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Beyond mortified over the events of the other night, I spent yesterday feeling miserable on SO many levels and last night was unable to go to sleep, ended up on the couch.

However, I was proactive in getting our phones back. It didn't really occur to me until this morning. At least I accomplished something, despite my deep fear, although I wasn't able to speak to the Trooper (in person) without breaking down and stuttering.

Talking with the Trooper last night, we were informed that the location our phones were stolen from has had numerous complaints and is known as a trouble spot. Obviously we did not know this before we went, although we did know it could be a bit low-brow and certainly not the nicest place. Thankfully we know it now.

Today I awoke, still feeling sick to my stomach over the way the crowd there, handled the situation. I won't go into details but really there were two situations; one involving me, one involving someone else, both at the same time.

Yesterday I spent a lot of time and energy talking with the owner of the place (and receiving hate mail and comments from some of her "flock" [as I call it]) whose attitude reflects a lot of peoples' attitudes: get over it. I changed my profile picture to solid black - I did not want to be seen. I was terrified all day yesterday.

I was really hurt Sunday night. Deeply hurt by the actions of a number of people who would not listen when Bill tried explaining to them that I was having a panic attack.

Yesterday and this morning, I felt like sandbags were tied to my arms and legs. Heavy. Just so heavy.

But then I thought, isn't this what you're so against? Isn't this what you have wanted to try to help fix for so long? Isn't this why you chose to share your story to begin with? To stop this kind of stuff?

So now, still feeling heavy and hurt and bewildered and confused and a host of other things, I also realize it was a heavy dose of reality: people don't understand and those who might, won't ever admit it because incest and molestation and rape are all so taboo that they don't want to talk about it. I can guarantee at least one person in the mob that was attacking us had been sexually assaulted, considering the statistics, but more likely, there were several. Still, they participated in the verbal and physical brutality. Better and easier to run with the pack, than to show weakness, I suppose.

It seems to be almost a catch 22: the uneducated and poor (such as those where we were the other night), don't want to know anything about it (they have their own problems) and the educated and wealthy don't want to know anything about it because you should just get over it and get a job (besides, they have their own problems and it's easier to donate to Easter Seals or some Cancer organization than to help with child abuse and rape. You don't have to get involved).

Of course, there are exceptions.... I'm sure there are. I'd like to meet them.

My safety was taken away that night and as much as I missed singing karaoke for all these months, I doubt I'll be doing it anytime soon again.

Compassion. It's been sucked out of people by the condition of this world.

What a shame.