Religion is not your problem

This is not a war on religion. If people need to believe in a God to feel comforted and taken care of or make sense of life, it is their right and prerogative. It is not a war on someone else s religion either. It is not a war on people who have been born somewhere else. It is not about migrants, your jobs, your beliefs. It is not about your fears, it should not be about your fear, but about your compassion and understanding. If a person is a religious fanatic, it is not his fanaticism that makes him kill but his blatant disregard for human life. It is his need to revenge something someone did before, to retaliate for something that his father did before, to retaliate for something else, and it NEVER fucking ends. WE generate hate, like a battery, we create and shape enemies that will kill our children as we kill theirs. We grow wedges and further gaps with other people, based on cultural differences. Oh its religion, oh its their lack of education, oh its because they are not human. But the fact they die for their beliefs shows they are able to feel so much, they actually are willing to die for that. I dont get it, it scares me. I would not do it. I would not kill for an ideology, for a God, and I would not kill other people. But the fact I do not understand makes me realize that I am missing something here. If we want to stop these things, we need to understand. To see if we have responsibility. Stop bombing. Stop hating. Stop. All of you.

#metoo

I m watching holding my breath.
Could this be the beginning of something huge? Or will the newspapers trivialize it to the point of ridiculousness, and then put it in the "old news" drawer?
Will people listen?


I dont feel defined by actions done by others. If I step into poop, I will not spend my life crying about it or see myself as the myopic fool who stepped into dog shit. I will be mad at the person who did not scoop after their dog. I will give responsibility where it is due.

I was harassed, fired, molested, and raped. There I said it. I think its scarier to say it than it was to experience it, in my case. It was not "hit you on the face, kick you in the stomach" raped, but more like date raped. Only it was not a date, far from it, it was a colleague who asked to lay on my couch after a work party. I did not want to, but he drove me home and said he would crash his car unless he had a coffee. Then he passed out on my couch and next thing I know he is on my bed ...well you get the picture.

When I think of these incidents, am I angry? I was angry and shameful of myself. For not thinking the worst scenario, for feeling like an object, a cum bag the other used for his pleasure. I went through the motions. I did not let it dictate my life. I put it in that little box, with all the other fingering, groping, sharing of masturbating about me, that I went through my life. I came from a place where a woman's worth is tied to her fuckability. Fair enough. That's the way of the world. But is it set in stone?

Something may be changing? It is time now to open that box.
Not to hurt that guy. Who I am sure in his mind thought that if I drank, it's because I was to shy to say I want sex. Stupidity and entitlement in all its glory.
Not to scream about the bad things that happened to me, or to be seen like a victim. Because I never saw myself as one, and I think this would have been the damaging factor.
I hate the world "survivor" it brands your whole existence, boils it up to that fucked up encounter you had with someone who took advantage of his strength, power or position. We get to put a label on top of our heads for someone else's actions? How is that making any sense?

Strength. You are so strong. Oh! Blow me. Where does it say that strength is a good virtue? Strength is needed in pressure, in problems, in crisis. I'd rather be soft any day and live an easy life.
The word predator, implies strength. Magnifies the culprit to a position above. Fuck that.
How about, tinydicked, mommas boy, maturity challenged, cross wired, entitled little man.All more accurate and more true.
Only a spoiled person, unaware of their actions, or not caring, would force his will on someone else, and hate someone or an entire sex for his shortcomings.
And this is the thing about rape culture. The guy could be a lovely human being who thought that this is the way to do things. We act upon our beliefs. Rape culture is also what could make  people look at me and say "oh she is  the one that got raped". Stuck in their heads, an incident that is not defining me, but that will make my life harder, because now, if I am angry, its because of "this". If I have something to say, it has less value because of what "I went through". A nice little pat on the head, an understanding condescending look as if something in me is damaged, wrong and I should be seen with sympathy. It s so ridiculously funny and tragic at the same time, because to me, and without down playing the fact I was not asked if I wanted to take part in that sexual encounter, it was maybe classified in the same area with my pity fucks. Yes, when you are young you do stupid things and you bounce better our of situations. At least I did.
I was more hurt by my husbands infidelity and cruelty and it did change me in more ways imaginable than having an ugly, desperate, sneaky man trying to get what he would never have in normal circumstances. I hope he enjoyed the passed out, non responsive me. He will have to live with it, every time he will look at his daughter. As for me, it was just stepping in poo. I smelled for a while, but I m not the anus that produced that shit. Its not mine.

