Category Archives: Sarah’s Thoughts

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30 Things To Do When You’re Burned Out Before 30

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In a little over 7 months, I’ll be turning 30 years old.

Ugh.

Honestly, the thought terrifies me. I’ve been avoiding it for almost three decades, but here we are. Funny how time works. But here’s the rub, I’ve burned the fuck out. You might ask yourself–what problems could a 29-year-old really have? I mean, really. Life is pretty easy.

Wrong.

Dude. I’m in graduate school full-time. I work two part-time jobs. I write 3-4 novels a year (have you ever tried writing one?!). Not to mention I have to find the time to market and promote those books, plus all the administrative work that comes with being an author. I freelance write on the side doing articles, ghostwriting projects, and more. I have five fucking pets–yeah, yeah, I know that one is my fault, but damn, it’s a lot of work. I just went through a divorce. I just started a new relationship (that’s a positive, but it does eat up time in my day). I am attempting to keep a social life alive. I go to church and Bible study weekly.

Basically, I’m saying life isn’t champagne and spa days.

Ya girl is busy.

And, truthfully, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love my life and I love what I do. It’s wonderful and I’m so happy in my life and with the people in it. But the facts are that I’m burned out. I need to rejuvenate. I need to reenergize and I need to do things I can look back on and say–hell, yeah.

Hence, a “30 Things To Do Before 30” list!

Before you start, yes I know I’m not going to die at 30 years old and can still have fun after I hit dirty thirty. However, I’m starting to settle down. I’ve found a wonderful man and I’m thinking of having a family one day. There are things I won’t do in the future and now is the time to do it. Plus, you only live once and I never want to say I wasted my youth.

Soooo, without further ado, here’s my list so far (subject to editing):

30 Things to Do Before 30

1) Do indoor skydiving because outdoor skydiving is for psychopaths with death wishes

2) Swim with dolphins and pet them on their cute little noses

3) Have sex in public and do other weird sex shit you can’t put on the Internet because your mother will read this

4) Take a cooking class just for fun, but mostly drink all the wine

5) Add another $5k to my investment accounts

6) Take a road-trip down the east coast and take a picture in each state with my dog

7) Get a new tattoo that has something to do with books

8) Start a romance book club locally for mostly drinking wine

9) Run a 5k officially or just tell people that you did

10) Pay someone else’s debt

11) Gamble at MGM Casino in National Harbor and win

12) Get headshots done for a new author photo

13) Go to Chincoteague Island and see the horses

14) Re-decorate bedroom and/or living room professionally

15) Do something to make someone feel special

16) Go on a museum day tour around Washington, D.C.–hello, Spy Museum, here I come!

17) Go skinny dipping in the middle of the night in someone else’s pool

18) Be someone different for a night

19) Go to the zoo and/or aquarium in another state

20) Have a picnic on Theodore Roosevelt Island with the dogs in the middle of the summer

21) Go line dancing at a country bar

22) Join a cornhole league

23) Kiss in the pouring rain just like in the movies

24) Splurge on something expensive for myself just because

25) Take a fancy trip somewhere and go to a fancy dinner

26) Invest in better friendships with people who matter

27) Start a new relationship

28) Sign a new book deal

29) Write a new book

30) Reconnect with the Greek side of my family

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Sarah Stories, Sarah's Thoughts, Uncategorized

Rape, Romance, and New Year’s Eve

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Earlier this week, I woke up to find myself completely naked in bed and spooning a quesadilla. Yeah, like the cheese-filled, delicious kind. I had zero memory of the night before, why I hadn’t made it entirely through changing into pajamas, or why I’d gone to bed with a plate full of quesadillas. What I did have, however, was a pre-made breakfast. Sorry, I digress. 

My point is that I wish I could say this was the first time or a very unusual circumstance. But it’s not. I looked back and I realized that as we’ve begun to approach the end of the year, my partying and going out has really increased. Now, I’ve never had a drinking problem before, and I don’t think I have one now–but I do think I’m using drinking and partying as a coping mechanism for avoiding what’s really bothering me. 

New Year’s Eve. 

