Archives for March 2016

Yes, This is My Blog, But Other People Have Feelings About it Too

March 30, 2016 By Sarah Fader

This is my blog. I know, no shit, right? If you’re reading this (which I don’t imagine there are many of you actually reading it but maybe that’s not true) then, you already know that this is a blog written by me (Sarah Fader). I write a lot of things on here. Sometimes they are stream of consciousness pieces, other times I rant, sometimes I write things that make people laugh, sometimes I write things that make people sad and then finally, sometimes I write things that make other people angry.

For years, I tried to write without thinking about the impact it was having on other people’s feelings. If I did that, I couldn’t be as emotionally honest, it seemed. However, I was speaking with my therapist about this today. This post made my ex-boyfriend angry. I’m sure he no longer reads my blog, since he unfriended me on Facebook. However, I still feel badly about that situation.

What I wanted to say was this: though these were my feelings, I also recognize and understand that he was operating from his perspective and his own set of emotions. We were 15-year-olds who were just learning about life. I wanted to tell him, but I’ll never be able to since he won’t speak to me ever again, that I don’t blame him for not being able to “take care of me.” I was trying to figure my own shit out and I didn’t know that I had a mental illness. I was diagnosed with depression later in life. At the time, I wanted him to nurture me and solve my problems, but I now recognize that this was because I believed that co-dependency was love.

I now realize that to truly love someone we have to respect another person’s independence and individuality.

So, ex-boyfriend who will never read this, I’m sorry I hurt your feelings, angered you, made you sad by writing what I wrote. I realize that I was not being empathetic towards you. You have feelings too and it’s not all about me.

Similarly, I’ve written other blog posts that have made people angry. There are too many people to name here so this goes to them.

Dear people that I’ve hurt or angered on my blog,

I am truly sorry that I hurt or angered you. When I wrote the post that I wrote, I was processing my own feelings. I wasn’t thinking about the fact that you would read what I wrote. Perhaps it was selfish of me. I want you to know that I respect your feelings too. You are entitled to feel affected by my words. I understand and respect that you may be angry with me. For what have I done, I’m sorry. It must have hurt to read those words that I wrote. I’m not apologizing for having feelings. However, I neglected to see that you would have an emotional reaction to what I wrote about you.

Please accept my humble apology and know that though what I wrote might have been harsh, I didn’t mean to disrespect you.

I was expressing my feelings.

In the future, when I write something where other people are involved, I will consider their feelings when I am writing it. Those feelings may include yours.

Much love to you. In the words of Daniel Maurer, I am holding you in the light.

Sarah

The Death of Humor And The Resurrection of Political Correctness

March 30, 2016 By Sarah Fader

I’ve gathered you all here today to pay homage to society’s collective sense of humor. We no longer have one. Suddenly, everything anyone writes about religion, race, children, kittens, refrigerators, printer toner, and bubbles is no longer funny. I’m devastated as a funny person. I pride myself as someone who loves to make fun of things and I can no longer do that. Sadly, I can’t make jokes about the fact that I’m a Jewish person and bad with money. That’s offensive to other Jewish people. I need to watch what I say and how I say it because it could offend someone. This is so sad.

What happened to us?

We used to make dirty jokes and laugh at them.

I remember being a teenager reading Truly Tasteless Jokes at Barnes & Noble with my friend Tim.

Blanche Knott is obviously not the author’s real name.

Laughing at ourselves is fun and cathartic. We don’t need to censor ourselves so much that we cannot find humor in things that are inherently funny.

I have an irreverent and inherently politically incorrect sense of humor and with the current level of collective societal hyper-sensitivity to everything, I can’t even make a joke about pineapples.

Me: That pineapple looks hilarious.

Person on Internet: What are you saying about Black people?!

Me: Uh…I was saying that the pineapple looks funny. It looks like it has a face with eyes, a nose and a mouth. I didn’t say anything about Black people.

Person on Internet: You are offending the Native Americans by talking about pineapples openly. You should think before you write about fruit.

Me: What?

Person on The Internet: Why are you questioning me? Are you saying I can’t be an ally of Filipinos because I’m a minister?

Me: What are you talking about? This is about a pineapple that looks like a person.

Person on The Internet: I find your face offensive. It reminds me of Hitler.

Me: Okay, you need to go to therapy.

Unfortunately, this interchange is not that far off. I encounter all kinds of tomfoolery online. I’m tired of having to censor myself because the majority of people online are scared to offend other people. Apparently, it’s possible to offend someone by breathing these days. I’m sorry for breathing.

I’m going to keep writing and saying what I feel even if offends someone because why not?

Luma, Evil Empress - By The Amazing Lindsay Holmes #Caturday

March 19, 2016 By Sarah Fader

I have always been a dog person, well an animal person who preferred dogs. I’ve had them almost my entire life, except for a period of 4 years, which felt empty and we tried filling that void with all sorts of pets. The one that never entered into my life though were cats. They always seemed rather aloof to me. Not my type of monster to keep. Besides, I was allergic to them.

Enter Evil Empress Luma. A spitball of personality and energy, plus plenty of sass. I have found my best friend.

