Dear Whiny C*nt, MOVE ON

Woke up to another MAGAt using my inbox as his personal toilet.

His missive began with: Dear Whiny C*nt (I provide the asterisk for you.  He was not so circumspect.)

His message to me had to do with my recent pieces written about my experience as a sexual assault victim, and my take on the past two weeks of the Kavanaugh hearings.

I was given the same predictably misspelled, grammatically challenged offerings that seem to be the hallmark of a Trump loving Keyboard Commando.  Cowardly, ignorant, and craven, the message contained the following words, used several times throughout:  "Get over it" and "Move on."

Now, while I long ago gave up responding via email to those with whom any discussion would be as productive as asking my cats to cook dinner, I do have something to say to him and his equally dim cohorts here.

My rape took place 36 years ago.  Here is just some of what I have done since...

I went home, bathed, wrote in my diary, went to bed.  Moving on.

I got up and went to school, day after day, sharing the same locker banks, classes, hallways with my attacker.  Moving on.

I graduated with great grades, got into a Big 10 school.  I moved on.

I got good jobs, working at great places, with great people.  I was promoted.  Moving on.

I fell in love.  I fell out of love.  I fell in love again.  I moved on.

I moved to another state, got another wonderful job.  I moved on.

I got married.  I got pregnant.  I moved on.

I lost that baby.  I was devastated. I moved on.

I got pregnant again.  Her name is Culley.  I moved on.

We lost everything in a hurricane and ended up in a new city living in a hotel.  I moved on.

I made friends.  I made two more children - Kendall and Toby.  I moved on.

I started a cake business and was very successful.  I moved on.

We moved repeatedly as my husband moved up the ladder in his industry.  I moved on.

I developed an eating disorder, weighing 93 pounds as an adult with 3 children.  I battled it, found health, and moved on.

I became a writer - my words being published in countries around the world, in magazines, in books.  I moved on.

I made repeated appearances on TV shows.  I moved on.

We moved to more new places.  I moved on.

We lived apart for 10 years and 3 months so my husband could continue advancing in his career and our children could finally put down roots.  I moved on.

Trump proudly bragged about grabbing some pussy.  I took a deep breath, sat down, and wrote my story - then 34 years since it happened.  I moved on.

My child bravely stepped forward as transgender.  My focus, my protection, my every breath went to him - his life, living it fully, freely.  I moved on.

My three children have all made shifts of their own to new places, new adventures, new challenges.  I have helped them, supported them.  I moved on.

I now finally live with my husband in a new place.  I have adjusted, integrated, moved on.

Since my rape, I have done nothing but move on, get on with the business of living, raising my family, experiencing this world, this life, much love.

But hear me now, YOU whiny c*nt - I will never GET OVER having been assaulted, nor will I be quiet about it any longer.  It, every second of it, is a memory that is attached to my soul with the Super Glue of horror, confusion, panic, fear, and grief.  The young girl I was when it happened?  She is frozen in time, carried within me, chained to me, forced to move on with me.

She is also forced to watch as misogynists mock the pain of millions like me who have been taken, used, discarded.  She is the anger in my heart, the screaming in my head as our politicians pay lip service to us, elevating yet another privileged, entitled, self important man despite mounting evidence that he is not who he wants the world to believe he is.  We all recognize that face - it is the face of a man used to taking and getting what he wants, who is having his sovereignty threatened.  That is not a measured, thoughtful, rational Justice.  That is a spoiled, stunted, self important bully.

I am now 52 years old.  Like every survivor who relearns to smile, tries to live in the moment, focus on joy, and still carries hope inside - I have moved on.  My every success, my three amazing children, my incredible marriage to a man who knows the broken pieces, but loves me MORE because of them - all testament to the fact that I MOVED ON.

As for your advice to "get over it"?  I will tell you what I am over, what we are all over - being afraid of cowardly, misogynistic blowhards like you.

But then I have a sneaking suspicion that is exactly what you, Trump, and the Kavanaughs of this world are now worried about, why you thrash, bellow, spit, strike out. 

Poor thing, take some advice: MOVE ON or get plowed under.  Doesn't matter which.  We are done with you.

Sincerely,

An Empowered Whiney C*nt 

Comments

[SK]

Bravo Linda! Awesome Response!

[Nikki in nyc]

BRAVA, Linda! He may never read this but those of us who do applaud you. We are all sick of their crap. The reckoning is coming. On an unrelated note, I never knew you were a cake wizard. Ever think of doing it again now that you are resettled?