A Testimonial of Gratitude to my “Family”

Every person has their own story to tell. Whether we share that story with others or not is entirely up to the individual. I am choosing to share. Not because I believe my story is more important than anybody else’s, but because maybe in sharing my story I can inspire someone else to share theirs.

Contrary to popular belief I haven’t always been the strong, confident young woman most of you know today. The journey to be the best me I can be has been a long road of ups and downs and twists and turns and I’m not even at the end. I won’t bore you all with the details of my childhood but I do want to share an excerpt of my life that has helped me become the person I am today.

Maya Angelou once said, “There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.” I can personally attest that that is one of the truest statements ever made. I was once a big proponent of silence. Not too long ago in fact I made it a goal of mine to maintain a level of invisibility to achieve going it alone with greater ease. I didn’t want anyone to know my business, my past, my feelings, my thoughts. Nothing. I wanted nothing more than to get up, go to work, keep my head down, and hope that no one made eye contact with me so I wouldn’t have to make conversation. Why? Because I was afraid people would judge me. But in reality the only one judging me was myself.

When I was sixteen years old I was sexually assaulted at a party. Instead of reaching out for help I internalized the issue. I was convinced it was my own fault and I was too ashamed to tell anyone. I turned to food not only to cope but also as a mechanism to make myself fat so I would become so unattractive and gross no guy would ever want to touch me again. I was drowning in self disgust, self loathing, and was teetering on the edge of suicide. One day I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed to take back control of my life before it was too late. Finally coming forward about being sexually assaulted was not easy, and I was not met with the support that I was desperately in need of. But as I stood in front of the mirror one day and didn’t recognize the person staring back at me, hollow eyed, pushing 200 pounds, I knew I had to do something. So I joined a gym. Where I met the most obnoxious, loud, cocky, abrasive, Jillian Michaels wannabe personal trainer named Christina, who called me every time I missed a session, texted me to make sure I ate breakfast, and never gave up on me, even when I gave up on myself. With hard work, and lots of failure before my successes I began to make strides in the right direction. It was an ugly process filled with sweat, tears, set backs, and endless frustrating gym sessions. But I’ve continued to push forward and plug away at my goals as I slowly learned and re-learned, and re-learned again, the meaning and value of self-respect and the importance of surrounding myself with people who are going to support me and not tear me down. In learning to love myself, and put in the work for myself, I have overcome many obstacles to transform into the person I am today. I followed Christina from gym to gym and have settled in nicely with my new “family” at Get In Shape for Women Danvers. With the never ending support of Linda, the manager, and the incredible mentoring from Michael, another trainer, and of course the tough love from Christina, I have a new found love for working out, absorbing physiological knowledge, and working towards helping others achieve their own personal fitness goals. With their love and support I have gained confidence in myself that has enabled me to be proud to share my story, and the courage to volunteer to share that story.

I walk into that gym no matter what kind of day I’ve been having, or what kind of mood I am in, and I can’t help but smile. I walk in and I just light up. Whether it’s hearing Linda shout my name at the top of her lungs, attempting to perfect but never quite getting the secret handshake right with Michael, or walking into a workout from hell (that I love) with Christina, I am eternally grateful to have them in my life. Not to mention all the women stopping to shout, “hi Kate!” or to tell me how great they feel after last workout, or just to tease me about one thing or another, I can’t help but feel like I have become apart of something special. I have a team of people behind me 100% and I have never been happier.

#yesallwomen

I thought twice about writing this. Then I thought three times before posting this. But in the end I decided I’m prepared to deal with the consequences…

Once again I find myself a woman in a man’s world. Back at a job where typically men have us outnumbered but us women are catching up. Working at the bakery surrounded by mostly females, I had forgotten what it was like to hear the shop talk that often circulates between the boys. And I call them boys, not men, because real men respect women and don’t shout degrading comments to each other about female customers. Haven’t we all seen the twitter campaigns and the celebrities endorsing women’s rights? And after that horrific incident in California the hashtag #yesallwomen that took the internet by storm? I have a few to add. #yesallwomen are people too. #yesallwomen have feelings. #yesallwomen feel uncomfortable because of idiots like you.

The incident in question happened a week ago, possibly even more than a week ago but it has really stuck with me. And I’ve stewed over it. And the more it pops back into my head the angrier I get. You better believe I stood up and said something when it happened. But the response I was met with was not at all any form of apology or shame. It was anger. Defiance. Not a sliver of understanding about hurt, feelings, or right or wrong. The bad effect it could have on business. The ill reputation that could follow this person through this small community where the store is like walking into an episode of cheers where everyone knows your name. It was all about how they do this all the time. Why is it different now? Why am I getting yelled at? I just didn’t understand how this was rocket science. Women are human beings. They possess feelings. They aren’t objects to be rated then given a number on a fuckable scale. I get boys will be boys. And to do it quietly is one thing, even though I still don’t agree with it. But to shout across the store with other customers, other WOMEN customers, was embarrassing, appalling, and incredibly wrong on so many levels I still can’t wrap my head around it.

It concerns me how boys are growing up these days. My cousin jokes that his wife hugs their two little boys too much. That they need to toughen up. But incidents like this make me want to hug them ten times more. And teach them from a young age about love and respect and treating everyone the same. I want to trap them in this bubble where they give spontaneous hugs and tell you that they love you for no reason other than you opened their yogurt in the morning or you colored in the right ice cream truck on the Friendly’s placemat. I want them stuck in this phase where they think I’m a superhero and the coolest person to take them to school because I’m “not an adult.” I don’t want them to know the evil in the world. And I know that’s impossible. That they’re going to grow up, and one day I’ll just be a boring cousin to them, but I can’t help but try to calculate in my head how much time I have to teach them all the things I want to teach them and I’m not even their parent. And they have great parents! I just don’t want to leave anything to chance. Because somewhere there is a gap in our society and culture where men learn to dominate, demean, and hurt women for no other reason than they feel like it.

My staff knows nothing of my past. They don’t know that I am a sexual assault survivor. They don’t know that every time they joke about rape in any context my blood boils. And I don’t really think it’s their business. And I didn’t think I needed a reason to call someone out for being disrespectful. I guess that makes me naive to assume that most men are reasonable, mature and respectful human beings. But it still shouldn’t matter. I didn’t, and shouldn’t have to, tell them what they say makes me uncomfortable and angry because of my past. It should be enough to take someone aside and tell them that as a female I feel disrespected by their actions and comments. And it still doesn’t sit well with me that to avoid further escalation it had to end in an “agree to disagree” screaming match to avoid causing any more of a scene. But I really don’t know who I’m more mad at, the boys…or myself. Did I handle it correctly? Should I be holding a staff meeting on sexual harassment and mutual respect? Do I need to print off booklets on how to treat women? Should I just be chalking this up to being a woman in a man’s world? I don’t know. What I do know is, #yesallwomen deserve to feel safe and respected no matter what.