that our family has had our fair share of these things.

Jason and I decided to live our lives together and to try to blend our families. I felt like we have always been pretty clear about this fact. We announced it the best ways we knew how to present ourselves as a family to the world. We said it outright. We sent out holiday cards from our family to everyone we knew. We have consistently presented ourselves as a family. Yet, we have recently been told that people don’t understand what we are. There has been no wedding celebration. No adoption proceedings. And no other commonly recognizable formality to seal the deal in other people’s minds. It pains us that we are not accepted for the way we have chosen to live. It has thrown big hard chunks in our blender. The truth is it alienates us. Others us. We do not feel respected. We do not feel we all belong. We are separate and not equal.

We have also been told by people in our family who have now found out that we are married that they are hurt because we have not specifically told them we are married. I can accept that people feel hurt, but they can keep their blame. I don’t understand that. Our marriage has nothing to do with anyone else. It’s our personal business. It’s our personal relationship. Why is it for the world to know? In fact, we would not be married right now if it were not out of a need for security for our family. I didn’t think twice about it when I was working for the State of Colorado and it would not recognize us as domestic partners because we are not a same sex couple. We were required to be married to be insured together. We are a family. It is painful for us that we would even need to announce this to anyone and we never planned on doing so until our children found out because they saw the date written on my calendar. Fortunately, I believe knowing this gave some of them (5 kids) some sense of security and peace of mind. I’m glad for that, but it also saddens me that they needed that. How is it still this way in a world filled with different kinds of families? Why have we not evolved more?

I think it all comes back to the need for acceptance and belonging. The truth is that for the last six years even some people in our own family have excluded us. So I am taking the advice we have been given. Please consider this a formal announcement. We are a family. All of us. Established in 2013. Dysfunctional and strange as we may appear to be. Our marriage is a legal fact scribbled on a word document and we do now refer to one another as husband and wife. It’s been easier for people to understand. Saying partner left people wondering if I was a lesbian. Lover cracked us both up, but made some people feel uncomfortable. I hope that no one is hurt by only now learning that we are married. It is a legal fact that we did not feel was necessary to share. We assumed that we would belong simply because we are, in fact, a family.

Peace and love.

Always✌🏼🤟🏼

Lisa Ann Weiss-Rudofsky (she)

Me. Forgiving.

On September 27, 2018, the day that Christine Blasey Ford testified on national television about her sexual assault, I was compelled to write about my own experience with sexual assault from high school. The emotions I had bottled up came pouring out of me as I related to what she was revealing so publicly and with such courage. My heart was raging for her while she was being interrogated about her memories of that event that happened to her so long ago. There was no question in my mind that what she remembered was vivid and true.

I so strongly identified with what was happening to her at that moment that I could not stop myself from writing. I had to for my own sake. It was not planned. It just happened. It was personal. It was about me. It was only my experience. My perspective. My truth. My focus was not on the other party, but about how the experience had affected me. It was cathartic. I had a physical response while I was writing. It was a healing experience for me. It was necessary. I have no regret.

I hope that my vulnerability somehow helped people who read it to think about the larger lesson about consent and what that means. It is something that I feel strongly about. I believe that it is a lesson that our society needs to learn immediately and completely. One of my high school girlfriends beautifully put words to this in her comment on my facebook post that day. I don’t think I could write it any better. Her words felt like a balm on my sore heart.

Lisa, I want you to know I had no idea this happened, nor can I even imagine who you are talking about. (I don’t want to know!) Not everyone has this memory of you. I remember you as a brilliant tennis player and a soft-spoken, smart and beautiful person. I’m sure your friend who hurt you this way remembers you the same way, and he’s probably embarrassed too. I’m so very sorry this happened to you. Thank you for sharing. We will only make progress when everyone – including those who don’t see themselves as perpetrators – listens to these stories and talks to their sons and daughters about consent. Peace. 💙

What I hoped to express in my writing was that he was my friend and I was hurt by him. These things might not have affected another girl like they did me and they may not have lasted as long if I were a different woman. I understand that completely. We are all unique and I suppose that I am more sensitive than others in some ways. I wish that I had possesses the strength and sense of self at that time to confront my friend who hurt me. I wish I would have been able to explain to him that what he had done to me was wrong. But I did not. I struggled with the shame of it and that is what continued to cause my pain, even though I now know that my pain was not ever his intention.

We live in a society where girls are shamed for how we dress and how we behave. I’m still recovering and relearning that myself. Our culture still subscribes to the belief that boys will be boys.

