What's KP Thinking?

- Covid Drove Me Inside…In More Ways Than One.
  
  Posted at 4:44 pm by kpodulka, on August 11, 2020
  We’re now 5 months into the pandemic, and I’m taking stock. What has this time taught me? What has it brought out in me? How has it changed me? Is it even possible to be the same person on the other side of this thing? Let’s explore.
  
  Inside My Home
  
  Back in March, we were all told to go inside and stay inside for our own safety. At first it felt scary, but necessary. My family and I played puzzles, baked bread, hoarded toilet paper and Clorox, and downloaded Zoom. I found it almost a relief to take pause…to have an excuse to forgo all previous obligations. I could stop going to the gym, stop taking the kids to school and sports, stop going to dentist and ortho appointments, stop wearing makeup, bras, (anything other than pajamas really), stop going crazy with my over scheduled, overwhelming life. It was novel, almost cozy. And we all knew it would be over soon and we’d be back to “normal”.
  
  Next came April. And I thought “OK, let’s power thru this month, and we’ll be in the clear.” I stayed hunkered down while sewing masks, donating to Feedingmerica.org, re-posting memes, and chuckling as my favorite late night TV hosts filmed from their living rooms. I was still planning our summer vacations, and booking kids in camps, because no way this thing was gonna last thru summer.
  
  While the kids were in “Zoom school”, and my hubby worked from home all day, I starting finding my own online classes to take. Why not? Something to do beyond baking bread. I choose ones that looked interesting, like “Emotional Freedom Technique for Reducing Anxiety”, “How to Use a Pendulum for Answers”, “Honing Your Intuition”, and “Reiki Energy Healing”. I downloaded an online course called “You Can Heal Your Life” and watched videos by leaders in the field of spirituality and consciousness. I scheduled readings with an astrologer and a psychic. I joined an amazing women’s group called “Wake Up With Your Inner Goddess“. I had no master plan. I was exploring. Led only by my curiosity to learn new things. I was having fun while staying inside my home.
  
  Inside My Head
  
  Then May. We were still shelter in place, still inside our homes. But now I also found myself inside my head asking constant questions that had no answers. Why were cases of the virus going up, not down? Why were there so many deaths? Why were people choosing not to wear masks? Why was the U.S. not getting a handle on this thing? Who was in charge? Am I really living thru a global pandemic?? What the actual fuck was going on??? Was I supposed to be cancelling my summer plans?? Was this for real?? This virus was supposed to be gone by now—where’s the “back to normal” I was promised???
  
  School ended the year online, with no grades. No graduations. Sports were canceled. My husband brought home a full size monitor, ergonomic chair, and printer/scanner to embellish his home office (and by office I mean the tiny space in our bedroom located directly between the bed and dresser.) He was no longer working from home–he was now living at work.
  
  I was also still taking classes online and expanding my knowledge of energy work, angelic realms, past lives, metaphysics, meditation, and quantum healing. I learned new words like “Kundalini”, “Akashic Records”, “Ayurveda”, “Shamanic” and “Lightworker” to name a few. I read these books:
  - A Return To Love: Reflections on the Principles of “A Course in Miracles”
  - Mary Magdalene Revealed: The First Apostle, Her Feminist Gospel & the Christianity We Haven’t Tried Yet
  - Raising Your Vibration: 111 Practices to Increase Your Spiritual Connection
  - Welcoming the Unwelcome: Wholehearted Living in a Brokenhearted World
  - Why Are You Sick? Practical Tools for Wellness
  - Essential Oils as Natural Remedies: The Complete A-Z Reference of Essential Oils for Health and Healing
  - The Crystal Bible
  - The Women’s Wheel of Life
  - Ayurveda Beginners Guide: Essential Ayurvedic Principles and Practices to Balance and Heal Naturally
  - The Only Astrology Book You’ll Ever Need
  I found myself studying these books and videos as if it were required of me. Like I was preparing for some final exam. I made a binder with printouts, took notes, and journaled. I meditated daily. I attended New Moon and Full Moon ceremonies online each month. I created an inspirational bulletin board, bought crystals, purchased more oracle decks, and started making my own essential oil sprays. The whole time quenching my thirst for this knowledge, feeding my craving for understanding, furthering my insistence that the questions in my head must have answers somewhere…
  
