It all began on a summer’s eve

It all began on a summer’s eve in July 2017 when my husband told me that he had slept with my sister and that he was leaving me. Which news was worse is debatable. If his aim was to cut me deepest, he couldn’t have chosen better timing. I had recently been fired from my job because of excessive panic attacks which led to hospitalization at a local mental health institution. Additionally, I had been brutally raped about a month prior by a man he had introduced me to as a friend. Earlier that day, I had been informed by the states attorney’s office that there would be no prosecution for the crime – even though a handgun and a minor child had been involved. I already felt destroyed. His actions ensured I would stay that way for a long time.

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The words I choose and tags I use

 

EDGAR ALLAN POE, USAIt is said that Edgar Allan Poe selected each and every word with great care and thoughtful consideration. Ever since being taught that idea sometime in junior high school, I strive to do the same in my own writing. This starts by reading a great deal, building my vocabulary, and being conscious of the words I choose whether I’m writing a resume or a speech, short story or news article, prose or poetry. Often when our words are limited in number, it inspires us to dig deep and make each one count. Unfortunately, this philosophy has not translated to Twitter where writers are limited to just 280 characters.

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Changing the conversation

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Dear Richard,

We’ve recently welcomed a new year and today is your birthday, so it’s to be expected that you’re up late taking stock of the state of your life and I’m not surprised that you seem to be finding yourself unhappy. I can certainly relate to that sentiment.

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He’s just that kind of guy

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Richard Lee Kodadek

He is charming… he is kind and empathetic… he is generous – or at least he makes the effort to appear that way to the public.

He’s a “regular joe” – the kind of guy who donates his time on a Friday night after a long work week because he has a friend whose daughter has a brain tumor and the local Shriner’s are hosting a benefit for her.

But he’s also the kind of guy who raped his wife.

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Feminine Anger

I can feel her presence. She is always there, nibbling at the frayed edges of my mind. My most intimate and steadfast companion never leaving me behind. Rather, she is the one who jumps into play when others choose to abandon me. I would say she’s back – but truth be told, she never really left.

She exists for a reason and that reason is to protect me when it seems nobody else will. She has never failed me in that regard. Although her means are unorthodox and arguably unethical, she is always effective when it comes to protecting the fragility of my heart. She is not only allowed to feel anger, but she wields it as a warrior might carry a sword and shield.  By contrast, I am not culturally allowed to feel or express my rage myself.

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Why survivors stay silent

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Ninety-nine percent and what happens to survivors who speak out

This is not a post about income inequality. This is a post about the “other” ninety-nine percent. This is a post about the statistical fact that 99 percent of perpetrators of rape walk free among us

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I was never your cure.

I was never your cure. I am your addiction.

You hurt me far too many times, I could mention

After it has all been done and said –

You thought you could leave, but I’m still in your head.

 

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I will not abandon you.

I’m not sure if you get my messages. You often say you will block my number. So I don’t know if they get through to you – either literally or metaphorically. But I know you check this website every day so I will tell it to you again here. I will not abandon you.

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Letter to my husband

Dear Richard,

You’ve always been a coward. I didn’t see it for so long because I loved you. Though I love you still, the rose-colored glasses have been removed and I see you for what you are.

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You are a coward. You were a coward before I met you. And you are a coward still. You told me yourself that you stayed on SSI/Disability long after you had any need of it – that staying on it was your “security blanket.” When I needed you most to speak for me, you stayed silent. When I needed you to notice me and the work I was doing, you ignored me. You belittled me. You marginalized me. And when I was struggling after running out of medication, you not only failed to notice – you left. You abandoned me in my most desperate hour. And you’ve abandoned me every day, every hour, every minute since then.

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