**if you prefer I read to you, listen, here.

I’m celebrating my boyfriend’s birthday in San Miguel de Allende, slurping up flavors, soaking in sunshine, living, fully in color. Visiting the place my Grandmother Honey summered, to savor and paint. And posting smiles because I’m celebrating life in real time. For the first time I’m living. I’ve shared the messy, raw, real, to get here, the healing — not a destination but a journey. For most of my life I’ve been angry, but found solace on a boxing bag, faced my fight daily, and without that practice, I wouldn’t still be here. And still, I’m angry, as I’m reminded how far we’ve come and yet how insidious the patriarchy still is. But a butterfly doesn’t begin as beautiful. There is a progression from caterpillar to chrysalis, And as I breakthrough the cocoon, shaking off the cobwebs to spread my wings, growing, I still grieve, for the trauma that is still a part of me, but I’m a fighter for a reason and I will keep on fighting. For the future, that deserves more, that can be brighter for our entire society.

Last week I recorded a podcast with my dear friend, Teresa Sabatine, speaking to our personal experience with sexual trauma, and her resulting suicidal ideation, and mine … how far we’ve come to heal our bodies and psyches, put ourselves back together again, so far that we’re now working to heal others. And this weeks news of the potential overturn of Roe v. Wade is such a gut punch, a reminder that while we thought we were progressing, we are still stuck, in a patriarchy that wants to repress women by removing our autonomy. Instead of holding perpetrators accountable, we protect them through statutes of limitations and other backward laws. Instead, women are punished, often for what they did not choose in the first place.

How can I live fully when women are still treated less than? To think that if any of my rapes, would have resulted in pregnancy, I would have had to carry my rapist’s child to term. And still I know that this legislation would more likely affect those less fortunate, or the product of incest or otherwise, too young, and that men are still the ruling class, deciding women’s consequences. I’m tired of being angry. And no matter how many times I’ve taken back my power, sometimes I still feel powerless. Using my voice, helps:

So, Fuck You patriarchy, those who are quietly supporting the overturning of Roe V. Wade are the same ones that wanted to dust Me Too under the rug. They are the perpetrators. And for all of the victims, I am YOU. And for all of the WOMEN, we have to show our scars, but not wear them as armor, instead keep being beautiful because that is WHO we are. My diary entry below, written prior to yesterday’s news, because it is my truth. And the podcast here because it is of the most powerful conversations I’ve had to date.

Sunday, April 24, 2022

Grief comes in waves. As I continue peeling back the layers, over the past year and a half of healing, I continue facing the parts of me that have long felt broken, wounded or empty. I’ve longed preached “Face Yourself to Free Yourself,” but take it from me, it ain’t easy.

These days I’m posting pretty pictures, selfies or otherwise, smiling. Because I’m gratefulAF to be alive, but It’s taken blood, sweat and tears to get here. And nothing is one dimensional.I’m not. And healing sure isn’t. I’m learning as I’m going. And the smiling isn’t hiding, but complimenting the other parts of me that are integrating slowly, and sporadically still showing: Anger. Sadness. Unknowing.Putting myself back together piece by piece, albeit with incredible counsel, at times still feels isolating. It’s deep— the world is in deep. There is quite literally an epidemic of hurt people hurting people and I’m sick of the sugar coating. But sometimes I lose myself in the pain of it, of how it has affected my path, my fear of intimacy, my relationships. My whole life I’ve been running. Because when I don’t feel safe, I press the eject button and keep going— because subconsciously I’m still afraid of trusting anyone.

I want to provide hope, to stand for something greater than me, to stand for overcoming, but I keep it real. And as much as I’m learning, I’m also grieving as I’m going. Last night I was up all night livid, angry, at the perpetrators. At our society. For protecting those that hurt instead of those who WERE free. Knowing, that I am both a victim and a survivor. Perspective is a powerful thing. And sometimes my victim still shows, the hurt little girl inside of me — that gets scared, and mean, ashamed, and angry.

Void of sleep, I pulled my leotard on and went boxing, to feel my strength through my suffering, and then soften. To feel my bruised and remember that bruised fruit tastes sweeter, anyway. With my gloves on, I found my dance once again, first a little jumpy, and then found grounding in my feet, to flow thru my fight, and keep going, Breath by breath, punch by punch, A smile too. En route home, I stopped at the gas station next door, sweat dripping, hair wild, to grab a gatorade. A man in his van sped up beside me, jumped out to not just cat call but tell me he loved me, following me before I escaped. I used to think that was flattering But I’m not cattle And even if we’re all animals, I didn’t ask for it, no matter my outfit. And you bet, I am wild and free, I embrace my messy is sexy, in my full feminine energy. Hell, I am sexy. I own that side of me But that doesn’t mean that I’m asking for anything. I learned to fight for good reason, and I won’t stop fighting for women, for you, for me.

We are all worthy of love, affection, all of the things. Too many women I know have muted their beauty out of fear of being bothered. And I’m not going to dull my beauty or cover up any longer because society condones this behavior and rather than protecting survivors, instead protects those who are guilty with the statute of limitations.

There is SO much shame in our culture we are more likely to stay QUIET than speak. Which is why I’m showing all the sides of me Not just the veneer, the pretty, the 2D But the fucking ugly Painful Shameful, Angry. The Truth of what makes me. Because all of these parts Are a part of me And because of my trauma I am becoming Stronger. I am not my pain or what “happened to me,”But I am also not afraid to GIVE IT A NAME. To own my shame So that maybe others won’t feel so alone in this fucked up game of the guilty walking free And the hurt continuing. I’m walking my path to free me So that I can help others feel their worth. Justice is me acknowledging that I’m no longer wounded, but healing But healing is a forever thing. We have to continue to speak truth, And shed light on the darkness in our society, by owning our cracks and sharing our stories. Without the cracks, Light can’t shine in. I’m here to provide hope that even with cracks, We are still beautiful. #METOO

And still, love always, Olivia. xx

Using My Voice: My Recent Diary Entry