Saturday, January 23, 2010

James Ware Admits Drugging Woman at Bar (Date Rape Drug)


Lee’s Summit man admits drugging woman’s drink at KC bar.
James W. Ware, 50, admitted that on July 1, 2008, he approached a woman at the Bulldog Restaurant and Bar at 1715 Main St. and spoke with her for about 20 minutes. When she ducked outside for a smoke, Ware added half of a .25 mg tablet of Alprazolam to her drink.

A bartender saw what Ware did and warned the woman when she returned. A laboratory later confirmed the presence of Alprazolam in the drink.

http://www.kansascity.com/news/breaking_news/story/1701179.html

I really want to know about the thinking of the male college student, who believes it OK to use a drug to "get her in the mood." This phrase has been used several times when men tell me what they have heard from older students, in using alcohol (usually everclear, grain alcohol) or drugs to facilitate a sexual encounter, also known in the legal system as Rape, since consent cannot be given under these circumstances. If you know of individuals who like to "stack the deck" in their favor by getting women intoxicated (kind of like the plot in the 40-year-old virgin movie) please tell them to email me or call on the phone for an anonymous interview to express their side of things.
more on drug facilitated rape:  http://marysbeagooddogblog.blogspot.com/2009/09/drug-facilitated-rape.html

"Just because she gave birth to you, doesn't mean she likes you". Wendy Murphy

Here is a wretched/teaching/ends well story from Wendy Murphy about The Issue.

NO MORE SECRETS
By Wendy J. Murphy

When I first met Julie we were four years-old. I moved into a gray house three doors down from where she lived in a little white colonial with green shutters. We were inseparable - except when the other same-aged girl on our street took one of us away from the other - or I took one of them away, etc. Even back then, three little girls rarely played well together.
Over the next decade, we spilled gallons of tears when it was our turn to be excluded. We lived on a street where the average family had four or five kids. It was crushing to be the one with no friends in a neighborhood filled with so many potential playmates.
When we got to junior high, all that seemed silly after Julie stopped coming to school. At first she said it was because she was sick - and they didn't know what was wrong.
Then one day, she called to tell me she was in a "locked ward" at a local hospital.

"What's a locked ward"?, I asked.
She said it was a section of the hospital where you can't get out - and if you try to escape - they chase you.
I assumed it was because her sickness was contagious, like some kind of plague.
I went to visit Julie the next day. Her eyes were sunken and her skin was gray. Her clothes hung loose on her shockingly thin body and her roommate looked like a zombie. Being a politically incorrect 14 year-old, I asked what was up with the weird roommate. "She's doing the Thorazine shuffle", Julie said with a tired half-grin, "because she tried to kill herself".
"I tried to kill myself, too" - she added.
"Why the hell would you do that"?, I asked, incredulous and a bit angry.
"I told my therapist I remembered something terrible. He asked me to tell him more but I couldn’t. I said I would die if I remembered more - but then I did. It was awful".
I stared, confused. "What are you talking about?"
"My grandfather - the bed - my body - the pain."
My mouth dropped.
"When I was seven, I told my mother", Julie continued. “I was crying so hard I couldn’t breathe and she just stared at me. Then she smacked me and told me never to say it again. After that, she kept sending me to stay with him so he could do it again and again."
Julie put her head down and I could see tears falling to the floor past her jet black hair.

I couldn't speak.
Julie’s mom was the kind who baked a cake every day and put it on one of those glass pedestals you see in fancy bakeries. And she packed the best lunches. I'd have a meatball sandwich - and cheap crackers from the bulk food aisle and Julie would have fancy cold cuts - two Pop Tarts - and so many extras her lunch bag was often overflowing. I wanted that perfect life. Hell, I just wanted a Pop Tart once in a while.
Who knew it was all cover for unspeakable brutality?
It's not that we hadn't heard about perverts growing up. A guy at the corner store once pulled his pants down in front of Julie. And a teenager in my neighborhood touched me inappropriately - then offered me a nickel not to tell. Of course, I took the nickel and told right away. His dad was a cop so he didn't get in much trouble. It was weird but never a secret, and my parents did all the right things to show they valued my well-being.
Julie's mother clearly didn't feel the same way. This was almost harder to hear than the abuse itself. Kids depend on relationships of trust to help them grow into loving and healthy adults - so they can then develop loving relationships of their own. When trust is betrayed, it creates a virus in the emotional wiring of a child’s brain. As Professor Jennifer Freyd, PhD, author of “Betrayal Trauma”, notes, "When abuse occurs in the family it involves high amounts of betrayal and psychological damage because it’s the family’s job to protect the child. If the abuse is then denied, the betrayal is potently toxic and the child will often suffer serious consequences throughout the lifespan.”

