Tag Archives: be respectful

I refuse.

Crazy in Action, Me Myself and I, Menu, reality check, , , , , , , , , , , , ,

I went off on my older house-call lady this afternoon and walked out afterwards saying I wouldn’t charge her, but I wouldn’t be back either.

First see here for a link to a blog from a while ago, but on a topic I’ve had too many discussions over in my adult life: women must have done something to attract rape (this is beyond victim energetics, which often starts very young because of an abuser in early childhood).

Here’s the problem, most rapes are carried out by men. The physicality of anatomy and physiology means that it is very difficult for a woman to truly rape a man the way that men regularly rape women. For the power-based forced-sex to happen, a woman literally has to drug a man to make sure he is incapacitated and still erect. So most female rape perps are age based, older woman has sex with a teenager type thing. We still see that as wrong and deserving of punishment, but does anyone ever blame the boy that is taken advantage of- NO!

Yet we regularly defend men in a rape allegation, as the woman must have done something to invite it. WRONG!!!!!!!!

How about instead of allowing men to keep perpetuating their shitty behaviour, maybe us women should just start going around slicing off peni and testicles. We could put them on ice and have test tube babies that never get damaged by inappropriate behavior from men. I doubt anyone would say that ‘maybe the man wore too tight of pants’, or that they are to blame because ‘they stayed out to late’.

Yet, if we women started a revenge rampage by slicking dicks off, you’d bet your last dollar that shit would change quick. Not only would the men never get accused of inviting such hideous crimes, but the search for the perps would be hard and fast.

So I ask you, why is rape against women not held to the same standard?

This week I’ve heard our front desk lady get called doll and missy. If I had been working the front desk I’m not sure what I would have done. It’s inappropriate to slap a paying customer, but that is what I would like to have done. She is a grown woman, not some little missy to talk down to. She is a grown woman not a doll for a toddler to play with. Get your fucking act together and treat us with respect damn it. How many decades do your wives, mothers, daughters, nieces, and aunts have to be battered, beaten, talked down to, taken advantage of, and treated as less than. Your fucking penis wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for a woman.

The men that are good men should be sticking up for women more loudly, and sometimes that means pull your head out of your ass and do the right thing. It means vote slime-balls out of office. It means vote for stricter punishment. It means turn someone into authorities when you know they did something wrong. It means protect women when you could walk away. It means correcting other men’s demeaning behaviors. And for God’s sake it means never, ever accuse a woman of anything when she has said someone raped or molested her.

And that brings me around to my old lady. She was all Trump supporting nonsense, and I tried to politely correct her. When she proceeded to argue and dig in, I lost it.

I went off on how Trump is a womanizing ass-hat with cronies that are even worse. I pointed out that he was recorded saying he had the right to grab a woman by the pussy. It was played on live television over and over again. I told her: “how did that not register in your brain anywhere, how can you let that slide for any reason”. It should have never happened, our children should have never been exposed to those words used in that way, let alone repeatedly on the news. I said “as a woman with a vagina how can you think a human that says words like that is even acceptable, let alone worth having as the leader of our country”. I explained that even if she ignored all of his other failures, that statements like that should be enough to say no.

It is simply not okay. Women are worth more than that, and no woman should ever be grabbed by her pussy, especially someone using it as a power play. How anyone in their right mind can accept a man that says horrible things like that is beyond me. And I simply can’t tolerate it anymore.

I’m half tempted to put a sign on my office saying Trump supporters not welcome, and willingly deal with the backlash.

If you as a man think you respect women, then you need to look at your behaviors. Do you let other men talk like that to women? Do you call women sweetie, or honey and they aren’t your spouse? Do you stop men when they are disrespectful to women? If Trump said he would grab your wife or sister or daughter or mother by the pussy, would you re-elect him?

This behavior must stop. NOW!!!!!

This is one woman that has to much respect for my own gender to continue to tolerate any of that behavior, and I’m seriously feeling a slice and dice rampage right at the moment.

If you can not respect that women have taken that abuse, and held down jobs, and given birth the the new generations, and raised their families, and kept homes in order, then you need not live any longer.

My own father was that womanizer. Calling women ugly, fat, looking at us like objects for his approval or disapproval, having extramarital affairs without consent of his wife, my mother. I remember when mom found out about the one. As an adult I learned mom knew for certain about 2, but suspected 2 more. See the problem with an affair is you disrespect your spouse by not giving them the respect of choice, you disrespect your spouse by lieing and hiding the secrets and it causes emotional damage because your spouse internalizes that they must be less than, or did something wrong. All the while it was your hiding, secrecy, and lies that were wrong. But that wasn’t good enough, every shopping outing was judgement of complete strangers. How they dressed, what they wore, how they did their hair, whether they met your definition of beautiful or not. Scrutiny of skin color and ethnicity. It was all there and all atrocious behavior.