This time of year is always so incredibly hard for me because in 2010 I was raped on New Year’s Eve by someone that I’d thought was a close friend (You can read the blogs on it here and here and here). I said “no” and “please, don’t” and “stop” and none of it mattered because it didn’t stop. I froze and I waited for it to be over. Then it was, and I walked back to my car completely sober that night, blood dripping down my legs and tears streaming down my face and went home to tend to myself. I spent the next day fielding phone calls/text messages from my rapist begging me to keep my mouth shut. When I opened up to my boyfriend at the time about what happened, he dumped me for “cheating” on him. I closed off every part of myself that night and locked up any bit of trust I had in the world, and love and respect I had for my own body. It had betrayed me as much as my friend had. 

I’ve spent every NYE since then either working or with my husband at home. This is my first year since the divorce. I’m not working. I don’t have a husband. I’m going to be entirely alone on the worst night of the year for me for the first time since it happened. 

And honestly, I can’t fucking handle it. 

So, I’ve been drinking and distracting my anxiety away. With every coming day that we get closer and closer to NYE, I fill my time with friends and people and whatever else can help me forget that the dreaded day is looming over me. But as I was writing my latest romance novel this week, some memories came back to me and I had a realization–why do I treat the heroines in my novels better than I treat myself?

My heroines don’t settle for men that are less than their perfect match. They don’t get ghosted by fuck boys. They don’t let toxic friendships into their lives who try to tear down their self-esteem with their own selfishness. They don’t let past traumas overtake their lives and drive them to make terrible choices. My heroines are strong, fierce, and they know what they want and go for it–in life and in bed. 

And, honestly, that’s why so many sexual assault and rape survivors read romance. Seems strange, right? Sex should be ruined for us, right? The very act should disgust us and make us fearful, triggering memories of the worst moments of our lives. But in actuality, reading (and, for me, writing) romance is one of the healthiest things for a survivor of sexual violence or abuse. 

Between the pages of a book, we get the chance to explore our fantasies in a safe way where no predator is lurking to hurt us. We get the chance to sexualize ourselves again, remind ourselves that we are sexual beings–feel like the woman we always wanted to be. Unmarred. Desired. Worthy. We get to turn back on those parts of ourselves that someone else shut down, that someone else stole. We get to take it back–reignite the flames of a fire that once burned so badly we never thought we could handle the heat again. 

But we can–on our terms. It’s our body. It’s my body. It’s my book. 

Romance is a powerful weapon for survivors and I’ve heard countless feedback from readers of my own books that they’ve been positively effected by the messages I’ve written. I am frequently approached with stories of abuse and pain, women pouring their hearts out after my book shook something loose inside of them that they’d been holding on to so tight for so long. That’s what romance can do–hell, that’s what reading can do. If it’s ever done that for you, tell me about it in the comments. I’d love to know how others have been effected in the way I have by reading a romance novel.

But this isn’t just a pro-romance novels speech. Even though I think everyone could benefit from reading romance novels and they’re the best fucking thing to happen to the literary world. No, this is a pro-Sarah speech. As I get closer to New Year’s Eve, I’m going to have to decide what I’m going to do. Who am I going to spend it with? Should I go out for the first time in years? Should I stay home alone–can I even handle that? I don’t have any answers. All I know is that I feel like things are falling apart around me and I can’t seem to hold it all together. 

So, here’s what we do. We take the next step. That’s it. Just one step. And then the next. And then the next. And we keep going until we’re so far past where we ever thought we’d be.

I’m working on making better choices in my personal life as we approach NYE. I’m spending more time with healthier people. I’m seeing a counselor. I’m opening up about my life to positive people who fill me up rather than tear me down. I’m writing more, and I’m living more. Am I going to be perfect? Am I going to have this NYE shit figured out when the clock strikes 12? No. I’ll probably be crying. But, that’s okay.

In 2018, the phrase of the year was “It’s okay.” And it’s okay that I fucked up a lot this year and I’ve made a giant mess of things. I’m hurting and lashing out and not behaving in ways that align with my value system. I’m reeling from a divorce that shook me to my core, and I’m trying to put back the pieces of my life and figure out who I am entirely on my own for the first time in six years. But, it’s okay. I needed this year. I needed the time to unravel. I needed to fall apart before I could start to patch everything back together to figure out what the picture looks like now–who I am now. 

So, for 2019, the phrase is “next step.” Because that’s all I’m going to focus on. The big picture is too scary and the future is so entirely unknown that I can hardly breathe, but I can decide the next step. At least, one. I’ve got that. For example, tomorrow? I’m not going to wake up naked and spooning a quesadilla. 

No promises on tacos, though. 

