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Hi, there. Remember me?  Obviously, I’ve been a little MIA lately… and by lately I mean these past 3+ months. And all I can say is…

I’m sorry. I’ve been wrapped up in, well, life and haven’t felt so “bloggy”. To quote my step-mom, I developed a massive case of “blog clog”.

Part of it is I had a topic in mind (a tough one) but couldn’t express myself about it clearly and effectively. Another large part is that I’ve had a million and one things on my mind: grad school applications, where to live, travel expenses, work, my health. All of which are still precariously being juggled. And I’m not the best juggler, folks. Something had to give.

And so it was the blog.

I’m ready now and will spend the next couple of posts addressing some of the *ish I’ve been through lately, but first and foremost I need to tackle That Subject… you know, the aforementioned “tough one”.

And here’s why. It seems that lately our good ole’ American society has seen a couple “incidents” that simultaneously infuriate and sadden me beyond belief.

Like this one from February:  “Response to Beating Stirs Anger” (or what could be more appropriately named “Piss-Poor and Inhumane Response to Beating Stirs Anger”).

Or the one last year I saw on the Today Show about a woman named Maria: “She cried rape – and no one helped”.

Or this one, which I saw on Yahoo News today: “Homeless good Samaritan left to die on NYC street”.

Reading and hearing about these stories makes me physically ill. PHYSICALLY ILL. As it should all of you.

Now normally on this blog, I focus on sharing my experiences and the realizations that came about as a result. I try to do this in non-overbearing manner. Less preachy, more “Ah-ha!” (I hope I succeed.)

Regardless, this post will be none of those things. It will be preachy. It will be direct. I will get on my soap box and talk down to you. I apologize in advance. (Sorry.) It’s just that this is how upset this whole topic makes me.

And what topic is that exactly? Well, my Pysch 101 class called it the “bystander effect” or the “Kitty Genovese phenomenon”. Basically it’s when in an emergency situation (like say someone bleeding to death on a city street or a teenager getting her head bashed in by other young girls) people internally pass the responsibility to help, to interfere onto others, thinking “Oh someone else will help” justifying (in their minds) the fact that they didn’t stop and assist. (Okay now mind you, I do NOT have a psychology degree and this is without a doubt an oversimplified definition… disclaimer done.)

These stories hurt my soul. They hurt me so very deeply. I am (to a fault) overly involved in other people’s business. Welcome to my family. Part of that translates into I am That Person. You know, the one who stops the car and walks the random stray dog home or the one who calls the police when they see an aggressive act or the one who stops after witnessing an accident to see if there’s any way to help.

It drives my boyfriend crazy. But hey, that’s just me. It’s how I was raised. It’s what I saw both my parents do time and time again. I have vivid memories of both my mom and my dad DOING THE RIGHT THING and calling the police when a neighbor’s fight got too violent or when a friend was battered by her husband. They never just ignored the situation. Sometimes they directly inserted themselves, but mostly (due to usually having small kids around whose safety was their number one concern) they simply called the police and let the professionals do their job.

Because agaaaain… IT’S THE RIGHT THING TO DO.

To me, it’s as simple as that.

Now here’s another important disclaimer:

Five years ago, something very, very awful DIDN’T happen to me and it was because of the heroic actions of several strangers.

Yes, I too was once brutally attacked and almost raped. The only reason I wasn’t actually raped and probably killed? Because two miraculous men (who I still privately offer thanks to every single day) physically dragged the assailant off me when their cries of “Stop! The police are coming!” didn’t deter him.

For the record, I do not share my own personal story here looking for your pity. Seriously. Screw your pity. I chose to share all this so that a victim’s point of view can be understood and more importantly so a very simple and clear point can hopefully be realized: Be a positive force in our world. Step in; help those who need it. MAKE A DIFFERENCE.

Consider my story as compared to that of the other young woman, Maria. We both faced a similar road, but our ultimate destinations, the outcomes, were drastically different because of the people around us. The people around me chose to do the right thing. The people around Maria did not.

However, I realize this is a pretty sensitive issue. Many would argue that those people who put themselves in harms way for me, a complete stranger, were out of their minds. Who am I to pass judgment? What if the man attacking me had a weapon? What if he then harmed them? I recognize and understand the fear of putting oneself in a potentially life-threatening situation.

But I ask: Have you ever had your sense of safety threatened? Have you ever been shoved down onto somebody’s front stoop, amidst their garbage and trash, and thought, as you fought frantically for your life and screamed and cried at the top of your lungs for help, the same thing over and over again: “Kitty Genovese. Oh my god, I’m going to be the next Kitty Genovese”?

I don’t know what’s worse: Thinking you’re going to be raped and then killed or thinking you’re going to be raped and killed while no body does anything about it.

For me, it’s the latter.

Again though, I get not wanting to consciously enter into harms way. Seriously I do. It goes against our most basic survival instincts. But consider also the story of the other two people who directly helped me that night: two middle-aged women.

Instead of running outside and inserting themselves into the situation like the previously mentioned men, these women called the police immediately and then stayed at their apartment window and yelled the same way my two male heroes did. (According to the police report that is… the only person I remember yelling “stop” was me, but that’s adrenaline for you.) And as soon as the police reached the scene, these women came outside and stayed with me until the paramedics arrived. They even apologized to me… These two women apologized for not coming out sooner. (That in of itself amazes me.) But like most people would have been, they were probably afraid. And I don’t fault them for that. At all. Rather I am forever grateful to them for doing what they did. Because they too are part of the reason I’m still alive today.

So here are four people who took action in various ways but, the main point is, they all took action. They didn’t make a call and then walk away thinking they’d done their part. They didn’t pass the responsibility to help me onto someone else. They shouldered what I recognize is an immense burden and literally saved my life.

I cry as I read stories like those of Mr. Tale-Yax’s or Maria’s or the 15 year old girl, and I am deeply sorrowful for these people. I am saddened for Maria, for example, not only because of the despicable assault that she suffered through, but also because unlike me, she came away from this awful situation having no hope to cling to. Because what ultimately helped me through the PTSD and allowed me to heal emotionally was that while instead of continually focusing on the attacker and how he violated me, I could eventually focus on the kindness and the compassion, the courage and the strength of those individuals who helped me when I needed it most.

Even in this hateful, hateful event, there was love. With their actions, those fours strangers showed incredible amounts of love, and luckily, it overpowered the hate – both literally in that moment and within me, as I continue to move forward.

So please, please, please… be the love. Be a positive force in our world. Step in; help those who need it. MAKE A DIFFERENCE.