It made us all hate him for his bad behavior, but no one told him directly. My mother only told him the one time that she knew he was having an affair, and said it better stop or there would be consequences. He stopped just long enough that she quit watching. None of us children were able to say anything, too young and the damage was already done. And not a single other person told him what he was doing was wrong that he was talking poorly of people and mistreating both his wife and his mistresses.

That is why I am so adamant for polyamory where everyone knows and is openly accepting and loving, where kids are safe and taught that love and respect is more important than quantity or rules. Where behaviors are kept in check and always respectful of the entire family. Where children learn how to respect women, especially their mothers, and mothers are supported by extra hands on deck which automatically teaches children not only that women deserve respect, but what the mechanics of respect look like. And no one deserves to be called pet names. Use their real fucking name for God’s sake, unless they request otherwise.

I’m done renting for now.

May you see the respect you deserve. May you know your are loved. May all women be treated with love and respect and given the rights and retribution they deserve. May women be supported and slime-balls ass-hats die (or at least not be re-elected). May women know they have their power back and God’s supports us.

Siva Hir Su

Finding support through clarity.

Me Myself and I, reality check, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

This evening I found myself stiff from one too many days without yoga. I proceeded to fix that while mentally running through things I knew were in my vortex. It was providing relief in several ways.

Now I sit much more relaxed and significantly more flexible, and struck with a sense of I may have effed up, but that it’s because I feel another also did.

In my cycling through my vortex one of my thoughts was that I really deserve recognition of all the things I know, voluntarily learned, and regularly do for others. I’m just tired of feeling like the lowly pee-on.

I have aspirations and dreams, and soon I might actually be able to buy into, or just outright buy a business that is larger scale than my self-employment scheme. Yet no one out in the world sees or acknowledges how much I do, have done, and how hard it was for me to even get this far.

I just wish I had a congratulations once in a while. I don’t even have acknowledgement of my retention rate or that I average a 20-22% tip rate, last month I made nearly $1000 in tips (credit and cash combined), and my actual in-office massages netted $3200. That’s a 30% tip rate. That’s amazing. Yet no one noticed, at least that was acknowledged.

This was with all the odds in my life journey stacked against me.

I grew up in a poverty-mindset laden home, with an abusive father, yet I worked my way through college, graduating in 4 years with honors. I took 2 semesters of heavy class loads one at 18 credit hours and one at 24 credit hours, having to request special permission from the dean to do so. It enabled me to graduate on time. And what no one cared about was that I accomplished it while working overtime at my job at Motherhood Maternity because the assistant manager was caught drinking on the job and sent to rehab while the store manager was on maternity leave. So me and one other staff person kept the store open and running while I was taking a double load at collegiate level. Yet my grades never suffered, only my sleep.

On top of that fact, I graduated in 4 years with honors from a big 10 university after having transferred schools twice due to financial dilemmas, something that at the time was rare to find accomplished.

I worked 2 years using my degree in a graphic design position, not making the income that I needed, even with continuing to work a driving job I started in college. The two jobs combined were still not enough income for life with student loans from only 2 of my 4 years of school. I decided I needed to shift to a career with better chances, but without spending too much more on my already costly education. The massage program won because it also enabled me to help people.

So I had 2 degrees, a massage therapist certification, work experience in 3 very different fields, and I thought for certain things would improve. I began to navigate becoming a massage therapist. I also married Nathan and began helping him navigate divorce, child visitation, and all the related problems. We moved (twice, on no budget) to attempt to improve things again. Then Nathan’s health failed.

I supported a family on my own for a decade and still managed to drop thousands on a failed mobile home remodel and thousands more on vehicles wear and tear from a 90 min daily commute.

After all of that, I released some of my work, to accept my massage therapists’ job upon her retirement knowing that there was a possibility all her clients would hate me and schedule elsewhere. I’ve lost my buildings to being Covid casualties. I had to forfeit insurance switching to the clinic, and currently pay out of pocket to attempt to fix my own health. I have battled thyroid and life-fail induced depression for 20 years.

Yet, I gave birth to two healthy kids at home in water. I have survived Covid financially and that is even with now having both a mortgage and car payment. I now have a majority of all of the clinic clients because one therapist never came back and the other keeps pissing his clients off. I have also gained many new clients that had never been to the clinic before, and my retention rate is through the roof. And during all of this I have lost 2 dress sizes in clothing (regardless of the stupid scale not budging), and I have healed my body in many ways, one being that I no longer fight depression constantly.

Yet no one acknowledges any of that, that is except my Nathan.

So then after all of that I remembered getting pissed over the chiropractor and his new signs that made sure he was recognized, while the rest of us were the fine print to ignore.