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Robinson Ramblings, Sarah Stories, Sarah's Thoughts

I Fell in Love with the Fat Girl

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[This post originally started as an open discussion in my Robinson’s Ramblings Reader Group on Facebook. To see further expansion on the topic, join my tribe of bad ass women here!]

John Legend Lyrics

 

Since foraying into the dating world after my separation and upcoming divorce, I’ve realized a few things about myself that I didn’t even know I needed to realize. There are a lot of women in my reader group who read about my dating stories, funny experiences, sexy sessions, and more. I’m pretty open about my misadventures in dating these days and it’s cathartic and fun!

However, I discovered that out of the thousands in that group, there are many women who may not have a lot of dating experience, or who struggle with self-esteem that directly affects how much dating they choose to do. Watching me go through my dating experiences might mean something different to these women, and I want to explain where I’m coming from and how I hope watching me go through this can inspire you all to do the same.

When I was in high school, I was almost 350lbs. No one dated me, and no guy even looked at me except to bully me. People literally threw things at me, beat me up. I ate lunch in the bathroom most days, or pretended I was sick and stayed in the nurse’s office. I actually failed 10th grade because I skipped so much school because I was so afraid of what people would do or say to me that day. I failed my SAT’s because the day before I told a cute drummer I liked him and he responded with “sorry, I don’t date fat girls.” Sitting next to him the next day to take the test…yeah, it didn’t work out well for me.

I hated myself and took it out on the people around me, and on myself. I was bitchy and a bully to my siblings and the few friends I’d managed to convince to like me for a few minutes. I was the meanest of all to myself. My self-esteem was lower than low. It’s something that takes a toll on you forever. Those memories will always be a part of me, and they’ll always be a part of my story.

When I got to college, I began to try and figure out who I was and I lost a ton of weight. I was suddenly happy for the first time with who I was…except, I wasn’t at all. It was a mess. First, I gave myself to a ton of men who just wanted me for sex. That only made me hate myself more. Not because I was having sex, but because I was having sex for the wrong reasons. I was doing it to make them love me–to make me feel loved and to love myself. I was doing it to see something different in the mirror than “the fat girl” who wasn’t even fat anymore.

But I still saw her. I still saw that girl I hated, and I looked to everyone else to convince me that she didn’t exist. That was never going to happen until I decided to stop, take a look inside, and learn to love me for who I was inside. For my heart, my virtues, the pieces of me that make me…me. I’d hated myself at every weight I’d ever been, and that’s when I realized that it had absolutely nothing to do with a scale.

Over the course of many years and many therapists, I finally learned to do that. Today, I’m still overweight by plenty. The skinnier version of me from college is long gone, but for the first time, I love the way I look. I don’t look in the mirror and cringe. I can’t even remember the last time I felt that way. Instead, I notice all the great things about my appearance and that I’m beautiful just the way I am.

I love myself just the way I am.

There will always be a piece of me that still feels a twinge of “ugh” when I look at the scale or in the mirror, but then I push that thought away and remind myself of how much I love me and the way I look. Those thoughts are natural.

Sometimes I take a pretty selfie to give myself a confidence boost, or just put my hands on my hips and stare at myself with a smile and say “damn, bitch, you fine as hell,” but either way, I don’t guilt myself for those negative thoughts. I just accept that sometimes I’ll feel bad about my weight and that’s okay, but then I make the choice to push that away and pull in the positivity instead.

That’s a choice I make every day. It’s a choice we all need to make every day because everyone has something about them that they love.

Finding that self-love brought me back to the dating scene after my divorce, and it’s made me feel comfortable to go out and get what I want. To go out and have sex with a guy for the right reasons–ORGASMS and love and all that shit. To go out and fall for cute guys who may not work out but who I enjoyed my moment with. To have the confidence to fall into bed with someone and not worry about what I may look like at this angle or that angle or with the lights on, and instead just tell him exactly what I want right now and where his hands need to be…like, now.  😉

Being comfortable with myself and loving myself changed everything. There are still men out there who think I’m too fat to date, and fuck those guys. They’re missing out over there in Shallow Hall because I’m fucking amazing to date and even better in bed. But the majority of men I meet don’t even see or factor in my weight because I never hide behind it anymore.

I’m just confident and honestly, unabashedly myself, and men fall for that. I fall for that. Humans love humans who love their own humanity. This may sound arrogant, but if you follow my reader group then you’ve seen that I put everything out there from the get-go and am just myself–the guy either likes it or he doesn’t and I’m moving on the next day.