Julie suffered alright. She stayed in the locked ward for a long time - and she never came back to school. When she got out, things were better. She got married at 16 and had three kids. Her wonderful children know everything - including the part about their grandmother. Openness about the topic has helped all of them deal with Julie's ongoing severe PTSD and other medical problems related to the abuse.
Julie even found a way to understand her mother's cruelty. Turns out the grandfather had abused her, too, but because nobody talked about it, she never resolved her own issues. If she had, she’d have known how profoundly helpful it would have been to just hug her sobbing child – and reveal her own suffering. When mothers share their pain, it empowers children to understand things that most kids are too young to process on their own. This simple act of helping a child understand trauma, is the best protection against long-term psychological damage.
Julie doesn’t exactly forgive her mother and she feels bad about that. So when we have time to talk, I tell her forgiveness is overrated, which always brings us back to what one doctor said the day Julie landed in the locked ward:
"Just because she gave birth to you, doesn't mean she likes you".
The first time she heard it - she cried.
These days - it makes both of us laugh.
More Wendy Murphy at:
links to wendy's columns



Friday, January 22, 2010

Martin Luther King Week at K-State and Manhattan

Dr. Martin Luther King's Dream
is kept well alive each year at K-State and in Manhattan.

see details at  http://marysbeagooddogblog.blogspot.com/2010/01/martin-luther-king.html
here are a few pics from various events. click on pic to enlarge

No seconds for you!

Getting ready for the (amazing) matinee event.


Annual Program



Candlelight performance.


The Speaker:





Dr. Myra Gordon

Something quite ExtraOrdinary occured at the matinee.
 I want eventually try to describe some of that.
First were several points made in the matinee itself, and second was a set of circumstances related to K-State and Dr. King.

I will have to write about this in another post. But for the Full story, you can Contact Dr. Myra Gordon.

I do want to draw attention now, to one point made in the matinee.
(A free showing:) The Civil Rights Matinee featuring “The Witness: From the Balcony of Room 306” A documentary featuring Rev. Billy Kyles who reflects on the assassination of Dr. King, and events leading up to it, as Rev. Kyles stood on the balcony only a few feet away from King.
First: this was an excellent piece of filmaking, weaving several threads/perspectives of events into a remarkable tapestry of historical documentation.

The one point i want to reiterate today, in our public age of greed and corruption, of living in luxury on the donations of others, of fancy hotels and sumptuous meals on the taxpayer dime...

Reverend Kyles made the point, so pertinent to our youth today:
(papraphrasing, forgive my inaccuracies))
Consider the Manner of death of Dr. King.
Dr. King did not die running from a crime. or at the hands of a jealous lover or in the middle of a drug deal, or in a drunk driving accident.
He did not die in any manner which was shameful or in any way a poor reflection on his life.
He in Fact,
was killed, putting his Life on the line,
while in a Humble little motel,
working hard,
his heart filled with compassion,
 for those humblest, lowly, the poor,
the Sanitation Workers.
Men who picked up and disposed of everyone else's Garbage.
Garbage Pick-up Men.                                                                          Remind you of anyone?



 





A Day of Service at the Mall:






Volunteers helped other volunteers serve all over Mnahattan on Monday.

Many of us are grateful for the work so many do.

The Season for Nonviolence is the 64 days between the death memorials of Dr. King and Mohandas Ghandi. Started in Los Angeles, we have A Season for Nonviolence Here at K-State! http://www.k-state.edu/nonviolence/links/season.htm


and here's a video of Getting Ready for the Day of Service at the Mall:    at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cuTpff9ahoI

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

Sugar Eyes


Give me a dog with sugary eyes.





