Two things to Add:

One, I’ve not knowingly told a single lie here. The Adventist church needs to look deeply at itself and put the protection of children first and foremost. They need to start reaching out to rape victims within their own communities, not just the victims in Africa.

Two, in my concrete opinion, the Adventist church is absolutely 100% NOT an evil entity. They do not deserve to be treated like a cult. When anyone encourages cruelty towards Adventist people, they’re encouraging cruelty towards people. People I love and am fighting for. It’s not right to be mean to them, and it isn’t what the majority of us victims want. Many victims are STILL Adventist. To prey on specifically eschatological Adventist fears would not be something I condone in any way, shape, or form. This is not a fear fest or witch hunt. My ends do not morally support all means. I’ll follow that old canon-thumper Paul here, when he said, “Be angry, but do not sin.” I want closure, I want these things to stop. I don’t want to destroy the Adventist church. I’m VERY angry and prejudiced, I’ve made that extremely clear. Now I’d like to make more clear the dichotomy of belief and emotion within myself.

Finally, I want to reiterate to the Adventist church, its lawyers, and insurers, that however much I may or may want to get fear in my heart and shut up, clearly, constitutionally, that’s not going to work. I don’t even think I’m capable of shutting up unless I think everyone is safe. I’m autistic like that. It’d work for maybe a year, and then I’d start jabbering truth again.

It isn’t very good or kind to threaten young raped autistic women with libel lawsuits. Bear with me, talk with me, or at least talk through letters screened through yours and my lawyer, help me to understand your side in ethical kind ways and I will listen.

To my Adventist friends and relatives who may have stumbled onto this in horror: It’s a lot to digest. I love you, and I’m pretty darn confused, too. There are no easy answers.

Finally: I’m in a tremendous amount of pain. I’m working on a book right now and throwing myself into it body and soul. It’s fantasy, silly, really, along the lines of the books I used to clutch as a little girl when Scott raped me. I’d dive into them as escape. That’s me. I’m an escape artist, but maybe out where I am, I’ll find a bridge back to all of you whom I love, I’ll find a bridge to my voice. I’ll escape out of wherever I am and back to you.

A change in Blogging.

It has come to my attention that the church's lawyers are watching my blog as well as watching me in every other way that they can. Apparently they are upset that I'm speaking out, along with some other things which they aren't at fault for but has to do with misunderstandings on my part.

It has also become glaringly evident that love is simply not in the picture where they are concerned, or if it is, it's buried under layers and layers of beauracracy. My hope is that they change. But that hope is rooted in between two rocks I hope it will one day spurt free of: knowledge that "I" can't change anyone, and that attempts to live my life based on what others "should" do is simply not smart. I need to live my life right now based on what "I" can do and should do.

This blog was never meant as a medium to argue with the church or point out their wrongs, and I'm not in any way ready to become a public face for sexual abuse in the SDA church. However, this is a role both my blog and I have fallen into. I'm still grappling with that. I don't expect to morph like worm to butterfly, and suddenly be wise and smart, and as a struggling young woman, know exactly what to say and when to say it, so I'll continue, in perfect NLD/autistic comportment, to put my foot in my mouth and piss powerful, well-paid people off. I'm afraid that's constitutional, guys.

My genuine way of life, whether naivete or stupidity or whatever is non-violent. I believe in conflict-resolution as a spiritual, non-violent path. Gandhi is my hero, although I disagree with him on a multitude of issues. I have struggled in many ways with how to apply non-violent (does that mean no lawsuits, no bouts of anger, no yelling? Is it silence or is speech? If I hurt the "other side" have I transgressed or simply done what is necessary?) belief in this situation, and still struggle with it. I am young, still forming in many ways, and don't know much of anything.

But I still think love is possible here, I think it can win out. But one of the things I've been taught (by an incredible and giving mentor who spent so much time writing me and reassuring and encouraging me and telling me I was a talented writer while I was going through the lawsuit) is that different people do different things in the name of love, just as they do with the Bible and the Qu'uran and various ideas of God.

I have no idea what to do next, but I know I can't remain silent. So I'm slowly coming out again after being threatened, etc. This hurts beyond words, but I HAVE to give it words, if only out of love, because it is truly my one guiding light here. I am here to stay.

Some of my best friends were also raped by Scott. You CANNOT shut me up, I would rather die.

A warning to those who have friended me: The SDA church is extremely unhappy with me and have a history of picking on my friends when I turn the heat up. If you are on my list there is a chance that you will be harangued and subpoenaed. They are watching this blog, and anyone connected to it. I won't be insulted if you ask that I stay away from you in this medium. Essentially, if you comment here, you're putting a bullseye on your forehead.

I have alot of things to change in myself and on this blog to prepare for the difficulties inherent in speaking out. I feel unprepared for this. I landed here in a way that pisses me off. But I'm here, I won't be quiet. I can't live with myself if I don't do the right thing here, and I'll do the right thing as best as I know how. I'll make mistakes, surely, but I'll keep on plugging along.