But my weight? That’s never part of the equation because it’s not part of how I see myself anymore.

When I define myself now, I’m not the “fat girl.” I’m the girl who is a good friend and loves to laugh and make others laugh, who loves with all her heart, and who believes the best in everyone. I’m the girl who falls hard and fast and gives everything she has to others and is unapologetically in love with love and life.

Defining myself as the fat girl? That’ll never be me again. Allowing people in my life who define me as the fat girl? Get the fuck outta here with that shit. #bye

If you’re someone who struggles with weight or self-esteem or lack of dating experience, find that part of yourself that you love and fall in love with yourself. The dating will follow–for the right reasons and the best orgasms.

You just have to do the work on you first, and that work has nothing to do with a scale, or a mirror, or list of men you wish you’d dated. Fall in love with you, because that’s the most important relationship you’ll ever be in.

The right guy? Well, he’s going to love that about you.
I love that about you.

Erin Bird/Deviant Art

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2018: The Year of “It’s Okay”

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Burlington Earth Clock, Vermont

A year ago today, I was traveling alone to Vermont. It was the first time I’d ever taken a solo trip just by myself and for myself. Honestly, it was one of the best weeks of my life.
 
I’d spent the previous six December’s anxiously watching the calendar tick down to December 31st. To the annual reminder that in 2010, I’d thought I was just going to a NYE party and having a fun night. Instead, I was raped and left to pick up the pieces of a body that no longer felt like mine (see blog here).
 
Taking that week for myself last year to confront those memories head on…to burn them at midnight in a circle with five old women who chanted and taught me about loving my wounds…to the strength I found to stand up to my husband and tell him I *was* going on this trip alone no matter what…to coming home to find he’d destroyed the house and blown a few thousand dollars to “punish me” for leaving him for a week…to making the commitment to myself that in 2017, I was going to put me, first (see blog here).
 
That was my resolution almost 363 days ago: Me First.
 
I failed a lot on that resolution this year, but in the end, I made the decisions I needed to make in order to put me first. In order to choose happiness, choose me, and choose a better life than constant fear and pain…of him, of myself, of life.
 
And maybe that’s what resolutions are. Some failure, some success, and in the end, things are just a little bit different, but in exactly the way you needed.
 
So for 2018, here’s my new resolution…my new motto:
 
It’s Okay.
 
It’s okay to cry when divorce gets painful. It’s okay to be angry when life isn’t fair and the man who hurts me gets away with so much. It’s okay to feel lostand to fail and to have to start all over again. It’s okay to have no idea what tomorrow holds, or what I want next.
 
It’s okay to follow my heart, to date, to maybe fall in love again.
No pressure. No shame. No expectations.
 
2018 is right around the corner, and we’re all going to be okay.

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Robinson Ramblings, Sarah Stories, Sarah's Thoughts

Vacation in Iceland: Bucket List ✔️

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The view from our hotel in Reykjavik on the first morning!

I’m in love with Reykjavik…

In mid-November, the husband and I got to spend 5 days in Reykjavik, Iceland for our long overdue honeymoon/pre-baby bucket list! I’m not going to go on and on about it too much, but give you guys a quick rundown of what we did, plus some pictures!

(Side note: the best way to see pictures is on my Instagram, and if you followed me live, then you saw it on my Snapchat and Instagram Story!)

Iceland donuts! They were filled with a maple syrup/apple type thing. No idea what!

 

Three Favorite Sights:
1) Thingvellir National Park: a historic park where you can also see the North American and Eurasian tectonic plates meet. Such an incredible place to walk around, take pictures, and hike around the volcanic rock!
2) Blue Lagoon: a beautiful mineral hot springs and spa where you can swim, drink, and get mud masks while floating in the mineral rich, hot springs! Incredible relaxing and luxurious and everyone needs to do this!
3) Geysir: some of the world’s largest natural geysers are here, and you can see them explode every few minutes! It’s so powerful, and I’ve never seen anything like it!

Thingvellir National Park

Blue Lagoon Mineral Hot Springs!

Geysir (geysers!)