I keep writing about these things for years. About how the road has been paved with women and children's usage. Be it in mines ( yes, still today, phone user, aka purchaser of cobalt), in the sex industry, or in everyday life.

I  kept talking about pedophilia, how I had more than 4 encounters before I hit my teens, and unless I was the most "sexy" or unlucky child in the world, that shows how many of them exist. I know 8 women, who had the same experiences, 3 full rape, and by family members.

These encounters led me to believe that there should be a triage and make a difference between the sadistic rapists who take pleasure out of pain and see children or women as a stepping stone to feel powerful, and the ones that try to seduce children, totally convinced that they "love" them, and "love their purity". These are not made overnight. A 14 year-old boy,  will want to experiment with a 6 year old, as it happened to me. See them naked, stuff like that. These kids, grow thinking there is something wrong with them, as all teenagers do, even without these tendencies. But you can only loathe yourself that much. At some point, you need to accept who you are, so you find others like you, and you convince yourself society is not ready for you, although people like you existed forever. You dig into history- preferably Greek- and you enhance your belief that you have an orientation. These people are not killers, and putting them in the same sentencing group as the ones that kill and rape, will only increase the probability of a child being killed. These people need to be studied, but it is such a taboo, that we have very little info. Parents rage at the idea of someone touching their child, as they should, but we are not really advancing if we dont sit down and separate things, study their methods, and find in our kids what it is that they could appeal to.
I wrote a book about it, a few years back, it was too crude for kids, but it did offer an insight on why a 12 year old may be attracted to a 25 year old. I explained, in my own words and demystified a few things. But no one bought-since its not visible,  it so I m not sure it s a good attempt or not.

Back to the adult rape, harassment and misconduct. Harassment, is not two equal adults in the same position. I had a colleague who kept telling me he masturbates for me. I was shocked. Then I told him I'd help him but I dont have tweezers. I ridiculed him and lowered him to his true level. I was not impressed. He did not get my look, I was not smiling. When he brushed his penis on my hand that was on the corner of my desk, I grabbed it and twitched it. He never came near me again. Politically incorrect? maybe. But I could hold my own, I am not helpless in this situation, he has no power over me. He is a jerk off, and I refuse to give him more power by making him feel his penis is a threat to me. His penis is the A and Omega in his mind. Not mine. I truth, I have heels bigger than his dick, to quote a famous line.

But if it was my boss, I had bills to pay, and he would do the same thing, it would be a different situation. I know many women who did comply, in Greece during the crisis. Because they had no child support ( the Greek government was not so understanding in their cases), because they were in immediate danger of survival. So they went along to flatter their fat ugly bosses, and  accepted "his help", because you know, "he cares about her and her children". That is harassment. Co-hersion.

You want more examples? The guy who ejaculates in the coffee of the girl he likes and watches her drink it. The guy who calls you a whore in the street because you did not respond. The guy who lies to be your friend, then hates you for not putting out as if he has a share that he is entitled to, of your body. The guy who  tells you he masturbates for you. The guy who asks if he can masturbate in front of you. I dont care how likeable he is, Louis. The guy who  says you were asking for it, because you drank or wore a mini skirt, oblivious of the fact you may enjoy not feeling too hot, or the buzz of a beer, and you are not driven to do things because of HIS presence. The guy who grabs the nipple of a nursing mother because it was his fantasy, and laughs it off when she protests as if it is no big deal. It is a big deal, and making us feel stupid or silly for expecting respect is not ok. Judging a person who did not act in any way,  by someone elses actions, is not ok.  Believing women are like your mother, ecstatic at your every fart and then get angry when you realize you are not even on their radar, is not ok.

And I truly hope, this #metoo movement will stick to the essence. We are equal. we have equal rights to safety, to freedom, to respect. # metoo is not about some schmuck that told you you have a nice ass. #metoo is not about a referee getting used at every butt hurt, rude obnoxious comment. We are adult women, human beings, capable of shutting down an idiot.
 #metoo is for every time a woman felt helpless, hopeless, powerless, ridiculed, humiliated just because she wanted to work or liked a guy. A guy who worships his junk, identifies with his junk, and uses it as a double sword. Hating the women that worship it or like it, hating the women that ignore it.

