Cate Ellink's Blog, page 18

Saturday Search - Energy

Energy. I learned about it in science. It's forever linked to E = mc2 and Einstein, for me. I played sport, so energy is also equal to exercise and doing things. And I also associate energy with people - she's a high energy person, he's a low energy guy, she takes my energy - yet I haven't really understood what that meant.

Some years back, I wrote a short story about an energy/emotion draining vampire. It came out of my thoughts about people. When I was with some people, I left feeling completely hollow. Other people left me bouyed. Others I felt the same as when I'd met them. What did that mean?

As I started looking into things to improve my health, I came across stuff about 'toxic people' and how some people needed to be avoided because they took and didn't give back. I started to recognise that these were often the people who left me drained. As I had less and less energy, I couldn't be near these people, and I jettisoned so many. Some had been friends, some I thought were close friends, but they all seemed to roam away as soon as I couldn't be a shoulder for them (or a source for their constant need for energy).

I didn't understand it, even as I did it.

Last year, I had less and less energy every day and it worried me terribly. I had a virus, I had to rest and drink fluids. But this treatment wasn't replenishing my energy. I had no clue how to get more. I began to read.

I read about Mindfulness and Meditation with a Jon Kabat-Zinn. It was eye opening. I'm hopeless at meditation, or so I thought, but he gave me hope.

Then I went on a reading journey where one book followed another, each building on what I'd learned. Mindfulness for Beginners by Zon Kabat-Zinn, then Medical Medium by Anthony William, then Cure by Jo Marchant, then Becoming Supernatural by Dr Joe Dispenza.

In Joe Dispenza's Becoming Supernatural, he gave a heap of scientific reckoning to support his arguments. He took Einstein and made it relative to his arguments. He claims that emotions are energy. Negative emotions (anger, fear, stress, grief) have less (or heavier) energy than joyful emotions (gratitude, happiness, joy, love). At least, I think that's what he said - that's what I took from it anyway! The happier, lighter emotions oscillate at a higher frequency, they make you feel better, lighter. He says that meditation and focussing on the energy within you, can increase these joyful emotions and you can heal yourself by changing the expression of genes by changing hormonal responses.

Just before I bought this book, I had my first acupuncture session (after having a treatment many years before, but not continuing it). During the acupuncture treatment, I was left in a quiet, dark room with soft music playing. I had needles in my feet, hands, face, and lower legs. I had nowhere to go and nothing to do but lie there and relax. I felt like I was dying when I walked into that place. I'd driven the 20 mins to get there and it had exhausted me. I hadn't driven for most of the year because I hadn't had access to a car, so I was putting it down to stress, plus virus. As I laid there, wondering if this might help and hoping I'd be right to drive home, things started happening inside me. Tingling, fluttering things. It started in my toes and moved through my body. Slowly. Like ants crawling over me (except not as creepy or bitey!). My body began to twitch and move. Voluntarily. There was a white light in my mind and my stomach that was spreading (and I know this is weird, I had my eyes closed, but it's warmth and heat is why I call it 'light' but it may not have been light as such). About halfway through the session, I felt  like this was working. I had hope.

I left there with energy.

I wish I could explain how that worked. In my science head, I'm thinking that the pinpricks into the skin begin some kind of immune system response, which fires up the immune system and that's what I was feeling. But shit, I'd had a freaking virus for 12 months and that immune system had konked out trying to fight it. So how did this work?

I have no bloody idea.

But since then, I've improved every day. I have energy. I'm starting to feel those good emotions again - joy, love, gratitude, compassion. I'm doing my day job, plus writing, plus doing house and garden work, plus volunteering at the local nursery. I've been able to have visitors and go visiting. I've had energy to climb towers, run about with kids, swim, walk, travel. Things I could not for the life of my do the past 13 months when I could hardly do my day job and cook tea.

I don't understand it, but as one of those books said, sometimes you just have to thank your left brain for trying to rationalise what's happening, and let your right brain smile and be glad it's occurring.

So, I'm celebrating. Celebrating the return/release of my energy.

In Becoming Supernatural, Dispenza says that energy is everywhere and it switches and changes and flows. He says sometimes we give energy to the outside flow, sometimes we draw it in from the outside, sometimes we circulate the energy within us.