  Next came June. It was officially summer and we were still officially screwed as a country. It was chaos. Some states reopened, some had never closed. Some required masks, some had protests about not wearing masks. One weekend beaches were open, the next they were closed. Some restaurants were open for outdoor seating only, others were packed with people eating and drinking. Some people believed scientists, others believed the President. The constant confusion, concern and unrest was fogging my brain. The more I tried to think of solutions the more perplexed I became.
  
  I cancelled all summer plans. No annual camping trip with our friends from Oregon, no annual trip back to Michigan to see family, no road trip to Yellowstone National Park. I also cancelled the kid’s camps and our community pool membership. My city cancelled all of it’s summer plans as well…no July 4th Festival, no Concerts in the Park, no May Fete parade. Summer 2020 was a complete bust.
  
  Since my calendar was now completely clear, I signed up to be certified in Reiki Energy Healing. I really didn’t give it much forethought–it was automatic in some way. The classes felt more like “remembering” than “learning”. The Reiki principles spoke directly to my heart. After completing levels 1 & 2 of Reiki certification, I knew energy healing was my path forward. It’s true that through chaos comes transformation, and I had found a way to transform my questions into answers. Without really knowing what I had been searching for since March, I had found energy healing. Or rather…energy healing had found me.
  
  Inside My Soul
  
  Throughout July I practiced Reiki Energy Healing on anyone and everyone who would let me…friends, neighbors, family, my cat, plants. And like the Universal Law says, the more I gave, the more I received. I received messages from my guides, my intuition heightened, I connected with spirits who had passed on, I made peace with my inner child. I literally manifested and experienced magic every single day. I had never felt so “in the flow” of life before. Everything felt effortless. So how was I doing all of this? What was I doing differently?
  
  What I learned is that I didn’t “do” anything. In fact, I stopped “doing”, and started “being”. I took the time confined in my house and stuck in my head, and used it to go into my soul. It wasn’t easy. At times I wanted to quit. Wasn’t my “unenlightened life” so much easier?? But I found that once I woke up, it was impossible to go back to sleep. Though I couldn’t literally travel during this time, I could travel into the depths of my soul thru meditations, shamanic journeys, and past life regressions. I let go. I gave up control. I let the universe unfold at will. I stopped searching for answers outwardly, and instead looked inward. And guess what? All the answers were right there within me all along. I learned the only real life lesson there is: we are pure light and love. That’s all there is. Everything else is an illusion.
  
  It’s now August. Covid rages on. There’s no end in sight. School’s about to begin again…online. We’re only half way thru 2020, which feels both too short and too long to be true. Days of the week are irrelevant. I’m letting my natural hair color grow in for the first time since high school. I stopped shaving my everything. My husband has a full beard. My kids now play video games 400 hours a day. The cat cannot figure out why we’re always home. I want all new furniture. The dishes are never ending. I miss my friends. I miss hugs.
  
  But we’ve made it this far. We can and will get thru this historic pandemic. Because, really, what choice do we have? So if you need me, you’ll find me deep inside my soul, sending light & love to the whole world, and practicing Reiki on anyone and everyone who will let me. See ya on the other side!
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  Posted in advice, life, love, self, soul, spirituality, Spirituality, Work Life Balance | 1 Comment
- FOMO is real and it might just kill us all.
  
  Posted at 3:08 pm by kpodulka, on August 4, 2020
  Fear of missing out is the real pandemic.
  