 

Three Firsts:
1) I ate a lot of strange things on this trip. When in Iceland, you know? Anytime I travel, I’m determined to try the local cuisine and put myself out of my comfort zone. Well…I did that. *squirms* We ate horse, reindeer, puffin, whale, etc. Honestly, it was all pretty tasty, but mentally, I died a little (haha!).
2) This was our very first time across the Atlantic, and the difference of styles and architecture–even the hotel rooms–was so interesting! I actually was obsessed with our little European style room!
3) We saw the Northern Lights! If you’re wondering why this isn’t listed on my favorites, it’s because we didn’t get the best views because of the cloud coverage while we were there. However, we still had the chance to see a good bit (even though it didn’t show up on my iPhone camera), and it truly was incredible!

Fin Whale and Puffin

Icelandic Horse (also called Mountain Beef!)

How cute was our hotel room at Reykjavik Lights?

 

Three Memories:
1) Gullfoss Waterfall: literally the “golden waterfall”, this was an incredible natural beauty! It was multiple waterfalls, so loud and powerful! Despite the fact that I was freezing, this was one of the most beautiful memories I’ll have from the trip.
2) Pre-bursting geysers: there’s a moment right before the geysers erupt that this bright blue bubble appears over the surface of the hot spring and it’s incredible. My camera doesn’t even do it justice to what it looked like in real life. It was one of the most fascinating phenomenon’s I’ve ever seen!
3) The Countryside: We drove over twenty hours total through Iceland’s countryside to get to all the different attractions and cool sights, and because of that, we saw massively beautiful things on our way. Huge mountains of volcanic rock, wild Icelandic horses (very unique creatures!), random hot springs, geothermal hotspots where the ground steamed, beautiful small forests, miles and miles of snow and ice covered grounds…it was sprawling and incredible. Just driving through this country was one of the most beautiful parts of the whole trip.

Gullfoss Waterfall

Geysir about to burst

Driving through Iceland…

 

Three Recommendations: 
1) If you go to Iceland, stay at the Reykjavik Lights hotel.
2) Use Gray Line Iceland tours to see the amazing sights and get around the island. Definitely do the Golden Circle tour, plus Northern Lights and Blue Lagoon.
3) Visit Islenski Barinn for some incredibly exotic local cuisine, like puffin and reindeer.

Want to see more pictures and videos from our trip? Make sure to check out our Instagram (here) and my Facebook posts (here, here, here, here) or my live Facebook video (here)!

 

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Robinson Ramblings, Sarah Stories, Sarah's Thoughts

Me, Too

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Trigger Warning: This post contains discussions on sexual assault.

Photo Credit: http://bit.ly/2yv1Kbp

Unless you’ve been under a rock for the past few days, you’ve seen friends and family members posting “Me, Too” on their social media profiles. Sometimes, that’s all they post. Sometimes, they share more. Sometimes, they share it all.

#MeToo is a grassroots movement where victims of sexual harassment and abuse are coming forward and telling the world…this happened to me, too. You’re not alone. We’re not alone. In fact, look how not alone we are. The movement took off quickly, and the response was tremendous. Because the number of victims out there is tremendous.

If you have a few minutes free today, please scroll through the #MeToo on Twitter (here), and give your love and support to these strong souls. 

I’ve also shared my story more than a few times on social media, and on this blog, as a victim of childhood sexual abuse and as a rape victim during college. (You can read those blogs here). I don’t talk so often about sexual harassment because I just don’t have the time.

I don’t talk so often about sexual harassment because I just don’t have the time. I don’t even have the mental ability to hold all those instances in my brain. It’s so “regular,” so often, so…normal to pretend I didn’t hear the lewd discussions about my body when walking past a group of men, or didn’t feel the pinch on my ass, or didn’t notice that that man didn’t just “trip” on the metro, but rather purposefully groped my breast. So normal to pretend that removing my wedding ring for a job interview is normal, so the man interviewing me won’t think I’m leaving soon to go have kids. So normal to rush to my car at night quickly and lock the doors, my keys sticking out between my knuckles, because at any moment…I could be raped again. So normal to look the other way, to pretend that it’s not happening, to mentally paint a less frightening world for myself just to get through the day like every other woman out there.

Except, it’s not normal at all.

In a perfect world, this showing of hands will help people realize how prevalent it is and how much is needed to be done to change our current culture. So, that’s the question…what do we do next?

Photo Credit: http://bit.ly/2ytyx0t

What Comes After #MeToo?

That’s the big question. Okay, great, we all spoke up. How do we change it? It’s so overwhelming to even think about. That’s fair because it is. Rape culture wasn’t created overnight, and it won’t be solved overnight.

