My forty days of atheist lent is still ongoing (though not as public). My concentration has been shifted to getting ready for spring quarter at Bellevue College. I missed a few days of walking due to being a bit busy around here then having a bit of a problem with one of my knees. Other than that, it's been relatively quiet around here.

It's even finally quieting down with regard to the whole bizarre stalker issue. The police are watching and have been alerted. At a minimum, there has been no rushing off to places I've been to harass people. That by itself makes it worth the time I spent at the BPD. I've also shifted my stance on being public with what and where I'm writing. While the bizarre stalker hasn't stolen any of my written work as of this date, I thought it would be prudent to ensure it doesn't happen later on down the line.

The month of March in Organically Beautiful needs to be attended to and I plan on having that page up and running later today. I'm having a lot of fun with that section of my website and hope to continue on a monthly basis. The Alphabetically Beautiful pages are woefully behind so I've decided to attempt those on a weekly basis.

I've been mulling a topic over in my head for the past week or so...I need to get it written out and will most likely do so later today. Other than that, not much else going on around here other than a lot of peace and quiet finally!

I am about to write about something that is very difficult for me to put into words. After speaking to an online friend about this and in light of the demeaning and degrading tweets and posts out on the Internet, I thought that perhaps writing about a few events in my life may help assuage the anger.

I grew up religious. I had a very religious father and an exceedingly religious grandmother as almost a permanent structure during my childhood. Due to some family dynamics that I'd prefer not to go into detail at this time (one trauma at a time, thank you), I was a very shy and overly introverted girl. After graduating from high school, I decided to go into the Navy. College was an impossibility due to parents who were middle class - not enough to pay for college and too much to qualify for any financial aid. The Navy offered schooling in things I was interested in and I would have money for college when all was said and done, so it seemed like the logical choice.

The day arrived for me to go off to Navy boot camp. There was some mix-up in the dates or flight booking so all the new recruits had to stay in a motel overnight. I was the only female in the group coming from Seattle. We were all placed on the same floor with me in a room, by myself, in a room where the lock was a bit suspect. I really didn't think anything of it at the time - in hindsight, I really truly wish I had said something to the management about this.

The guys managed to get their hands on some alcohol and were partying it up that night. I opted for an early night as I was pretty nervous and figured I wouldn't sleep much. At some point the guys party let up and things finally got quiet. Quiet enough for me to finally fall asleep. Not everyone else went to sleep as I soon found out.

Without going into details, I was raped that night. There was no light, I couldn't see who my attacker was, and remember thinking that I must have done something to entice this. By the morning, looking at the guys in the group, I couldn't say with any certainty who had violated me. I decided to "suck it up" and get on with life because it couldn't get any worse than it was.

Skip to 3 weeks into Navy boot camp and I'm called in to see one of the nurses. It seems I'm pregnant and I need to process out back to being a civilian. I became numb. I felt violated for the second time. After a very long flight home, I settled back with my mother, not knowing what I should do. The thought of bringing to full-term a child that was created out of something I never wanted to think about nearly drove me insane. “What should I do?” kept rolling over and over in my brain.

Nature had decided to take things into its own hands, apparently. I woke up in the middle of the night to the most excruciating abdominal pain I have ever felt – then and even to this day. Crawling through the hallway to my mother's bedroom, I managed to tell her I needed to go to the hospital. Once at the hospital, things ran rather quickly. I was told that the baby had died many weeks ago, had broken up and was currently streaming into my blood. In short, I had a severe toxic infection. Had I not gone in when I did, I would have died within hours.

Over the next ten years, I had seven more miscarriages – never making it past the first trimester. Given my religious background, I thought this was my punishment. God was punishing me. For what exactly never seemed to enter my mind. I thought perhaps I was being punished for apparently and unknowingly enticing my rapist. Or maybe something else I was completely unaware of.

After turning 27 and having had an unusual pap smear result, I found out that I had precancerous cells on my cervix. I think perhaps this was the straw that finally broke the camel's back for me. How could there be a God who would continuously torture me like this? First by allowing the act of rape to be forced on me, second by not allowing me to carry a child full-term, and lastly precancerous cells that could evolve into something worse. Fortunately this was caught very early on and as long as I had cryosurgery done, things would probably be back to normal.

I had the needed cryosurgery and, within a few months, discovered I was pregnant again. I went into a severely guarded and depressed mode as I was certain I was going to have to go through yet another miscarriage. I made it past the first trimester, then the second, and all the while my baby was healthy. I had my first child at age 28...then my next within 2 and a half years...and my final child 2 and a half years after that. Some magic Trix Rabbit in the sky had nothing to do with my inability to have children. Just as I was not guilty of any suggestive behavior that led to me being violated. And the perceived “punishment” of not being able to have children? Completely biological and clearly not of some maniacal and heavy-handed deity.

So, when I see the word “rape” being thrown around casually like it's no big deal, I get rather pissed off. When someone has the audacity to tell me I should not go through with aborting a product of violence from my body, I want to punch them directly in the face.

It took a long time for me to be where I am mentally and physically without the need for magical fairies. Since realizing that what happened was not my fault and that “God” was not punishing me, my life has only gotten better and better. I have three beautiful children to show for it.

One of the nicest reasons to live in Bellevue, WA is the excellent walking trail system. The "Lake to Lake" walk has so much beauty to offer, it's hard not to stop and take pictures.