We have to take responsibility for the space we hold here. And this is the lesson I hope people will take away from my story. I like to think that some have and I know that others have not. Some of my friends who are men felt vulnerable and maybe they still do. Some people were angry with me and some were also angry with him. This was not a battle call, so I am sorry for that. It is never my intention to cause people to feel vulnerable or afraid or angry. That’s not who I am at all.

Since writing about my experience, I have met with my friend and talked it out. He was shocked. He was upset about the words I used. He was upset at being portrayed as an assailant. He felt vulnerable. He was hurt. I listened as he shared with me his memories and his perspective of that night and of our relationship. He recalls things differently than I do. And I believe his story. I believe that he did not mean to hurt me that night. I believe that he thought a sexual relationship between us was consensual because of how he felt about me and about our relationship. We both remembered that he stopped as soon as I was able to tell him to stop.

What I do not believe is that he did not mean to cause me shame. He explained that he had felt rejected and ashamed and that the bill he sent was sent for another reason altogether. It was a reaction to his pain after he found out that I had kissed another boy. We were two kids who had both been hurt. I don’t believe he was sorry for his behavior then. I do believe that he is sorry now. I know I am sorry I hurt his feelings.

One of the greatest lessons that I have learned through this experience is about the power of forgiveness. My own children have also been critical in learning about forgiveness. They have experienced so much hurt and yet they try to understand that the people who have hurt them have not done so intentionally and that many still do not even understand when they cause them harm. It’s a hard lesson that we have all learned. Forgiveness has been important for us to move forward. Sometimes we still get stuck in pain. Forgiveness isn’t always easy to find quickly, but it allows us to move through the anger, the resentment, and the blame. Forgiveness allows us to find peace in our pain.

My friend and I both hurt each other. Forgiveness has allowed me to find peace and move past the pain. I hope that my friend can do the same.

Sincerely and in 1m3s PEACE✌🏼 Always,

Lisa

אֲסֵפָה

Dear Heart🐍

Finding the words to start this letter has been difficult for me, much like my difficulty sharing myself with you while living through what has been a heavy and painful stretch of time. Words are one of the many things that have become complicated in my world. One reason is that my heart is held by the three beautiful young human beings I live with who sometimes appear to be world class linguists. They perceive words more literally and specifically than I. They are also perfectionists, something I now realize I have dealt with myself for my whole life. I’ve learned a lot from them about these things. Sometimes my difficulty with words and my perfectionism makes it difficult for me to express myself. It is other people’s sensitivities that has caused me to choose my words more carefully and to remain mindful of my intentions when I express myself. It doesn’t always work for me, but I’m practicing. It is also the reason that I have not been as connected to people who are important to me. My words are sometimes misconstrued or perceived differently than I intend them and I am aware that some people have been hurt and may be uncomfortable or even angry. I am truly sorry to anyone I may have hurt or made uncomfortable. That is never my intention.

Today I am choosing a word that I learned this morning from one of my kids. Asephah (אֲסֵפָה) is a word that means community in Hebrew and it works just fine for my intention today. For I want to express my appreciation to you, my asephah. You are my community of friends, family, colleagues, helpers, supporters, partners, mentors, teachers, leaders, and healers who have given me and my family your support and love in countless ways. I am grateful for you.

I also want to offer this as my prayer. I have been thinking a lot about prayer and what that means. This last week I wrote a piece that is to be included in a book about advocacy stories published by Hands and Voices, an organization I have been involved with since moving back to Colorado in 2008. Like me, Hands and Voices understands the power of storytelling. It is telling our stories that softens hearts and opens minds, which is what helps to connect people with one another. It is that connection that helps us to feel a sense of belonging. I am grateful that I was asked to write my advocacy story. One reason I am grateful is that writing it helped me to better understand what prayer means for me.

I have never considered myself to be a particularly religious person. I think this is mostly because of how other people perceive me. I am not always very observant of the traditions of the religion. I tend to say that I am Jewish, but not very observant. I am Jewish because I was born into a family that is Jewish and because I was raised with the traditions of the religion, as well. Some aspects are comforting to me, especially the community it offers. I recently heard Oprah Winfrey explain something on one of her podcasts about her perspective about religion that really resonated with me. She explained that she is a Christian and also that she is open-minded. I realized that I’ve never felt the need to explain that I am open-minded after telling someone that I am Jewish. I think that’s because my experience has always just been as an open-minded person. It never occurred to me there was any other way to be Jewish. It’s just interesting to me, I guess. But what I really want you to know is that I have realized that as I offer myself more and more to you, I am also opening myself more and more to receiving from you. I realize that this is what prayer means to me. This is what I have been learning throughout this difficult time.