But, it can be solved in a generation.

We can resolve to teach our sons that consent is paramount above all else. We can teach our sons to step in and not look the other way when their friends are engaging in “locker room talk,” or worse. We can teach our daughters that their bodies our their own. They don’t have to hug their grandma if they don’t want to. Show respect, but make your own choices with your body. No one has to touch you. We can teach our daughters that they are more than their physical appearance, and they have more than that to offer future partners. And yes, men and boys can be victims, too.

We can elect role models who don’t grab women by the pussy. We can hire teachers and tutors and coaches who prioritize children’s safety. We can believe victims when they come forward. We can empathize and understand, instead of shame and silence. We can be the support for future victims that we never had for ourselves.

We can teach all of our children all of this, and then maybe, the rape culture we live in now won’t be around when our children come of age. Maybe our children will never have to say #MeToo…too. 

Do you have ideas for how our world can change and grow moving forward? Let’s discuss in the comments!

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Robinson Ramblings, Sarah's Thoughts

When The Bachelor Teaches Us Why Women Don’t Report

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*Trigger Warning: I’m about to rant about sexual assault and victim blaming because I have no fucks left to give.*

Here’s the Back Story: In the last few days, the news has come out that the “reality” television show, Bachelor in Paradise, has been cancelled due to allegations of sexual assault while filming (read more here and here). Long story short, a female contestant was filmed “hooking up” with another contestant while extremely drunk and consent was no longer possible. Producers allowed it to continue, rather than stepping in, and now the show is being sued and cancelled.

Sexual assault and/or rape is one of the only types of crime where the victim’s past personal history gets to be part of the decision on whether there was/wasn’t a crime committed.

“Well, she’s always been a slut. It’s not like this happening is surprising.”

“She was an attention seeker, so this is probably what she wanted. I’m sure it’s all a ploy for fame and money.”

“She was drinking, and we all know her reputation. What did she expect?”

“She had a boyfriend and went on a dating show, so who’s really to blame here? She should have known better.”

The things I’m seeing online today (literally quotes above are from Twitter ) about Corinne’s assault on #BachelorinParadise are literally disgusting. Absolutely has my stomach turning, and I am NOT okay with any of it. In fact, I’m completely raging over it and probably gone off on a million people today over it.

Worst yet, I work with sexual abuse victims a lot and have gotten half a dozen messages today from people thanking me for saying something because they’ve been victims in the past and this entire ordeal is unbelievably triggering for them.

Honestly, it is for me, too.

Is she still talking to the man who assaulted her? Probably. Being assaulted while you’re both drunk is emotionally fucking confusing and it can take a lifetime to figure out where to place blame in your mind.

Is she suing the show? Fuck yes. The producer’s promised to protect her and then watched her be assaulted on camera.

Does she have a history of promiscuity and dramatic behavior? Who cares. Irrelevant. Next.

So, you think she did this for fame and money? YEAH, BECAUSE BEING A VICTIM OF SEXUAL ASSAULT HAS EVER WORKED OUT TO BENEFIT THE VICTIM IN THE PUBLIC’S EYE. EVER. What the hell are you smoking?

Did she have a boyfriend before going on a dating show? Maybe, but again, who cares? That’s for her and her boyfriend to figure out, and you’re lying to yourself if you think producers weren’t full aware and just wanted her on for ratings anyway.

Are her castmates now unfollowing her on social media, so she must be a liar because otherwise they’d be speaking out on her behalf? Are. 👏 You.👏 Kidding.👏 Me.👏 With.👏This. 👏 Shit. 👏  Her castmates lost a big payday and are blaming the woman who spoke up and “caused” it. Big shock–people aren’t supporting an assault victim. It’s disgusting, but it in no way reflects on the victim, but rather on the castmates for being vile.

I don’t give A FLYING FUCK whether she’s been promiscuous in the past, whether she was blackout drunk, whether she was making good choices, blah blah blah.

When a woman is sexually assaulted, it’s a damn shame that the public’s first reaction is to blame her.

What’s happening on social media today is exactly why so many women (and men!) choose not to report sexual assault.

For fuck’s sake. Be better, people.

#EndRant #VictimBlamingIsSo2007 #OverThisShit
#ThrowsMicrophoneatChrisHarrisonsStupidFace #FuckThisFranchise#BIP 

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Robinson Ramblings, Sarah Stories, Sarah's Thoughts, Sarahs Favorites

When Marching Isn’t Enough…

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I know, I know. With a title like that, this post could be going any direction, right? Well, stick with me ’til the end and you can decide for yourself.