Einstein said that Energy could neither be created nor destroyed. It sure felt like I'd destroyed mine, but I'm ever so glad I have it flowing again. I don't intend to lose it anytime soon!

How's your energy?

Saturday Search - Trees

I know, after religion and feminism, trees seems a big change in direction! But it's nature, like my Wildlife Wednesday posts, so a big part of my life.
When I was 5 years old, we moved house. I don't remember the first house much, and I've no memory of any trees in the backyard of the first house except for a mandarin tree which Mum called a thorny mandarin tree and I had to stay away from the thorns. I've no idea if there were thorns or if I was just being kept from climbing the tree!
Anyway, our new house had a few trees but two were my favourites and became 'my' places. One was technically the neighbour's tree, but it was a Weeping Willow with half the fronds weeping on our side of the fence. I spent quite a bit of time in my castle under the willow, often with my dog. Right next to these fronds was a pencil pine, in our yard, and although it was there, it held no great place in my heart. Certainly nothing like the beautiful willow.
The other tree that had a place in my heart was right against the front verandah. The verandah had cutouts in the brickwork that made paneless windows, and there was like a concrete slab over it, so you could sit on it (I'll see if there's a photo because that's a terrible description!). Then there was this spot you could climb to above the stairs, and it was my favourite reading spot. I was screened from the street by the tree, but Mum could see me from the house. When I was young, I could climb into the tree and nestle in the branches but as I grew, this wasn't possible.
These trees were very important places for me. Sadly, both were cut down during my teenage years and I have to say that it hurt. Not so much the loss of hiding spaces, because I'd outgrown the spaces, but the loss of friends. 
Yep, I considered the trees as living beings, not unlike my pets, or my school friends. I didn't know this was weird. I mean The Faraway Tree was one of my favourite stories, and that tree was a living being, wasn't it? 
It was somewhat of a rude awakening to realise that people saw trees as easily dispensable, if not a complete pest!
I have 'collected' favourite trees everywhere I've lived. Trees that have some connection to me, which I can't explain at all. I like being near them, touching them, admiring them, and I may chat to them too. I like trees, but there are always special ones.
Some years ago, one of my friends was talking to me, and she's into all psychic things but sort of for fun, not entirely seriously. She had a deck of cards to tell you what you were in a previous life. She'd done herself and her kids and we'd been laughing about their cards. She drew one for me, and began laughing. Through her laughter, she managed to say I was a tree person. I froze. I'd never told anyone about my thing for trees. When she realised I wasn't joining in the laughter, she says, 'What aren't you telling me?' I told her about my trees, in a quiet little voice, expecting censure or more laughter. But she was gobsmacked. 
We sometimes recall that moment, as we explore this psychic, mystical, alternate world. Our scoffing disbelief has changed to curiosity and a sense of maybe...
I've no clue if I was a tree person in a previous life. I don't even really know what a tree person is/was. I think they were pre-Druids. And I'm not sure it's important. I like trees. I have an affinity for some trees more than others. I like animals. I like nature. That's just me.
So trees are a part of my searching. I know it's probably incredibly odd but it's me. And as the weeks go on, I think you might find that trees aren't so odd at all ;)
Do you have a favourite tree?

Saturday Search - Feminism

My interest in feminism came about because of the many things I wanted to do and was told I couldn't - because I was a girl. This appalled me. What kind of an answer was this? I went in search of better answers, but no one had any better answers. This was how society was...and it sucked.

I didn't want to do anything too drastic. I didn't want to have to wear a dress all the time (at all, really, but I was willing to compromise!). I wanted to be an altar boy. I wanted to play football (rugby league). I wanted to ride my bike to the mangroves. I wanted to wear shorts to school, or trousers. I wanted to play cricket.

I didn't want to do these things because I was a feminist or a rebel. I was involved in the Church, and at 7, you could be an altar boy. I was holding out for this, and when I turned 7 I didn't even have a clue that the word "boy" was going to exclude me. It never occurred to me that I couldn't do it.

I played netball, I started at 7. This was cool, but my favourite game was rugby league and I wanted to play that. Okay, so no girls could play footy, how about cricket? No. Right. I set up cricket at school in the lunch break and girls were allowed to play. I could control that because my house was next to the school and I could pop the gear over the fence so we could play - the school had no sports gear. I don't think many girls played, I can't really remember, but it didn't matter because I could!