Last Night Movie Event, "Trade" and Kristen's Story

click here for Kristen's Story

How do you Thank a very Young girl/woman, who endures great trauma and horrifying realizations, almost entirely by herself, and then turns it, churns it, to Help Us?
How do you express admiration for someone yanked out of early innocence who uses the pain to help others?
She says,
"spread the word. wake people up."
Thank you for your story.



Tuesday, January 19, 2010

Who He Is - A Survivor Story (adults only please)

Various students and others speak to me about their trauma events.
 Some stories are posted here that those still in silence may feel less alone.
Everyone who begins to let out the Poison is on a Healing Road. By giving me permission to share, they lessen the burden of others. For this simply told story, Thank You.
(this is a story of trauma, please be advised. )

WHO HE IS
My dad’s best friend growing up since they were 5 was G. They grew up playing together. They both were coaches for high school and loved their jobs. G’s wife and my mom were friends too and had known each other since college. They had three sons, J, G, and R.
I always felt out of place when we went to visit; I was the only girl with four guys, my brother included. G, especially always tried to make me feel included in the fun. I was so shy though, I usually stayed with my mom or played with their cat outside. Mr. G would always play around with me by trying to chase me and give me kisses; it was innocent, however. He thought of me like his daughter.

He and my parents always would joke about how wonderful it would be if G, his middle son and, I grew up and got married. G was the closest to my age, only a few years older, and very good looking; he knew it too. I would always get embarrassed when they would talk about me and G because I thought there was no way I would ever marry G; he was too attractive for me; I was not near pretty enough to catch his attention. I hated when they would make jokes because it made me feel even more aware that I was not pretty enough to ever have someone like him. I secretly had a crush on him and was nervous enough around him without their jokes.
THAT NIGHT
That night G had asked my parents if it was alright if he took me to a party with some of his friends. Of course they agreed and I made plans to go. We all went out to eat, except for G, and we got back too late for me to go to the party. Of course I was a little disappointed, but a little relieved since I had never been to a party like the one G was going to and I was nervous.

Instead I ended up watching a movie in their game room and falling asleep on the couch. Usually I would sleep with my mom in J’s room. I woke up really late, or early depending on how you look at it, to G’s voice in my ear. He told me he was sorry I didn’t get to go to the party with him. I sat up and he told me to come sit next to him on the bigger couch. I got up and went to sit next to him.

His breath smelt strong of alcohol and he was slurring his words. We sat and started talking and then he ran outside and started throwing up. I didn’t know what to do, so I went to the kitchen and got him a glass of water. I brought the water outside to him. He yelled at me to get back in the house and that he didn’t need the water. I told him he should take the water anyway and he did. I went back in the house and waited.