Today, myself and half a million other women (and men!) marched in Washington, DC (and millions of others around the globe) for women’s rights.

The experience was unlike anything I’ve ever been through before, and I am forever changed by it. We were shoulder to shoulder with hundreds of thousands of people marching through the streets of Washington, DC a day after one of the most contentious elections in the history of our country.

I expected fierce. I expected loud. I expected drama.

And it was all of those things, but it was so much more. The march was soft and kind. It was generous and giving. It was open and warm. The air was alive–literally electrified–with spirit and excitement and unison. I’ve always spoken of wanting a unified country, but for the very first time I felt it.

Strangers held hands and sang together. People danced and twirled. Chants and mantras filled the air as women helped each other stand taller, stronger, wiser, firmer.

Women offered me free snacks, waters, hats, and other merchandise. We were just sisters, and generosity of spirit ran rampant in the crowd. There were for-profit stands on the sides of the march selling products, but they were all men. Draw whatever conclusions you’d like from that.

There was no question of what we were fighting for in that crowd. Our signs called for equal pay, affordable birth control, safe environments, an end to rape culture, and so much more. We weren’t anti-Trump. We were pro-women. We were afraid. We were brave. We are staring into the future, terrified, but facing it head on and not backing down.

My sign!

However, here’s where the rub comes.

Upon arriving home, I saw two things online and on the television: support or confusion. There were countless posts praising the marchers, and from the marchers, all around the globe. Do you understand the magnitude of that? All 7 continents, and dozens of countries marched for America, for women, and for American women. When’s the last time you saw a march in downtown Washington, DC for another country? This is record breaking. It is historic. It is unprecedented. We, as Americans, and as humans, owe people around the entire globe a thank you for supporting us in a time where it feels like our own government isn’t. Thank you.

They got it. They were there, or they wanted to be. They saw the purpose. They knew what it meant and they knew why it mattered.

Then there were all the men and women who didn’t get it. Who said on social media that women were already free, so why are we complaining. Who talked on the news and boiled today down to a one topic issue (ie: abortion) and decided the whole thing was shit. Who said women in America have it better than women in some other countries, so we should be grateful. Who said…stop marching. There’s no point. It means nothing. You mean nothing.

And that, ladies, is why this post is called When Marching Isn’t Enough.

They weren’t there. They didn’t see the crowd of extremists with a megaphone shouting “fags will burn in hell” and the crowd of women singing love songs, arms linked, in front of them.  They didn’t feel the strength and unity of women smiling and holding their head high despite the men in “Make America Great Again” hats on the side laughed and called out ratings for the women’s attractiveness level as they walked past, and the women who invited those men to march with us anyway because this march is so much greater than a new president. They didn’t see the women who had made hundreds of hats by hand and were distributing them freely to the crowd. They didn’t see the mothers who’d made snack bags for marchers just to make sure we were all okay.

They didn’t see the look on a woman’s face when she realizes her male coworker with less experience and time at the same job makes more than her. They can’t understand the frustration of paying exorbitant fees for birth control and pap smears when a man’s erectile dysfunction pills and prostate exams only cost a small copay. They didn’t feel the flush of humiliation when a strange man gropes us with zero regard for our wishes, reminding us that this body isn’t ours, but rather a dispensable puppet for any man’s fantasy. They didn’t feel the rise in blood pressure, the panic in our lungs, when walking alone and hearing footsteps behind you and quickly wondering what you’re wearing right now–would it look like you wanted it? They didn’t feel that sinking in their gut when the judge tells you the man who raped will only receive 3 months on probation because his future is more important than your justice.

They weren’t there. 

So, ladies, bring the march home.

Teach the people around you what “equal rights” really means. Hold your head up high and don’t be afraid to ask for what you know you deserve. Educate the next generations on how we can do this better. We can demand better. Feel the strength of the millions of women who were there today now standing behind you telling you that you can do this. We got you.

You deserve equal rights. You deserve affordable healthcare. You deserve to make your own choices about your body. You deserve to feel safe from sexual assault. You deserve laws that will punish abusers. You deserve the same pay as your male counterparts. You deserve to be defined by who you are, not what sex organs you were born with. You deserve freedom.