Riding my bike was because my friends did it and I wanted to go with them. I hadn't quite twigged that they were boys and there was a difference in what we were allowed to do.

And school clothes, well, dresses let the cold air up your legs in winter and I wanted to be warm. Stockings were no answer for me as I'm allergic to nylon. I just had to be cold. And shorts are so much better in summer because boys can't flick your skirt/dress up and laugh at your knickers.

I thought these were reasonable things. I still do.

As I got older, the word 'feminist' was bandied around. The Female Eunuch by Germaine Greer had caused a stir. At some stage, I read this and I can't say I was all that enamoured by the book or Ms Greer. I didn't want to rant and rave. I didn't want to burn my bra. I didn't want to make a fuss. I just wanted to do what I wanted to do.

In high school, things started to change for women, and I got to play some sports in female competitions - soccer, hockey, cricket, basketball. There were still places I couldn't go, things I couldn't wear, things I couldn't do, but as I got older these choices were able to be twisted a little more. I could sometimes get around the rules. I often had to fight, but if it was worth it, I did.

I'm lucky that during the course of my life, I've found people who do accept me as equal - or as myself! I worked with men who encouraged me to go get my truck license, go put up the fence, go ride the quad bike, go inject the sheep, go modify the seeder. I got in and helped. I learned. I got my hands (and everything else) dirty. There were some who started off by saying things like, "Well, if you earn the same pay as me, you'd better be able to do the same work," and "That's fair," was my usual response as I worked my arse off to prove myself.

I don't call myself a feminist. I just go and do what I want to do, wear what I want to wear, play what I want to play. If someone stops me, I might fight for my rights if it's important to me. I just want to be able to do my things, happily, without being categorised. If that's being a feminist, then put that label on. I'd prefer a world without labels.

Phallic Friday: Bad sex

https://theweek.com/articles/749978/female-price-male-pleasure?utm_source=links&utm_medium=website&utm_campaign=twitter
I've just read the most incredible, well argued article about sex and the disparity between male sex and female sex. I had to write some thoughts.
The arguments presented in this article about women's expectations of pain, and their equating of bad sex with pain, and linking that to loss of virginity are quite blindingly obvious when pointed out. 
I think this needs to go further too. Women often don't know 'good' sex. For a male, orgasming is easy as there's an appendage there, waiting to be tugged upon, easily accessible and you can see the results of an orgasm. For women, this is so much more difficult.
You grow up, or I did at least, being told not to touch your gentitals, not to explore 'down there', and an orgasm was never well described. When I explored my body, I had no clue if what was pleasure was an orgasm or just pleasure. When I lost my virginity, I still wasn't entirely sure if I'd orgasmed or just felt good. I was a few years past lost virginity before I met a guy who knew a hell of a lot more about women's bodies than I did. He knew a hell of a lot more about sex than I did, and he introduced me to sexual openness, good sex, asking for what you wanted, and expecting reciprocal pleasure. If I hadn't met him, I would have had book learning and fumbling with guys who knew as little as I did.
I've had a number of sexual partners (not enough to make any huge sweeping statements about mankind, so these are just my opinions from my experiences) and their amount of knowledge and care of me has varied. I've had sex where I've sucked up the pain, bit my lip and waited for it to be done, pushed my partner away and yelled in pain after he hadn't listened when I was hurt. I've had men tell me I couldn't be in pain because it wasn't possible that they were doing anything to hurt. 
Have I said anything about this? No. Why not? Because I respected the guy's feelings. I didn't want to embarrass them, I felt it was something I did wrong, I wasn't going to see them again so it didn't matter. Various reasons.
But it does matter. We should be able to educate our partners. We should expect to be able to have some pleasure. We should expect our needs to be taken seriously.
When I was unknowledgeable, it was embarrassing, but hell, I had a ready teacher and I got over my embarrassment. I had the best sex I've ever experienced. I learned what good sex was. I learned what an orgasm was, even multiple orgasms. He seemed to enjoy it as much as I did, and in actual fact, I think he taught pleasure so well, that sex lasted much longer than usual because the mental connection was a stronger aphrodisiac than the physical intimacy.
So why don't men want to learn? Why don't they want to improve? Why don't they want to discuss, compromise, change their actions, to have a much more fulfilling experience?
I wish I had the answers.
A bad sex book has been flitting about in my head for so long because there are so many women who have had bad sex, and speaking about it to an erotic author seems to be the norm :) But, bad sex has never been something you can write in romance. But maybe I need to write it as erotica. And the world seems to be opening up enough that such a book might be read.
Any thoughts on this? Or on the article?