#metoo is not about me. # metoo is about that empty thing around a penis, and it's time to take the force out of that flacid lightsaber.













And just a little reminder:

This graph is a composite of stories that could  could be my stories, or other women in my entourage. It doesn't matter, all you need to know is that they are true. Take a moment to pause and do not focus on which one is mine, but instead how many behaved the way they did, how many of them are out there, living a life, acting this way every day, week, month, How many victims a single person can make, and how many women have kept silent, till now. #metoo, is about showing the map of misconduct, worldwide.

Therapeutic measures

In Denmark there is a system of renting clinics by the hour, and I have been doing so for the past year.
There were a few incidents in the past with  a woman peeing on the toilet seat of cooking and eating in one of the rooms, or some therapist  barking "don't talk to me" when I said hello, but in general, there is a good cohabitation and I do not mind switching off forgotten lights and replacing toilet paper when others do not think of it.
One of the biggest issues is when one of the other therapists do not give a flying fuck about others and speak loudly in the hallways or do not remind their clients to keep it down.
I have been forced many times to remind them with a smile and that has not made me very popular but my priority is with my client and not to be liked.
But a few days ago, a man walked in with a client and they were really loud. The kind of loud that you hear in drunk people ( not saying they were, just creating an analogy). The guy got all twisted in his panties and got really defensive, shouting even more to my face. I was shocked, this is a therapist?
I went to the kitchen and he came in there, itching to continue. He started yelling that this is not a library, and if I dont like it I should not work there, pointing his finger at me. 
I asked him to not point it and he  flipped it and left the room as I managed to say "what an asshole".
I was a bit shaken, I am no stranger to conflict, and I have stood my ground to abuse before, whether it is physical or emotional, and this guy scared me.

I called the owner of the clinic to inform him. I did not have to do that. I felt he should know.

Yesterday I got a mail from him saying the other guy complained I called him an asshole, and that I "insulted " him  in front of his client. The mail went on asking me about unwashed dishes  and that some other therapist complained about it , and "was he lying too?"

I was apalled. First off I did not like the fact I was put in a position to answer and defend myself that way , as if I was a child, to the owner of a clinic, who clearly had his mind set on who was in the wrong. Secondly, dishes or not, it was irrelevant with the fact I was verbally abused and frightened. I informed him a therapist was abusive, he took sides and was accusative, sarcastic and inappropriate.
The owner of that clinic had been unpleasant in the past and has  had a lot of unreasonnable demands ( to pay even when I dont use the clinic , during holidays, as if it was an abonnement), but to blantantly disrespect a situation by mixing things, became too personal .

Bottom line, I think he deserves that therapist, and I am on the lookout for a new  professional "home"

Scandinavia and the world

There is this little gem I found years ago that helps me understand Danes a little more

In a cultural lesson, I was deeply shocked by the fact I understood why Vikings felt a ruler who turned to Christianity was weak. "How could he worship someone who did not want to fight?"

Here is another example that portrays how differently and culturally diverse the Norse are

I love

I cant sleep tonight.
I am moved and restless. I saw you after nearly 3 years and the sleeping spell I imposed to my heart was broken into million pieces.
I felt your hands on me, your mouth, I remembered physically how it felt to be one with you.

Then I felt shame. For my looks, my age, my longing.
I know you dont feel the same, I am ok with it. Was ok with it. I am ok with the natural course of you needing something other than what I am, I dont feel rejected.
I feel rejected by life.
Squeezed out of it, like toothpaste out of a tube.
Loosing you is the equivalent of loosing my youth, and no matter how much I need and want to be young, pretty and with options again, that will never happen.
You and I will never happen.
And I thought I was ok with it.

But seing you, I realized how much I want to live, how much I want, and that in fact I am not settled to die and let go.
I have been steadily walking towards death for the past 5 years. I put on weight, I cut my hair, I lost my will and power to live.
Not because of you of course.
But because my life had no love. And without love, I stop to thrive.