In my wedding vows I promised Robert to always try, to not go the suicide route, as I also promised my lawyers, Kelly Clark, Steve Crew, and Kristian Roggendorf. Further, I promise here to keep talking, to not just "survive" but survive and live life to the best of my ability. I'm also promising that to the SDA church and those that represent the church. I won't lay in front of the East Salem church, feet from where I was sodomized, dead in a red and gold coffin with a bullet in my head like some beautiful souls have. I promise you.

To God

I lied, I'll write here before going to Guatemala.

This is a poem I wrote when I was at my worst. I am generally against sharing my personal belief system, but find it tolerable when in poetic form. As that great poet Sherman Alexie says, Iambic pentameter, the sound of a heartbeat.

To God
How you lighted faces then and when you
smiled half the world, she swooned heavy-
hard. You fell them, bruising at the jointed
knobs of flesh till stiff-treed all axe entrance
to the mold--you then from dead drag wonder.

It took me a little while to get it through my thick skull that I needed to leave ASAP but it's through now.

I leave on Sunday. I don't come back until the end of June.

I'm tentatively excited. My next post will greet you from Central America.

Yellowstone Pics.

Finally. Pictures from Yellowstone.

I married this guy. Did you know that cigar smoke makes great bug repellent? It’s better than OFF.

Yah. It’s me, hiding behind the mongo smile and even mongo-er nose.

Coyote Creek. It was murder trying to wash in it, the rate it was flowing, and the temperature!

My honeybun husband, on his way to a morning poo. Doesn’t he look like a puppy dog? He’s great cuddling material, I just want to nuzzle up onto his chest and purr when I see this picture.

Our first home. Cozy, huh?

And warm. It took us forever to get out of bed that day. We didn’t start out until about 2 in the afternoon, then got caught in a hailstorm. We were cranky when we got back to the bunkhouse--and HUNGRY! It was the Grand Canyon of Yellowstone, and it was pretty darn steep on the way back. Altogether we went about 8 miles straight up with 50 pounds on our backs, mosquitoes eating at us, etc, etc.

Guatemala

I need a break, it's true. I've been planning a vacation to Guatemala for several years. It's finally time to head out. I need some time to "get away." Brunswick is getting on my nerves. It is small suburbia, with all the middle-class woes suburbia comes with. I guess that's a pretentious dislike. Less pretentious is the fact that I'm going crazy, I end the day by snuggling with Robert and crying. That's not good.

I haven't left for Guatemala yet because Robert is determined to stay in one place and grow deep roots in community. That's a good thing, but someone with my travel-lust, I just need to get out of the US every now and then or at least hop my way to the nearest adventure. Robert and I talked a long time last night and we decided it would be good for me to go alone, to get out of the house and do what I want. I'm only going for a month, and I'll hole up in Xela, with a few side-trips to Tikal. I want to do some heavy writing and learning of Spanish. I also want to work at an orphanage in Xela--do some true good with this blood-money I have. I want to learn. Immerse myself not solely in the knowlege of books, but also in the wisdom of living.

I need, for my own well-being, to back away from my pain about the church, and come back to it, ready to work towards love with new tools and rejuvenation. I don't think Guatemala will give me all these things, but I think it'll help. I've also started back up in counseling and medication.

I leave mid-May and I'm going to try to be several weeks ahead in school (I've ended up taking/working on 29 credits this term, which was stupid) before I buy the tickets. I'll come back around the end of June.

Also, I'm enabling comments. I had them disabled before because my blogs had been subpoenaed during discovery and anyone who commented in the blog was subject to being subpoenaed as well. Now it's no longer a problem.

Naive

When I first went to my lawyer, Kelly Clark, we sat in a large room with windows. I shimmied past describing what had happened to me, and he said I had plenty of proof for him to take the case.

And then he said he expected me to go to counseling and that if I didn't, he'd hand me a big check a few years down the road and I'd be the same girl, except rich. I'd have the same problems and it would be just as bad.

When I got the money he sat me down in a much smaller room and instructed me on how to spend it. He said that one of his first cases won several hundred thousand dollars and in the space of 14 months he was back to Kelly, asking for money. Both Kelly and the client went away from that with bad feelings.

Money doesn't change much in my heart, just in the physical trappings. I can afford counseling now, I can afford rent and food. I have the means to stay home and cry and shake and fall to pieces (whereas before, I was doing that at work). It IS better.

I just don't understand the church. Robert and I were snuggling last night and I asked him, "Am I just so stupid for my naivete?"

He said no. No, you just live as if the world were the way it ought to be.

"Do you think they love me?"
"You're probably not on their Christmas list."
"I sued them."
"Yeah."
"I can't believe I sued them."
"I know."

I wish I were smarter at things like this. I'm so fucking autistic and truthful, at the wrong times. But maybe there is some goodness in someone like me coming along and telling it, not just the way it is in my heart, where the damage is, but how it ought to be.

It is naive. But it's not necessarily a bad thing.