Saturday Search - Reliigion

This is the start of my new series if posts on Searching for Something. I'm not sure what it is, sort of a search for myself, and the meaning of life, or my life at least! I think it might be a -0 age milestone. A change in hormones. Who knows. I just have been doing some exploring and finding amazing things that I'd like to share, and write about some of my experiences.

They're not going to be mainstream for the most part. And my views are probably not those of the majority. However I will try to be honest, and give a reasoned discussion as much as I can.

Topic 1 is Religion.
I was raised in a conservative religious household, in quite a strict Catholic manner. I had no bad experiences in Church as a kid. We had fantastic priests who challenged me to a lot of deep thinking when I questioned them. I did bible study classes, played music at Mass, read the Readings, all those things that you do when you're highly involved in something. Before I left home, I was on the liturgy committee, taught Sunday school, played music, and was still highly involved.

My parents were also highly involved, and Mum had a real devotion to her religion and God. At about the age I am now, she began going on annual retreats and learning more about her spirituality. She did a daily scripture reading and wrote about it. I guess it was like a meditation, or a placing her life and her worries into a spiritual context.

Religious discussions were not uncommon in our household. I asked a lot of questions. The priests we knew were quite incredible theologians and so if they came to dinner, discussions were many, varied, and not to be missed. We had all orders of priests and nuns that were family friends and were often part of meals, or family events. And it wasn't confined to Catholicism. I studied comparative religions in Yrs 11 and 12, so discussions could range across any and every topic imaginable especially when I asked questions. Sometimes these discussions went long into the night, leaving poor mum nodding off at the table trying to be a great hostess, while Dad and I and whoever was visiting were wide awake and into the discussions.

When I left home, I was given a blessing during Mass in our Parish and presented with a Parish Candle. It was a really touching moment to be recognised in my community. A community I'd been an active member of for my entire life.

I moved to a country town, and I know the religious people in Sydney were despairing of where I went because the Bishop was quite strict, behind-the-times, and was in the middle of a huge dispute with the local nuns. They all probably knew were things that I'd struggle with, before i knew it myself. I was lucky in that I found the one 'cool' priest in the area and I loved attending the little church. I bought half a fan for that church when they asked parishioners to help cool the place. People gave what they could, so an older gentleman and I went halves in a fan. It was a great little community and I felt quite at home.

And then the priest got moved. He hadn't toed the Bishop's line and was banished (I think they termed it, 'moved on'). Soon after that, I walked out of church in the middle of the sermon. I'd had an absolute gutful of the hateful rhetoric that the priest was spewing out, so I up and left. I'd never done that in my life and it scared me. I kept waiting for lightning to strike me dead. It didn't.

I'd been brought up in a conservative, religious environment, but what I'd failed to notice was that as a bedrock, there was compassion and love. In this area, those were not the bedrock.

Fire and brimstone was the bedrock in the new area. Pre-marital sex, being homosexual or promiscuous, not obeying the Bishop's rule, these were all a feature of the heinous things done by people...and the reason I walked out of the church.

I never really returned. I came to see that people made the church and the community. One person in authority could ruin the entire place. One non-understanding, closed-minded man could kill community, make people turn towards hate, and ruin what had once been a loving family environment.

I didn't want to be a part of something where I had no voice and no control. I didn't want to support horridness, and closed-minded people. I know I have turned my back on many lovely people, but it's what I needed to do. I don't believe that large communities should be under the rule of one man in complete control. It got on my goat, terribly.

Religion, as with other things, can breed fanatics. I struggle with fanatics. I like moderates, people who allow everyone to be - or at least allow others to express their opinions openly and be heard. I like discussions, not rules. I abhor dictators.

Religion gave me a fabulous grounding in life. I've learned a lot from many discussions. I have respect for the many and varied religions of the world. They just aren't for me. I'm a lone wolf in my approach to (or quest for) spirituality.

Interestingly, on my Pinterest account, I've only ever received one rude and nasty comment from a stranger, and that was about something I pinned saying religion had started many wars. So if you'd like to leave a comment on my posts, please feel free to do so, but if there are any rude or nasty comments, they will be deleted. Thank you.