My awareness this evening brought knowing it was because he wanted acknowledgement for his efforts and his hard work. For all I know his educational journey was just as challenging and I know it was more costly. But I also have an awareness that his family has always been prosperous, and his previous career was too. It’s not that I don’t think he had challenges, it’s just that his challenges seem fewer and definitely not of financial nature. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe his cards were just as stacked as mine, but he doesn’t talk about any of it, so how am I to know.

So now I have a keen sense that I still want honored and recognized, but I don’t want that to be at anyone else’s being unrecognized. I want us all to be acknowledged for our efforts equally.

See here’s the thing, we all have had a journey. If you’ve made it this far into adulthood, you’ve done a lot. The longer that you live the more you do and learn and accomplish.

But some us do seem to have the hard road, and it would be nice if those on the easier path could see that and just give some sentiment of congrats for making it through. It doesn’t make their path any less to acknowledge someone on the hard journey made huge strides, but it does help those battling all the odds want to keep fighting the good fight.

I just want people to be more aware of how their actions can be hurtful and if it wasn’t on purpose, then that is what apologies are for. If you are genuine an apology goes miles.

As for me, at this point if I say certain things I could get fired, I’ve already been warned of that because of a prior language/communication fail. Beyond that I can’t really talk about my goals of buying [or into] a business, because I am still waiting on my unique situation to fully resolve and become details I can actually work with. Until I know the full details and have sorted some things out, it’s just hopeful speculation.

So for now, I’m just going to quietly keep learning and doing, and do my best not to step on anyone’s toes or fail to recognize other’s efforts. I don’t need or want to put anyone else down, I just want to feel like I matter and people know everything I’ve gone through to get where I am. I just want a little recognition and honor… Like Rodney Dangerfield would say, “can’t a guy get a little respect here?!”

May you see your own worth even when others don’t. May you honor and respect everyone’s journey. May you see those that have made it through harder journies than you. May you lift others up and find ways to bolster their efforts. May you see that those around you care and respect your abilities and knowledge. May you have evidence of your worth. May things generally go well for you and my your journey get easier daily. May you have the success you seek, not just financially but emotionally as well. May you know that God loves and supports you.

Siva Hir Su

The world needs more like my mom.

Me Myself and I, Menu, When I'm not so crazy, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

First I wanted to share a YouTube video that was a good reminder for me. I told a friend the thing I dislike the most of everything going on is the polarization, fighting, and fear that an awful lot of people wish to participate in. This video is a slight twist to things I’ve suspected and suggested myself, but her words are better at conveying it.

Now for my intended topic :

For every failure my dad demonstrated, every trauma incurred by him in my childhood, my mom showed brilliance. In fact she is the one that I credit for keeping me from being completely like my dad, and teaching me better ways to live .

My mom was my protector, as much as she could be. My mom was my support, the kindness in my world. She taught me how to care about others through kindness and her own personal charity workings.

She knew how to apologise, and her biggest faults were apologizing too much and falling prey to dad’s dominance and a general poverty loop.

My memories of mom are exact opposites to the memories of dad. Where dad is mostly negative memories with a smear of positive ones, my mom is mostly positive ones with a smear of negative (and really the few negatives tie back to dad in one way or another).

My mom was the person in our family that was always doing something to help people that were less fortunate.

I remember one Christmas season my mom was worried that we ourselves would not have a holiday celebration of any significance, and knew she needed to rely on K-Mart’s layaway program to even try to provide a holiday. However, she knew someone that was struggling even worse than our family was. Their family had 3 small children and when she went to put our toys on layaway at K-Mart she picked 3 small toys for the other family to include in her layaway purchase. I remember her being worried about timing because the last payment was due right before Christmas, but ultimately she made it work and both our family and theirs had a holiday that year.

Then there was our next-door neighbor when I was about 4 years old. It was an elderly lady that had emphysema from having smoked for her whole life. The lady lived alone and had no close family to help her. She continued to smoke even while using oxygen. My mom promised her that she would come clean her mobile home and make some food for her if she promised not to smoke while her and I were there. The house always smelled strongly of cigarettes and I disliked being there, and often the lady would have a cigarette ready to light as soon as we left. Yet she never actually smoked when we were over, and my mom did continue to help her every week until we had to move away. My mom never charged her anything, only asked she pay for any groceries paid for on her behalf.

My mom was big on helping at Christmas time. She would always find an acquaintance or co-worker that was having a particularly difficult year. Sometimes she would give gifts, sometimes decorations. Occasionally, if we were having a good year she would do both. I remember several years where I helped her pick presents for other little girls. One year she helped a Mexican family she worked with and provided much of their Christmas. They had moved to Iowa City not long before that holiday season and were caring for elderly extended family from Mexico. She provided them a whole array of inexpensive decorations and small gifts for kids and even bought them a turkey. My father was very upset with her because she had helped a Mexican family in such a large way. I have always respected her choice and it always bothered me that my father kept pointing out their race.

