A repost:

I just read a phenomenal essay by Terry Brock.

I hope you'll all read it, re-post it, take it to heart. Having recently experienced one of the best total-consent moments of my life, and also swimming in ire at the recent absolute catastrophe regarding the Michigan State men's basketball team, I've rarely read something more reassuring and calming.

There are truly men who are men. There are men who treat people, their partners, with respect, with dignity; who appreciate that strength isn't used to harm, but to heal; who understand that their sisters, lovers, friends, aunts, nieces, and lovers are likely one of the one-in-four.

So, here.

Thank you, Terry. And thank you to the men in my life who have been incredible--and to the women. We're all in this together, folks. It will take every single one of us to stop rape. Terry has some great tips on starting conversations and getting people to think about their words. I can't say enough positive things about his words.

A huge thank-you goes to Elizabeth Battiste, who was lucky enough to meet Vice President and Dr. Biden last week in her role as Sexual Assault and Domestic Violence Prevention Program Peer Educator at Michigan State. She's a remarkable woman that I'm lucky to have as my friend.

varying levels.

Okay folks.

There's stress.

There's stress that's like.... okay, I've got to get the house clean before Mom gets here. And have dinner with my aunt and uncle and they're going to ask the questions that my parents quit asking, like "So, are you seeing anyone special and when are you having babies? AND OH YEAH, ABOUT THAT DEGREE...." It's annoying, but tolerable, and there's a light at the end of the tunnel. Situational stress, if you will. Dinner will end. The house will get clean (enough) in time. Lines will get memorized. The exam will happen. Whatever. The project, the Event, it'll be done and over and then the stressy bit goes away.

Then there's Stress.

This is the kind of Stress that has your day starting with a really sweet automated text from your bank letting you know your balance is low--and knowing beyond any shadow of a doubt that you don't have the ability to fix that any time soon. This Stress includes getting to walk right by your landlord's door without a check. It's ducking phone calls. It's making hard choices, like between cat food and self food. It's sending out what feels like thousands of resumes and cover letters and filling out applications and never getting an interview (because, you know, you're apparently not even able to staple papers in an office, only sling drinks at people. It's a very affirming feeling). It's realizing that you're drinking too much, and it's realizing that that's associated on some level with having to go to a job that you're so burned out at, it's the only way to make it through some days. It's trying to numb yourself. It's feeling excluded and alone all the time. It's feeling on the verge of tears more often than not. It's watching your grandmothers decline and feeling powerless to help anyone.

This is the stress that doesn't stop. There's no light--or if it's even vaguely present, it's immediately followed by a train whistle.

And days like today, even though there is a faint light--one that doesn't have a train whistle attached--it's almost too much to handle.

I know I'll get through this. I know that in a month or two, once I'm caught up and have my LSAT score firmly in hand and am starting work on a show that I love and my birthday's over, things are going to seem a lot sunnier than they do right now.

It's been a rough few weeks here, and I'm trying to keep my chin up. But keeping your chin up is awfully hard when you're barely keeping your head above water.