i never write serious entries in any of my journals anymore. however, i did write one in my afrodiary on monday night when i was really upset after training. here it is:
i didn't expect training at the crisis center to be traumatizing. tonight i got to hear the 911 call of a 6 year old named jamie. jamie's mother was being domestic-violenced (yes, it is now a verb), and she called for help. in the middle of the call, you could hear the mom in the background yelling, "call 911." and she responded, "i am, i'm trying to get help". the dispatcher asked if mommy's ex-boyfriend had a gun or a knife and jamie said yes. jamie mentioned how her cat was scared. then she said her mommy fell down the stairs and she said she was going to go check on her. when she came back, she said "mommy's dead".
i spent the rest of the session bawling. i spent the ride home bawling. i cried in kat's arms.
one of the other volunteers said she couldn't imagine a fear like that. the problem is that this 911 call hit so close to home for me that it made me feel guilty for not doing anything all of the times my mother's had this shit to deal with herself. the thing is, i was taught NOT to call 911 because eventually everything would be okay.
the statistics are staggering. the statistics scare me, they make me worry about my mother and my brothers. 90% of all juveniles locked up for homicide killed their mother's abuser.
that 911 call made me realize that there are a lot of things in my childhood that i never dealt with. i knew this to an extent from my sessions with diana, because she asked me what my coping mechanisms were and i couldn't come up with any. but now i worry that i repressed everything i could and i'm going to find something out later that's worse than anything i can remember now.
i'm afraid i take myself too seriously, that this introspection that i'm prone to is going to damage me more.
--
training tonight was less traumatic. we did special victims, empathy, and offenders. i've really come to like the group of people i'm working with and i'm gonna be sad when training's over and i won't get to see them so often. we've got a really diverse group of people. most of them are moms, but we all have different backgrounds, and darlene did a good job with adding the two token queers, jason and myself. i've come to really like this one lady, marsha. she's hilarious.
kat and i just CANNOT go to a grocery store and spend less than $50. we're fucking retarded, i don't know. we got enough stuff to snack on for a couple of days, plus two to three full meals. WHY IS EVERYTHING SO FUCKING EXPENSIVE? how will i ever be a mommy if i can't feed two people for two days with less than fifty dollars?! we'll be so poor we'll use cloth diapers and live in a trailer, how do you do it, robyn?! what am i bitching about? i'm not gonna be a mommy for a long time. i won't be able to afford artificial insemination for a long time.
my glasses are BROKEN. i need to find time to take them to get fixed tomorrow afternoon between school and eating and possibly buying a car and work. fuck me. i was supposed to take my EXIT EXAMS (read: graduation) tomorrow too. i don't have enough time in a day.
here's something i'm excited about: i made white pizza for dinner. garlic and pesto and basil and a shit ton of mozzarella cheese and olive oil and happiness. i just get so happy when i do something domesticated that i feel the need to share. too bad you bitches didn't get any of that pizza, huh? well, except for becky. but she also had sex with me. fair trade, right?
can somebody please tell me why my dog is pregnant? why couldn't i just set aside the fucking thirty dollars to get her spayed? motherfuck.
eat me.
i didn't expect training at the crisis center to be traumatizing. tonight i got to hear the 911 call of a 6 year old named jamie. jamie's mother was being domestic-violenced (yes, it is now a verb), and she called for help. in the middle of the call, you could hear the mom in the background yelling, "call 911." and she responded, "i am, i'm trying to get help". the dispatcher asked if mommy's ex-boyfriend had a gun or a knife and jamie said yes. jamie mentioned how her cat was scared. then she said her mommy fell down the stairs and she said she was going to go check on her. when she came back, she said "mommy's dead".
i spent the rest of the session bawling. i spent the ride home bawling. i cried in kat's arms.
one of the other volunteers said she couldn't imagine a fear like that. the problem is that this 911 call hit so close to home for me that it made me feel guilty for not doing anything all of the times my mother's had this shit to deal with herself. the thing is, i was taught NOT to call 911 because eventually everything would be okay.
the statistics are staggering. the statistics scare me, they make me worry about my mother and my brothers. 90% of all juveniles locked up for homicide killed their mother's abuser.
that 911 call made me realize that there are a lot of things in my childhood that i never dealt with. i knew this to an extent from my sessions with diana, because she asked me what my coping mechanisms were and i couldn't come up with any. but now i worry that i repressed everything i could and i'm going to find something out later that's worse than anything i can remember now.
i'm afraid i take myself too seriously, that this introspection that i'm prone to is going to damage me more.
--
training tonight was less traumatic. we did special victims, empathy, and offenders. i've really come to like the group of people i'm working with and i'm gonna be sad when training's over and i won't get to see them so often. we've got a really diverse group of people. most of them are moms, but we all have different backgrounds, and darlene did a good job with adding the two token queers, jason and myself. i've come to really like this one lady, marsha. she's hilarious.
kat and i just CANNOT go to a grocery store and spend less than $50. we're fucking retarded, i don't know. we got enough stuff to snack on for a couple of days, plus two to three full meals. WHY IS EVERYTHING SO FUCKING EXPENSIVE? how will i ever be a mommy if i can't feed two people for two days with less than fifty dollars?! we'll be so poor we'll use cloth diapers and live in a trailer, how do you do it, robyn?! what am i bitching about? i'm not gonna be a mommy for a long time. i won't be able to afford artificial insemination for a long time.
my glasses are BROKEN. i need to find time to take them to get fixed tomorrow afternoon between school and eating and possibly buying a car and work. fuck me. i was supposed to take my EXIT EXAMS (read: graduation) tomorrow too. i don't have enough time in a day.
here's something i'm excited about: i made white pizza for dinner. garlic and pesto and basil and a shit ton of mozzarella cheese and olive oil and happiness. i just get so happy when i do something domesticated that i feel the need to share. too bad you bitches didn't get any of that pizza, huh? well, except for becky. but she also had sex with me. fair trade, right?
can somebody please tell me why my dog is pregnant? why couldn't i just set aside the fucking thirty dollars to get her spayed? motherfuck.
eat me.
VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
shal:
Heh.. of course I do. 
The acceptance email was my mistake, sorry.. I was trying to delete a bunch of people who'd applied, but I accidentally clicked "Accept" instead of "Decline." My fault, totally.
The acceptance email was my mistake, sorry.. I was trying to delete a bunch of people who'd applied, but I accidentally clicked "Accept" instead of "Decline." My fault, totally. 
kovu:
hehe thanks for the comment, hotstuff! (im lame) to answer the Q you emailed me... half. girls like you should come to canada. 