  I had a good “Covid Cry” yesterday. Most days I can pretty much keep a grip on the dystopian reality we now live in, but every once in a while grief knocks me over and I’m a puddle of tears. The cry is never for one specific thing–it’s more of a general catchall weeping. Tears and boogers pool at my chin for the unending chaos, the uncertain future, the angst of decision making, the mass confusion, the lack of an end in sight, and of course the mounting sickness and tragic deaths occurring daily in our country.
  
  Living thru a global pandemic is hard. And most people don’t like to do hard things, we avoid them at all costs. Especially Americans. Generally speaking, Americans are soft. I know this is an unpopular opinion and we like think of ourselves as tough, but that’s just our self-proclaimed brand. I beg to differ. Majority of Americans are soft because we don’t know what it means to experience true hardship. We think hardship is the WiFi going out. Or Amazon taking too long to deliver our laundry detergent. We confuse hardship with inconvenience. We joke about “first world problems” from the comfort of our airconditioned homes. We’re whiney and selfish and entitled. And this pandemic is exposing us for who we really are.
  
  Just for a moment, think about what we’ve been asked to do over the past 5 months. We’ve been asked to stay home, wear a mask, and not gather in large groups. That’s all. That’s it. And WE CAN’T DO IT! We whine about personal freedoms, planned weddings, little league, birthday parties, graduations and vacations. We feel entitled to these norms and we’re terrified to miss out. We want them like a petulant child wants a binkie. “But my friend got to have her wedding last year! I want MY wedding!” Except last year there wasn’t a global pandemic Pam. You have options, you just don’t like them. Re-schedule your wedding for, oh I don’t know, a time when there’s no pandemic. Or have it over Zoom. Or cancel it. Difficult times call for difficult decisions.
  
  Americans also like to brand themselves as independent. You know another word for independent? Separate. Which we are not. We all live together in a shared society, and individual actions affect the greater good. So when one person in a community goes on vacation they risk bringing Covid back with them, putting their entire community at risk. That’s how the virus spreads. We know that for a fact. We see examples of this in news coverage every single day. Yet based on the vacation pics all over social media, no one seems to give a shit about the greater good. They care more about their summer holiday and the perfect Instagram pic. As a society, we are only as strong as our weakest link. And our weakest link just got back from Cabo.
  
  A common defense for not following Covid precautions (other than conspiracy theories, which I will not even dignify with a mention here) is that everyone has a different risk threshold, and people make choices based on how much they’re willing to risk. And that would be fine if we all lived in our own bubbles. BUT WE DON’T. We are communal creatures living in neighborhoods, cities, and towns, and we’re all interconnected. We shop at the same grocery stores, walk our dogs down the same streets, and go to the same doctors office. Your risk-taking directly affects me. So you may be fine traveling this summer, but you didn’t ask for my consent to come back into our shared spaces afterwards.
  
  Are we really so afraid of missing out on traditions, vacations and celebrations that we’re willing to risk potential illness or death? Death is as serious as it gets folks. The stakes don’t get any higher. Can we not press pause for a year or so until this situation gets under control? Can we not sacrifice a BIRTHDAY PARTY for safety? There will be other parties, other vacations, other milestones in life. I can almost guarantee you won’t die from missing one, however I cannot guarantee you won’t die from Covid.
  
  Forget needing a treatment or vaccine for Covid–what America really needs is a swift dose of compassion, empathy and solidarity to get us through this critical time in our nation’s history. God help us all.
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  Posted in Uncategorized | 0 Comments | Tagged American society, covid, empathy, FOMO, Society
- The Fall That Woke Me
  
  Posted at 6:41 pm by kpodulka, on May 22, 2020
  What could have undone me, actually put me back together again. This is the story of the fall that woke me.
  
  I fell down, yet rose up.
  I was broken, yet made whole.
  I was still, yet moved like never before.
  I was confused, yet clarity came forth.
  I mourned what was lost, yet abundance was abound.
  I was hurting on the outside, yet healing on the inside.
  I slept all the time, yet was awake for the first time.
  I was alone, yet found solace in my own company.
  My bones were weak, yet my soul was strong.
  