When he came in he said he was fine. I went and got him some more water and we sat back on the couch. He kept saying he was sorry I didn’t get to go with him to the party. He put his arm around me when we were sitting on the couch. I was so surprised and so nervous. Shortly after he forcefully kissed me. I was shocked. G had never hinted he would ever want to kiss me. We were like family. I kissed him back but soon tried to stop because
his breath was so awful from the alcohol.
It was a nasty feeling.
So fast that I don’t remember how,
he ended up on top of me kissing me all over my face and neck. He was so heavy on top of me. He grabbed my chest and put his hand up my shirt. He hurt me when he touched my breasts because he was so forceful. Everything happened so fast. Before I knew it he was licking my breasts. I tried to pull his head up to make him stop.
It felt icky.
He stopped after this and just laid next to me for a minute.
I just laid there shocked and nervous.
 I thought it was fine now.
He put his arm around me and just looked at me. Then he kissed me again and was on top of me so fast I couldn’t stop it. He put his hands in down my pants and put his fingers inside of me. It hurt so badly. I tried to pull his hand out but I couldn’t. He was too strong. Finally he stopped, but he grabbed my hand and made me feel his penis. I got up from the couch and the blanket that was on top of him slid off. He was naked. I didn’t have a clue how he did that without me knowing. He grabbed my hand and pulled me back on the couch and said we would just kiss. He started kissing me again before climbing back on top of me.
The rest felt like nothing else I have ever experienced. I felt like my body was disconnected from my spirit. I was watching him hurt me from the chair next to us. I have no idea how long he was on top of me, although I don’t think it was a very long time. It hurt. I was frozen. I could not move. I could not speak. I could only lay there, helpless. I was terrified. Then I was numb. Mostly I felt like I wasn’t me anymore.
I felt like my body was merely matter taking up space and I was watching it lie there helpless from a distance.
It did not connect to the rest of me.
Finally I connected with myself enough to push him to my side. After that, though, I couldn’t move again, partly because of the pain. He lay there a few seconds and then said he should leave because he didn’t want my dad to find us there and get mad.
After hours of laying there wide awake and scared, I went to the bathroom.
I hurt so bad and was bleeding a little. I didn’t know what to do, so I didn’t wake anyone up.
I was terrified and confused. I went back to the couch and cried. I did not sleep.
AFTER
For months no one knew.
Terror filled my heart and mind: terror that no one would believe me; terror of what would happen to my dad if I broke up his friendship with his best friend;
 terror of what people would think.
I had nightmares several times a week.
My parents would hear me crying in my sleep at night.
 Usually I would not even be awake, yet I would still cry. I would scream so loud in my sleep, my whole family would wake from a deep sleep.

We kept going to their house after it happened to visit.
I cried every time we went. I stayed with my mom at all times. Once I took my boyfriend when we were staying the weekend. I was terrified every time I found out we were seeing them.
When I was learning to drive,
I backed out my dad’s truck and accidentally hit the gas too much and ran over my mailbox.
It was a brick mail box.
 The bricks came crashing down all the way and my parents and some neighbors heard it and ran outside. I was afraid I would never be allowed to drive again and was crying. My parents eventually tried to calm me down and told me later it would all be OK. They said we were going to visit that weekend and we would have fun. When they told me that I started hyperventilating and crying so hard. I begged them not to make me go. They wanted to know why and I said I didn’t want to see G. They told me not to be rude and asked why I hated him so much. I fell on my knees, I was crying so hard. My dad left my room and my mom talked to me. I told her G hurt me and I couldn’t see him anymore. My dad came back in and my mom told him what I said. I didn’t tell her the whole story, only what I could get out at the time.
My dad immediately called G’ dad and told him what I said.
Of course that didn’t go over well. They wanted to know if we were pressing charges.
 My mom told them we didn’t know yet.
My mom talked to the DA but they didn’t want to take the case because too much time had passed and there was no physical evidence.

LIFE NOW
This experience has changed my life forever.
I have not looked at the world in the same way, and probably never will. The pain was so overwhelming and barely describable. Finally years later, I am able to live life somewhat normally again. I still think about what happened everyday, but I do not get upset everyday.
I believe what has helped the most
 is becoming involved with a student group I’m in now and being very active in raising awareness and helping other survivors of sexual assault.
It makes me happy to be so active in a group who helps so many people and raises awareness in our community.
I do not share my story often, but I believe it is important for people to know that this does happen to real people that they know and it is not OK.
Sexual assault and rape are horrible acts that terrorize the victims and their families.
A change needs to occur now to prevent these horrifying acts from occurring to more people.
One way to help change occur is for victims to share their stories and for more people to recognize that rape is a real problem and be active in doing something about it.


If this story has awakened feelings of trauma for you, please contact a friend, a pastor or rabbi, a counselor, a clinical psychologist. Talking about trauma lessens it after the intial fears. You can take your power back.
Click here for contacts: http://www.k-state.edu/womenscenter/
and here: http://www.k-state.edu/womenscenter/documents/Need%20to%20talk%20(2).pdf
and here: http://www.k-state.edu/womenscenter/documents/feeling%20down.pdf

Planet in a Storm

this is for the very good dog, br, on a foreign planet, seemingly, and  lonely?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uHdcyue0bSw