I wrote my Hands and Voices piece in the form of a letter, which is often what I write when I need to express something. I started my letter with “Dear Oprah” because I want people to know my experience so badly and, for me, sharing my story with Oprah Winfrey is very much a prayer. You see, I am in a difficult place in many ways and sharing my story feels bold. It feels risky. But I’ve been doing it anyway because I feel it is my obligation to bring light to the problems I am facing as a mother and as a human being. Anyway, it is actually what happened after I sent off my advocacy story to my friend that I realized the power of my prayer. No, Oprah Winfrey has not called me yet. But something has happened and I am hopeful that at least one of the challenges I have been facing will soon be resolved and that my family and I will soon move on from some of the pain that we have endured. It is something that has surely affected us all and, by extension, all of you. That’s just how people work. That is something else that I’ve learned.

Regardless, please know that I am here. My family is here. We have a lot to be grateful for and we share much love. I am grateful for Jason. He helps keep our family grounded. He is always there for me and for all of us. Doing anything and everything we need him to do. We still have much we are working through. One thing is that our kids have challenging and complicated health issues. We welcome your support and your friendship. If you want to spend time with us, please don’t hesitate to invite us. If you want to connect with us, please reach out in some way. I also want you to know that I am here for you and I have much to give. My home, my time, my friendship. I have learned through this difficult time just how deep my well of resources truly is and I am here to share it with you, my community. I realized today that I have never described myself this way, but in reality I am simply an activist. The point is that if you need something, please reach out. I want to share and I will take action somehow. That’s what I do.

I am writing this from my cabin in Fairplay (also known as South Park). This cabin has provided my kids and me with security and stability since 2010, especially as we have surfed our many waves of change. Four years ago we finally settled in our house in Denver and we are rooting ourselves there, but this place is more special to me. It is sacred. It is my temple. It is where I keep things I treasure. It is my retreat. It is where I bring my loved ones when I want us to be together without the distractions of our everyday lives. It’s where we reconnect with one another. It’s where I find peace and quiet. It’s a place where I know I can find solitude and a place for reflection, even when there is chaos is my life. It’s a place we play and rest and recharge. It sustains us. It is also a place that I want to share with you. Jason and I have started welcoming others to the cabin through AirBnb and it has been an amazing experience. The people we have hosted care about this cabin as if it is their home, as well. I am grateful for these people. I am also grateful for Jason’s help. Without him, this is something I could not have accomplished. Please know that this cabin is also here for you. In my mind it is a community place. It can be your retreat. It can provide your family reconnection and respite from your everyday lives. It can be your place to think and create with your people. Buzzsaw Lane

I also want you to know about the things I am involved with because they are my offerings to you, as well. I am learning a lot about POTS syndrome, depression, anxiety, giftedness, neurodiversity, twice exceptionality, PTSD, the LGBTQ community, educational interpreters, and how addiction affects families. I also work with several organizations because they serve my family and they are also here to serve you, because you are my community. These days I am most involved with Hands and Voices, CueSign, Inc., and the Rocky Mountain Cued Speech Association, which is an affiliate of the NCSA. You can learn more about me, my family, and these organizations by checking out their websites. As you will see, these organizations are certainly related to families and communities that include Deaf and hard of hearing people. I hope you understand that this community includes you because you are part of my community and we all belong to one another.

If you are interested in learning Cued Speech or in meeting other people who cue, sign, or do both, I definitely want you to and so does my family. I can help you. There is an inexpensive self-paced online Cued Speech class now through Cue College. Please check it out here LEARN CUED SPEECH HERE if you are curious or at all inclined to learn or brush up on your skills. It is important to me and to our family and it could be important to someone else you know and love. Please share these resources and direct people to me so I can help.

If you want to spend time with me and my family in a really meaningful way, we will be spending time at a family camp, as we often have since 2005. Certainly some of you have come along with us on these adventures and they are memories that we all cherish. This summer we will be at a camp in Illinois with CueSign. We would love to see you there and you will be able to get more information by checking out the CueSign, Inc. website.

I am grateful to have you all in my life and I am here to support you as you have supported me. In the end, we all belong to one another.

With much peace and love,

Lisa

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