It wasn’t enough to just march today and then move on. This isn’t over. This problem doesn’t just go away. In fact, it may get worse. Take the march home, ladies. Take it with you wherever you go.

#WhyIMarch #WomensMarchonWashington

PS: I met Sara Gruen, author of Water for Elephants, and spent the day with her! It was amazing!

For more photos, check out my Facebook or my Instagram.

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Robinson Ramblings, Sarah Stories, Sarah's Thoughts

Healing In A Moment: My Vermont Trip

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It’s always a sobering and awe-inspiring moment for me when I look back and see how all the puzzle pieces fell in just such a way to create our lives how they were always meant to be.

It’s no secret that New Year’s Day is a tough anniversary for me. I’ve been open about why on my blog (here and here and here). Today is seven years since the day I was raped, and the first year that I’ve actually dealt with it head on.

Healing only happens with time, but it also happens in a moment. It’s all the little guard rails that push us back onto our course and keep us centered. It’s the fated people and places that point us to where we needed to go.

This weekend, I’m in Vermont staying at an AirBnb that I randomly chose off their website. It was the cheapest option, looked safe, and so I booked it. Upon arriving, I realized that the woman who owns the home I’m renting a room in is everything I’ve ever needed, and everything I wasn’t ready for until right now.

She’s a therapist, and a writer. Just like me.
She’s an animal lover, and a spiritual soul. Just like me.
She’s quiet and introverted, but loving and inviting. Just like me.
She’s recovering and healing from her own New Year’s Day assault…just like me.

The coincidence is shocking, but also…not. Life is magical like that. It puts the perfect people in front of you that you needed in that moment. She healed a vital piece of me in the moment our confessions melted together and we recognized a shared brokenness.

In that single instant, I felt a mend.
Small, but substantial.

We spent the weekend together, facing our same demon together, burning effigies and writing confessions and sorrows on scraps of paper to toss into the ash at midnight on New Year’s Eve. We had dinner and talked for hours and it feels like I’ve always known her, because maybe in a way, I have.

I was always meant to meet her. She was always meant to meet me. We were always meant to mend a tiny piece of the other.

Tomorrow, I leave for Canada and I already feel more spiritually full and happy than I’ve felt in years. This trip has barely started, and yet, I never want it to end.

Follow Sarah on her trip by following her on Instagram (@booksbysarahrobinson) and/or Snapchat (@booksbysarahrob)!

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Robinson Ramblings, Sarah Stories, Sarah's Thoughts

2017: The Year of ‘Me First’

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Burlington Earth Clock, Vermont

 

On the last day of 2016, I stood in the center of the Burlington Earth Clock and thought about time. Seems obvious, I know, but stick with me. In (corny) truth, it really was the perfect setting for considering the time behind me and the time stretched out ahead.

2016 was, by far, one of the hardest years of my life. I lost myself so entirely, and hadn’t even seen it coming. By the time I realized I was lost, there were nothing around to help me find my way back.

At first I looked for who was to blame. My job. My marriage. My husband. My town. My house. My “friends.” My family. My anything that wasn’t me. This wasn’t my fault. Someone else gave me bad directions and now here I am, lost and angry.

So goddamn angry. But the anger is good. Really good, actually, because it fueled me. First, in the wrong direction, but at least I was moving, at least I was changing. When I finally realized that lashing out at the world around me wasn’t making me feel any better, I started looking within. I realized that despite all the shitty breaks I’ve had and crappy circumstances (or people) I’ve been forced to deal with, none of those controlled my happiness. Nothing that was happening to me had anything to do with who I was or what would make me happy.

Only I could do that.

And then, I wasn’t so lost anymore. When you are the one drawing the map, it’s impossible to get lost. Everything is in your control…everything is in my control. I can choose to be happy, even in an unhappy place, unhappy time, or with unhappy people. Those things and people aren’t in charge of my soul, my spirit, my mood.

I am in charge.

2017 is going to be the year of “me first,” and I won’t apologize for that selfishness. I’m no good to anyone until I’m good to myself first. Years of putting my needs on the back-burner for other people has taught me that, and taught me that it’s time for a change.

In the coming year, I’m drawing my own map. I’m slowly going to find myself again, and revel in everything that I forgot I once loved about myself.

I’m going to fall in love again, but this time…with me.

 

Follow Sarah on her trip by following her on Instagram (@booksbysarahrobinson) and/or Snapchat (@booksbysarahrob)!

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