Last night, I volunteered at the animal shelter. I always loved animals but started volunteering around the time I began attending rape counseling. Those memories had long been suppressed and by the time I finally got around to speaking to someone about them, I was in bad shape. I was definitely suffering from some sort of PTSD and was terrified of people as well as the most benign circumstances. In counseling, I talked about being date raped. I felt better after talking to someone and being validated. You see, I blamed myself for being raped, because I willingly entered the situation: I went over my “friends” house to watch the Superbowl and have a few beers. That was twelve Superbowls ago. A night that started off fun ended with a lot of memory loss, inability to determine sequence of events, physical pain, and then a loss of said friends -but not before an inquisition from said friends in which they slyly tried to determine what I remembered of the night, if anything at all.
For the next decade I did what I wanted to do fearlessly. I did not worry about consequences. I did not care. It wasn’t until after rape counseling that I developed a new and unsightly complex. Though I expected the counseling to make things better it did and it didn’t. Though I now felt validated, receiving formal counseling and talking about what happened opened up a can of worms. After going on a date or hanging out with a man alone, I would go home and scrutinize the night’s events, piecing them together again and again worrying to myself about whether or not something happened. The basis for this fear was a fear that during the date, I had some sort of memory loss, though I was fully conscious and sober the entire time. I would agree with most people, that this is pretty nutty, however, the fear was very real and debilitating. Once the anxiety began it took off like a speeding train. It could go on and on for hours and sometimes days. God bless the people around me who patiently listened to me and reassured me that it was unlikely that anything happened, and reassured me that I would remember it.
What a day! A new box AND a new bag! My rescue cat, Squeaky By Hayley Rose 2012
A “Playscape” for Cats
Meet Kya, an 8-year-old Yorkshire Terrier from Hawaii. Kya was born in a puppy mill in Hawaii. She was purchased by a tourist who brought her back to Washington to use her for breeding. After years of breeding, Kya’s owner gave her away to a new owner who also planned to continue breeding her.
Finish reading after the jump…
I’m a vegetarian, not vegan, which means I still eat eggs and dairy. However, I don’t eat much of either because of the horrible condition the majority of both cows and chickens are kept in. Most chickens live in tiny cages stacked on on top of another. Their excrement falls through the cage onto the chickens below. They are kept in these cages so long without exercising that their feet often begin to grow around the bars. Not to mention the factory farmers often cut off their beaks!! Don’t get me started about cows…At many of these factory farms, the cows are kept pregnant year round in order to for farmers to get the most product out of them. Imagine being pregnant 24/7 for several years? How agonizing. Today the Humane Society reached an agreement with the United Egg Producers to improve the living condition of chickens. Together they will try to pass this legislation that will inevitably improve the lives of over 280 million chickens each year!
According to the Humane Society of the United States, the provisions the UEP will be working together to implement through federal legislation include:
Require a moratorium at the end of 2011 on new construction of unenrichable battery cages — small, cramped, cages that nearly immobilize more than 90 percent of laying hens today — and the nationwide elimination of barren battery cages through a phase-out period;
Require phased in construction of new hen housing systems that provide hens nearly double the amount of space they’re currently provided;
Require environmental enrichments so birds can engage in important natural behaviors currently denied to them in barren cages, such as perches, nesting boxes, and scratching areas;
Mandate labeling on all egg cartons nationwide to inform consumers of the method used to produce the eggs, such as “eggs from caged hens” or “eggs from cage-free hens”;
Prohibit forced molting through starvation — an inhumane practice that is inflicted on tens of millions of hens each year and which involves withholding all food from birds for up to two weeks in order to manipulate the laying cycle;
Prohibit excessive ammonia levels in henhouses — a common problem in the industry that is harmful to both hens and egg industry workers;
Require standards for euthanasia of hens; and
Prohibit the sale of eggs and egg products nationwide that don’t meet these above requirements.
This is really great news, but these provisions are not the law yet! So please fill out this form
in support of humane living conditions for laying hens. It will only take a minute to fill out, it doesn’t cost anything to do, and you will help improve the lives of millions of innocent chickens if this legislation passes.
Animals cannot speak for themselves. Their lives often rest solely in the hands of the humans around them. They have no voice. We are their voice. Please sign.
Someone once told me that rapists scope out their victims and deliberately choose certain type of person; who they view as easy prey. By sizing up their victim in this way, they gain control of the situation. When I heard about this, it really upset me, and I wondered if my persona could make me the victim of this violent crime once again. Once a rapist selects their target, they stalk him/her and plot their attack. Then they ambush their victim in a variety of ways such as coercion, date rape drugs, and violence.
There is a common misconception that rapists rape for sex. This is wrong. In fact, it is noted that rapists have access to legal sex; many of them have wives or girlfriends. Rapists rape for power. Serial rapists might even do it for sport, for some type of twisted thrill, that is perhaps comparable to the jolt of excitement kleptomaniacs cite to explain their addiction to stealing. After committing a rape, the rapist does not care that they just traumatized and possibly destroyed a living and breathing being. The rapist didn’t even consider that their victim was an individual with thoughts and feelings. The rapist only cared about one thing: getting what they wanted through control and domination.
A few days ago, I received a message in my Inbox titled, “In Memory of Sea Turtles and Dolphins.” Just reading the title made me sick to my stomach, but I opened the email anyways. For the past few years, I’d felt especially close to dolphins. It all started one summer, when I foolishly hopped in the car with my boyfriend to travel across the country. After less than a week of exploring, we found ourselves on Virginia Beach. Little did I know that during an afternoon of sand and shore, the day’s record heat would give me the worst sunburn I’ve ever experienced.