Yesterday was not a good day for me.  I am really hoping today will turn things around. 

 My Friday morning began with a lovely trip to the gynecologist where I had the joy of a full STD screening.  Now, I know you gentlemen won’t completely understand this, but the ladies all know how rewarding it is to lie on your back in a cold, sterile room and have someone insert accoutrements into your nether region, poking and scraping your most sensitive parts.  This experience is humiliating even when the reason behind it is a more preventative and positive one.  But today I got to check the box on the form that said “My partner has had sex with other people since my last visit” and then I got to discuss the details of my personal life and sexual history at length to determine just how disturbed I truly am.  Oh sure, I’m not special.  Almost every woman has had some negative experience with her feet in the stirrups.  But, for me, EVERY visit to the gynecologist is a negative experience, because it always involves revisting a lifetime of pain and victimization.  Routine reproductive healthcare is traumatic for someone who has experienced multiple molestations and rapes.  You see, the annual pap test and vaginal exam may just be annoying for some, but for me it is a yearly reminder of my position in life as a sexual object to be manipulated for the pleasure of men.  And this time was no different.  For, despite my faithfully consensual sex with my most recent partner of three years, I was STILL violated by his infidelity.  Those who stray sexually from their monogomous relationships ultimately commit one of the most vile and offensive acts of assault.  They not only take the most intimate and spiritually sacred bond that can be shared between two people and degrade it down to a cheap, meaningless and fleeting physical pleasure wrapped in animal lust, but when they return to the bed of their unknowingly betrayed lover they inject guilt and deceit into the most vulnerable depths of soul.  And when they also commit their infidelity without a condom they perpetrate a physical violation that rises to the level of criminal negligence. 

 So, I spread my legs for the lady in white, and now I get to wait two weeks to see if my shameful man has destroyed more than my trust and stolen more than my naive heart.

Yesterday was not a good day.  When I returned from the clinic, I spent an hour on the phone with the director of the state environmental department arguing for a simple two-lot subdivision that I have been fighting to manifest for over a year now.  After my grandmother’s death in December of 2006, our family began the process of dividing her 39 acres into two lots to build a second home.  This subdivision includes a conservation easement that would permanently protect  30+ acres and the intention of my family to construct an off-grid, ecofriendly home using at least 50% recycled materials.  Yet, I have had to become a part-time contractor in order to navigate the gauntlet of municipal and state regulations to make this happen, and tirelessly dodge the road blocks set up by our neighbors from hell.  After fighting us and the town for over 8 months, our neighbors filed two lawsuits against the local land use boards for granting our subdivision, and this month they filed a suit against us to obstruct the conservation easement.  Their displeasure stems from their use of a right-of-way that our family owns that will be used for access by the new home.  Apparently they are unmoved by the fact that we OWN the right-of-way, have used it for over 40 years without incident and they were fully aware of it’s shared condition prior to the purchase of their home 14 years ago.  They live in the elitist world where those who have enough money and connections have the responsibility to deny the property rights of others in order to foster a community of self-righteous snob-zoning.  This week I had the priviledge of receiving their court summons.  Simulataneously, the state denied our subdivision application because they cannot handle basic math and they expect everyone to do their job for them.  So, my Friday afternoon was devoted to explaining the state regulations to the director of that department, who was obviously very defensive that a lowly “lay-person” (his words), and a woman no less, could articulate the state rules with greater familiarity and comprehension than the bulk of his staff. 

Yesterday was not a good day.  Upon completion of my frustrating conversation with chauvinist director, I received an email from the president of the local community college explaining that the school where I love to teach will be permanently closing in the near future and staff reductions would begin promptly.  As one of the newest members of the faculty who usually teaches mostly introductory courses, I can expect to be in the first round of cuts as they will reserve their “teach-out” positions for those with seniority.  Of course, we’ve all been whispering about this possibility for months now, but nothing is more final and frightening than the official notice that you will now be competing against your beloved friends for similar positions in the surrounding college community as we enter a very real recession in the American economy. 

Yesterday was not a good day.  After discovering more of my shameful man’s cell phone bills, I uncovered ANOTHER period from our early relationship where he was in almost daily contact with not one, but two, ex-girlfriends.  This reinforces the idea that his deceit and betrayal transcend our entire relationship and essentially secures my place as the top whore in a long line of whores.  As expected, someone with my life experiences would be tragically impacted by the realization that this is the third long-term relationship where I have been mistreated in this way and I obviously will require extensive therapy to avoid throwing myself back to the wolves. 

So my day concluded with complete emotional breakdown where I attempted to sever all ties with my shameful man.  This led to a somewhat misdirected and harsh venting at my parents, an extended period of sobbing and then a concentrated effort to prevent the suicide of my shameful man. 

But hey, look at me now.  I was awake by 7:30 AM.  I’m writing, without my morning coffee.  Even my tear-soaked keyboard can’t stop me now.  The sun is painting rainbows through the crystalized prisms of the snow-covered lawn and the cats are warming themselves on the weathered window sils.  Today is a new day.  Today is the day I deserve to be happy.