This girl has been with me since she was 13 weeks old. The little daredevil. The second night, after putting her in her playpen and trying to go to sleep, I suddenly felt something on me. She managed to climb out and snuggle into my neck to sleep, and there she has stayed ever since, massaging and purring me to sleep each night.

She has taught me there is someone that always someone that cares. Suffering from depression, I go through lows that I hide from people, where I will cry uncontrollably when I’m alone, or think I’m alone. I forget that someone is there. She will jump into my lap, rub her cheek on my face, purring and talking, and sometimes, the little imp will pat my face. It’s almost as if she’s saying “There there. There there”. She also knows whenever I’m upset and will lay on my chest purring whilst rubbing her cheek on me again. She knows me better than I know me at times.

She is a sassy girl. She lets you know what she wants. If she is upset with anything, you will know about it. She is a talker, and is always communicating whether for good or evil. And yes, she will model for you whether to show you her diva walk, or her big red bow. God forbid if you remove the bow from her for you will get an earful from her.

She is not a cat, or so she tells you at times. She believes she is a rabbit. Yes, a rabbit. I had my rabbits before she came into my life. She met them, and my baby girl was shown who was boss. Lola, the rabbit won, and became the dominant one. Luma has followed her around, snuggled with her, and even eats her food. I had given them their lettuce one day and sitting on the couch. The next thing I know, Ms. Luma is running out of the room with the rabbits in it carrying lettuce with her. Then proceeded to eat the lettuce. She also eats any other fruits or veggies you will let her. And do not refuse her water infused with Lemon. She will seek it out and drink it, refusing her water bowl.

She loves all her siblings, though I know she resents the attention they take from her from time to time. She has 6 siblings, 2 of which are currently living with us, and 4 she visits. She has 2 kittens, Saki and Kylo, that she live with, along with Lola and Puck, the rabbits, and Lily and Moxxi, the ferrets. She loves and plays with them all, protecting them all.

She loves the camera and hams it up all the time when she is in front of it. She has done this since a baby, and still does. She’s mommy’s best friend and little girl. I love her and all that she brings into my life. Evil Empress has shown me that life is better with her in it, and that she is there for me when times are rough and I need a smile, or someone to just be there when I need to cry out my frustrations and depressions.

Warrior.
Lindsay is a rather artsy, easy going, weird, and eccentric Geek girl who loves animals and is the mommy to 4 of them (2 rabbits, cat, and ferret). She considers herself a connoisseur of whiskey drinking and video game playing, as well as having the beginnings of a tattoo collection. Most days she is bumbling around with software and hardware, whilst at night she is a ninja munching on gummi bears and dancing to music. She enjoys blogging as a way of dealing with the aftermath of rape: PTSD, a miscarriage, abuse, depression, and a suicide attempt; as well as trying to find more Warriors to battle along side.

Lindsay can be found on her website, Facebook and Twitter

My Heart is an Open Book And I Want You

March 15, 2016 By Sarah Fader

My heart is an open book. It’s been this way for as long as I can remember. When I was a little girl I saw a red leather volume of fairytales laying in the grass. I picked it up and held it up to my chest. I could feel my heart thumping against the cover. I carried that book with me everywhere I went. When I felt sad and like no one understood me I would open the hardcover bound volume to a page that was familiar to me. I breathed in the words with my eyes closed and remembered that I had my own story to tell and one day it would be read.

Despite my heart being open, it is hard for me to let other people read my book. There’s pain and secrets inside. I can’t help but think - what if he reads my book and hates what’s inside?

I am naturally an emotionally vulnerable and open person, yet to let another person inside feels invasive and painful. This is a paradox. It’s like a massage that hurts but yet feels good at the same time. I want desperately to be understood, but in order for that to happen, I have to let others open that book and read what’s inside. The prospect of another human being knowing my secrets and emotional vulnerability is scary yet comforting and I can’t seem to reconcile the two things.

I’ve opened my book to people in the past. In response they’ve ripped the pages, spit on them, crumpled them up and burned them in effigy. I don’t know that I’m willing to take that chance again. But, what is the alternative? I’m not someone who can walk around with a shut book and subsequently a closed heart.

I’m careful with other people’s books. I gently touch the covers and take care when reading their stories. I wouldn’t intentionally destroy their stories. Yet, it’s human nature to hurt people. I’m sure I’ve skimmed the pages of other people’s stories and not taken care to understand them.

I’m sick of my stories at this point. I don’t want to read my book anymore. I’ve been reading it for over three decades and I know all the stories and how they end. The pages are worn and old and yellow and I don’t want to care about them but I do. I want to open someone else’s book and learn about them. I want to see their secrets and be privy to their pain. I want to know that person inside and out, just like I know my book. But I’ll never get tired of his book. I’ll put it away in a safe place where no one can find it. It will be loved and I will read pages of it each night. I won’t ever take that book for granted…or at least I’ll try not to.

We are our stories and our pain. We are our joy and our triumphs and I want to know what is in your book. I can’t get close to you if you don’t let me see inside of it. So will you…will you open yourself up to me? Because I’ve shown you my pain, I’ve shown you my scar, and yet I’ve only seen your cover. I’m waiting for you to open for me.