I became concerned with money, worried, and obsessed about bills... I dont do well alone, I admit it for the first time. I need to be with someone who grounds me, holds me, love me. Then I can carry us both, like a faithful ox, a horse, a loyal dog.

But I need to have that guide, that light in my heart, that sparks my brain with hormones.

You were my one true love, my only love, although I feel in love with many. It was not your character. It was not the best.
It was not your sex drive, but our chemistry. It was your heart, your youth, your talent, your smiling eyes when you would see me coming, your eyebrow going up as you played the guitar, and your mouth breathing as you were on top of me.

I want to lose the weight.
I want to live.
I m not good at paying bills, at taking care of another human being, I only know how to sacrifice. And I have.
But now I want to come back to being me.

I dont know if coming back to Greece will be good for me. I dont like the idea of being in the same land as you, so close. It is easier to be far away, and maybe when I married him, I was running away from the pain that I would inevitably feel when we separated.

I want to live.
I think I woke up from a long period of depression.
I let myself go, and now I want to come back. To me, to feeling like me.

#metoo

I don't like the word "survivor"
I don't like to be defined by something that happened to me, putting aside everything else, I am.
I don't like the word to come to me, if any word should be used after rape or assault.

I don't want the forced respect out of an action that lacked respect.
I don't want pity, as if something was taken from me, but hey, I m still breathing.

I want to be able to chose. Back then and now.
And I chose to call him a predator, an asshole, an entitled narcissist, and put the focus on his sorry ass.
Not on me. I refused to be defined by an encounter he did and took what he needed not out of his merit, his charm or his aura, but by force, by bullying or by drugging.


My first boyfriend was more experienced than I was. He used to pressure me to use my tongue when I was kissing him, he was "teaching" me and I was shy, but also playing the game of a modest girl as my culture had taught me. Soon the teachings escalated to other areas of our sexuality and pretty soon I would get slapped for not engaging in oral sex, while being screamed at, that he was not disgusting.

A colleague took advantage of my hospitality and my sleep after an evening out in the town with the whole crew.

A colleague reached out and grabbed my breasts full of milk, and unapologetic said he had a fetish. In my own home. I was shocked and disgusted at his paw on my baby's food.

An old man tried to finger me at age 9 when I said goodbye and he lifted me in his arms.

A boy of 14 tried to undress me at 7 in the toilets of a Hotel.

9 men put me through "trial" a warm summer night and condemned me to be their toy, but changed their mind last minute, when I was 17. Maybe because they saw the determination in my eyes, to jump of the cliff we were standing on?  They would not have touched me, not just because they had a piece of limp meat between their legs. Not if I had something to say.

I lost my job due to advances at least 8 times. I lost another 4 jobs due to their wives seeing me. I was told by police officers that I must be a lesbian if I get so upset  over a guy "hitting" on me.

I had 3 guys in total that would not take no for an answer and would a) call every day b) try to "kill" themselves, or get physical when they finally got it, that I was not playing "games" but I was truly not interested.

I m a woman. They are garbage. I am not a survivor, I am not the only one, I have 9 friends that were raped or assaulted by a family member at a young age. Others were seduced.
I know more than 5- women that got hired when they lost weight and who had to hide they had children to their bosses.

I am not a survivor, I am not the only one.
The world needs to change. In a world where serial killers become famous and their victims faceless, we tend to put a face on rape victims and make their rapist faceless. Time to switch things around.

Benjamin Button

I am in Greece at the moment and I just saw the love of my life on The voice.  I felt excited, and happy and proud. I know he came to this path also partly due to my presence in his life. I took him places, heard songs with him and the 4 years we were together shaped him as well as they shaped me. I take no credit on his amazing talent, I am happy for him and I am sure he will be a great artist in the years to come.

But I have a pang in my heart.
Our story ended, I made a conscious choice not to see him again, although I never stopped loving him. I do not suffer from the lack of physical contact or the idea he might be with someone else, today or antother day. We met at a crossroad in our lives and we both were important for one another. But we both knew it would be with an expiration date.

Today, I felt a pain. Triggered by the fact I wont be there to take part of all that is ahead of him. Triggered by the fact his life is beginning while mine is ending.

And at the same time I am tremedously happy for him.
What a confusing night..