Help is help, and anyone struggling to get through life deserves help. Those barely getting by, need the boost of a little holiday cheer sometimes, and kind hearts make the world keep functioning. That is a lesson my father missed, because he would help anyone that was white, even druggies, but not a hard working Mexican family. Charity is not about skin color, but honoring someone’s journey as being more difficult than deserved, and making an attempt to help another’s life be just a bit better than yesterday. Everyone deserves that moment.

My mom was also a nurse that mostly worked in nursing homes. Mostly working evening and 3rd shifts, there were several times that my mom would have to take us to work with her and Dad would pick us up on his way home. Hindsight being what it is, I now wonder if those supposed long shifts were parts of his affairs with other women. Regardless, what I remember on those nights is how mom always got along well with her co-workers and was kind to residents. There was one nursing home I actually enjoyed going to because they had a resident cat. The cat had made friends with mom because she was the only one that was really kind to it. So, when us kids went, we were accepted by the cat as being friendly as well. It would hang out and let me pet it the entire time I was there. The same nursing home also had a huge fish tank, or what seemed huge to me, and I loved watching the fish. But really, I remember my mom rubbing backs and convincing people to take medicine because it was good for them. I remember her patiently explaining to people that she would help them as soon as possible.

Is it any wonder I have spent nearly 8 years working with elderly? Or that I get along with my mom far better than my father?

Despite working mostly nights when I was a kid, my mom still cooked and cleaned and took care of us children during the day. I remember when I was really little trying to pry her eyes open and asking her if she was ready to get up yet. She would just say “a little longer can you watch your shows please”. I would watch all the PBS shows including Bob Ross and another lady painter that did adorable little animal paintings. That’s where I got interested in art. When I would get bored with TV I would pretend. I would play family or school or tea party, or lay in sunbeams with my kitty and daydream that the dust flecks were fairies. My stuffed animals were great friends when my mom was resting from her work shift. Then around lunchtime she would spring into action, make me lunch and start cleaning, laundry and prepping for making dinner. As I got older she would let me help by showing me how to dust or make Kool-aid.

Then eventually I started school, being the youngest for many years, and she actually got a full amount of sleep.

I remember spending holiday time baking a whole array of tasty treats with mom. I ate far too many things right out of the oven, but it was just SOOOO tasty. The best part was knowing that many of her delicious treats were for others. Should would make goodie baskets for friends and co-workers, she would give breads and cookies to neighbors. She baked pies to help other families have good holiday dinners. And it wasn’t just at Christmas. When our zucchinis would ripen she would bake loaves and loaves and give away nearly half of them. At Easter she would bake cookies and muffins and give them away with chocolates. On her birthday she would always make two cakes, one for home and one for work. All year round she would cook goodies and half always went to other people. When I was in highschool a neighbor made pickles and she would trade goodies for pickles. They would combine their leftovers for other neighbors to get some of both.

When times were really tough for my mom in Utah she would drive across state line to buy butter by the car full. She would take the butter to her neighbors and sell it cheaper than the Utah taxed butter but more than she paid. When she wasn’t running butter she hauled manure, because one farmer would pay her to clean out animal stalls and another would pay her for the load as fertilizer for crops.

She made dolls and crocheted doll dresses by hand. She baked for profit and for fund raisers for school. She crocheted blankets for friends with babies and would give them as gifts whenever she could. She made clothes for us kids when she couldn’t afford to buy new ones.

I have always felt terrible because the year bullying started for me, she had made me some very pretty dresses for school. Yet, they were not dresses found in stores, so kids noticed. They teased me for not having store clothes and then I didn’t want to wear the dresses. I knew it hurt my mom’s feelings, but the kids were hurting my feelings. There was no good solution. It was the first time I struggled with a problem like that. I have always wanted to make up for it and felt I never could.

I love my mom and I really appreciate everything she did for us and especially for what she tried to do for us. I know she did her best to keep dad’s anger at bay and protect us when she couldn’t keep it away. I know she had more than a few ingenious moments that kept our family afloat when times were tough and she made dollars go far further than most people manage. She was strong and compassionate and caring on multiple levels. She put her kids first and God second, and was always doing her best to make our lives and the lives of those she knew better. She is a kind human being and that is exactly the kind of person this world needs more of. I aim to be like my mom as much as possible, and hope maybe one-day I’ll figure out a step even slightly better.

I love you mom.

May you always have a kind person in your life. May you see acts of kindness all around you and find ways to do them yourself. May you have loving caring parents and be successful in protecting your children from the hurts of the world. May you forgive yourself and others when hurts seem to multiply or affect those you want to show love. May you know your presence in the world is helping others to have a better experience. May you know you are leaving a positive mark on the world. May you know you are loved and safe.

Siva Hir Su