Anthologies

The very awesome Escape Publishing has made some anthologies which contain a couple of my published stories. This gives readers an ebook with a selection of similar themed titles, and can introduce readers to new-to-them authors.

Men in Uniform is an ebook containing Anna Clifton's Copping it Sweet, M A Grant's Lace and Lead, and my story, The Virginity Mission.







Secret Confessions Down & Dusty The Complete Collection is a compilation of all 8 stories in the series.









I love seeing stories finding new readers, and I hope these anthologies will find a place in people's hearts.

Last Year, This Year

Last year was a battle. I had a virus that knocked me around for months. Rest and fluids wasn't enough. Specialists questioning my sanity were not appreciated. I lost faith in the system, or what faith I had left anyway. I've been battling the system all my life, and towards the end of last year, I stopped fighting. I'm taking a walk away from the system - not just the health system, but the norms of society too.You probably realise I've been heading towards this for some years given my posts against society's views on sexuality and sex.

2018 is the year I'm going to express the inner me, and let you join in the journey I've taken where I've been looking at alterrnative things. The weird but wonderful.

I'll try to share more of me - strange things I think, investigate, bring to myself, and dabble in. I'll try to post something each week and get into that habit again. I like expressing myself on my blog, and missed it last year. This is the new me with my lairy pants, complete with dragonflies, and my gemstones for balance and energy. I'll try not to scare everyone too much, so mostly I'll be lairy at home, but I did wear these down the street today and the world didn't end! I've always toned down to muted colours, jeans, and black trousers, but I love bright clashing things. I love colours with energy. So I'm going to try to have a few bright things I wear without worrying about what people think of the mad woman :)

I'm not entirely sure where my musings will take me, but I'm hoping to look at things like:ReligionFeminismTreesEnergyMeditationColourTarotRunesOracle cardsGemstonesDruidismAstrologyPhotographyArtNaturePast livesAkashic recordsPaganismSynchronicityMeditationMindfulnessWiccaLucid dreamingHecate, the Crone, and the three fatesAcupunctureChinese medicineReikiEnergy and chakras
Do you have anything you do that's a little alternate? Anything I should add to my list?

Merry Christmas

I'd like to wish you all the very best for the year's end. If you celebrate Christmas, Merry Christmas! 
Thank you for your support throughout 2017. I appreciate it very much.
May 2018 bring joy and happiness, new beginnings, and good health.
Cate xo

Thoughts on Writers

I went to the Wollongong Writers Festival, Sexy Words panel, yesterday. It's my local festival, or at least the closest one to me, and they have a romance panel supported by ARRA (Australian Romance Readers Association), which is a great thing. Not many writers festivals include romance, so I like to support it.

For a long time, I've been trying to work out what Indie authors (independent authors; those who self publish first and foremost, even if they may be published by a publisher later on) do that's different (and often more successful) to the more 'traditional' authors, and yesterday I think I had a brain break through. Although, it may be baloney!

This wasn't just because of the panel yesterday - it's the synthesis of years of puzzling, and the case of things falling into place yesterday. It may have been because of the questions, the answers, the authors, or it may just be that acupuncture is working, my viruses are no longer winning, and I'm starting to feel alive again (thank heavens!)

In a nutshell, this is what I'm now thinking - 

Traditional authors - those with a publisher, including hybrids (those who publish by self and with a publisher) - are marketing a product. Indie authors are marketing themselves.

I'm going to give grand generalisations here, and although I know generalisations aren't right, they're the only way I can illustrate these points in a short post, and because not everyone falls into these 'categories'. I also can't give any details because after collecting thoughts over the last few years, I've no idea who I can attribute these things to any more. 

Traditionally, authors have been those who write a creative work that's the 'best they can do at the time' and they keep writing more stories, trying to perfect the craft of writing. Publishers have 'standards' which authors are trying to meet, to attain publication. Having one book accepted is no guarantee that another book will meet the same standards.

So, those authors who follow the traditional method, and are looking for a publisher's 'validation' are selling a product and trying to make that product the best they can create. They also follow some sort of 'rules' to meet these 'criteria' - although these are rather nebulous.

Indie authors have a different mindset, as far as I can work out. [Please remember, vast generalisations and since I'm not Indie, I have no way of knowing if I'm correct here.] Indie authors are selling themselves. Their books are them, their life, their fantasies, their struggles, their dreams. They aren't looking to attain any standard, they're writing purely for themselves and their friends (and their readers become their friends).

Where publishers caution you not to reply to reviews, Indie authors are in there, having robust discussions about their books, telling readers/friends where the stories developed and how they know that what they did is right for their story, their characters (or accepting if they made an error).

Indie authors share the process. Traditional authors are wrapped up in secrecy because of contracts.

Where traditional authors are hesitant and not sure of their work; Indie authors have written a fantastic story and they love every single word of it.

Publishers encourage you to have a social media presence, but you're a business. Indie authors have a social media presence that is them, no holding back.

The Indie phenomenon has turned the creation and sale of stories on its head.

For a long time, I could see extrovert/introvert. But that's too narrow a focus. All Indies aren't extroverts, in the same way that all traditionalists aren't introverts. So I think I've come a long way past that now. I'm getting a bigger and better understanding of the difference.

And... yet... even as I know this, I don't think I can change me.

I'm an introvert. I value privacy, but my family values it more highly than I do. I'm also notoriously bad at sharing me, but especially when I'm vulnerable. For example, I wrote about my sickness when I was getting better. There is no way I could have said that I was sick, when I was really ill. I curl into a ball when I'm sick, and to have others poke at me even with the best of intentions, isn't something I can cope with. I hardly let Mr E bring me a glass of water, much less have other people offer me kindness.

So, although I've had this revelation about how I can interact more with readers and hence have better reader relationships and sales, it's not something I can possibly do.

But, I will try to change. I'll try to be proud of what I've produced - instead of thinking I can do better. I will try to share more of me. I will try to interact more.

And if you prod me when I forget these things, I won't growl :) I'll try hard to feel the poke as a loving reminder that I'm falling into old habits.

Writing Festivals bring about some very unusual thoughts! I love them :)

How do you feel about Writing Festivals?
What are your thoughts on Indie and traditional published authors?

Saturday Soapbox - women as weaker part 2

I know, it's Sunday, but I have more I need to get off my chest.

Women are often their own worst enemy. My words towards the end of the last post made me run onto this tangent.

"Boys will be boys." 
"Some men don't know any better." 
"Not all men are like that." 
"Don't rock the boat." 
"You need to take the higher ground."
"Turn the other cheek."
"Don't be like that, men like to be needed."
"Dress to impress."
"Don't try to be one of the boys; men don't like that."
"You can't be friends with men."
"All men want is sex, not emotion or connection."

OMG, the platitudes. They just start spewing out of me. I've heard all these things a thousand millions times over the years. They've been drummed into my mind from a very young age and so I have to actually push them aside before I find my own voice.

This is what women do. This is how we keep ourselves in a subservient position.

Fuck that!

No more.

In publishing, look how many stories are written by women, about subservient women. It boggles my mind. I don't like reading them. I know there's the argument that the woman becomes stronger by the end (or she tames the alpha) or whatever tale we want to tell ourselves...but we're perpetuating the 'women are lesser' myth. We. Women. Are doing this to ourselves.

If that's your fantasy - fine. I don't have a problem with it being a sexual fantasy. My problem is that it's a reality for the world. We need to debunk that. We need to change that.

If 80% of stories (this is my guess, which may be somewhat exaggerated) written by women, for women, perpetuate the subservience of women...then can we ever change reality?

If publishers say, "This isn't romance, the woman isn't showing herself as weaker and in need of saving," then we're not helping change the world. We aren't truly reflecting what we want the world to be. We're shoving a stereotype down other women's throats and not letting other fantasies/stories happen.

Can't we have strong women in romance?
Can't we have women who want to have what they want?
Can't we have heroines who save themselves? Heroines who know what they want, and go after that?

Heroines can be strong and still have a hero fall in love with them. Or in my world, they can.

Why are we putting women into subservient roles in so so so many stories??????

Break the damn mould. Let women be strong.

Take a leaf from Wonder Woman; she's strong, powerful, knows what she wants, and is capable of respect and love.

STOP telling each other that we're weaker. STOP telling each other that we're lesser. STOP telling each other we need a man to save us, make us whole.

We need to believe in ourselves. We need to believe in each other. We need to know that we can be loved, strong, and equal.