  Ten days after my 40th birthday, I fell and shattered my left shin and ankle. It was an early Friday morning in late April 2015, and my friend and I were walking through the mall, chatting and catching up. We had just come from Starbucks, and were both holding a steaming hot cup of coffee. I was dressed for work in a cobalt blue sheath dress and super cute just-from-the-box 3-inch wedge sandals. The mall was practically empty, and eerily quiet as no stores were yet open.
  
  Then it happened. One minute I was walking, talking, sipping my coffee, the next minute I was flung forward, hurling my coffee in front of me, landing face first onto the floor of the mall. I didn’t slip. Didn’t trip. Didn’t stumble. Didn’t lose my footing. No one bumped into me. I literally went from being upright to being sprawled on the floor in the blink of an eye.
  
  The pain was immediate, intense, and all encompassing. I knew instantly that I couldn’t stand up–didn’t even attempt to. I started screaming “FUUUUUUUUUCK!!!!!!” at the top of my lungs. Repeatedly. Loudly. I could hear my fucks echoing through the empty mall corridors. As I lie there in excruciating pain, I fluctuated between feeling like I was going to vomit, and feeling like I was going to black out. I remember the fucks flying out of my mouth uncontrollably. I started apologizing to no one in particular for my vulgarity, but could not stop screaming obscenities. (Side note: I later read that “swearing activates the so-called ‘fight or flight’ response, leading to a surge of adrenaline and a subsequent pain relieving effect on our immune system.” #justified)
  
  As I was laid out flat on my stomach screaming, a face suddenly appeared in front of mine. It was a teenage girl, a complete stranger, who squatted down next to me and started talking to me in the most soothing, assuring voice. “You’re OK. We’re calling an ambulance. You’re OK.” I could see her mom (I assumed), my friend, and mall security in the background. She took my hand and started asking me questions. “What do you do for a living?” I answered, stammering, still swearing and swallowing vomit, “marketing”. She continued to talk to me, listen to my fucks, and reassure me. To this day I wish I knew her name. I would call her and thank her. I’d thank this young empathetic, beautiful stranger for holding my hand, staying with me, sharing my pain, and enduring my profanity. She was my angel of fucks.
  
  The paramedics arrived and two complete hotties flipped me over on my back and lifted me onto a gurney. That’s when I saw my ankle for the first time. Sideways. It was leaning sideways in a way that can only be described as…unnatural. I immediately demanded drugs. My screams of swears turned to screams of “MORPHINE! GIVE ME MORPHINE! I KNOW YOU HAVE IT!” Hottie #1 told me they had to check my vitals before they could administer any drugs. This did not shut me up. Once inside the ambulance, my friend called my husband to tell him what happened, and where to meet us at the hospital. Once we got to the hospital and I got my morphine, I had my friend take a photo. As one does. #priorities
  
  The next few hours were a blur (see above paragraph regarding morphine). My friend left, my husband arrived, xrays were taken, and it seemed like a million different doctors and nurses came and went. I do remember one nurse who came in, looked at my xrays, and said “My God, your leg and ankle are crushed. Were you in a car accident?”. To which I replied, “No. I was drinking coffee at the mall.”
  
  The hospital sent me home that day, because the swelling was too sever to operate. That car ride home was hell. Every bounce, bump, and shake sent a jolt of lightening pain through me. My left shin and ankle were a bag of loose bones wrapped up to reduce swelling. I waited a week on my couch, heavily sedated, before having reconstructive surgery to put me back together again.
  
  I spent the next 11 months either on bed rest, on a scooter, on crutches, in a boot or in physical therapy learning to walk again. Then one evening in March 2016, not quite a year since my break, I was reaching up to put a glass away in a high cupboard, and I twisted my left ankle funny. And by funny, I mean I fucking re-broke the damn thing. That same week I was back in surgery for the second time in a year. I was devastated physically, mentally, and emotionally. Back to square one. Another year of recovery and learning to walk again. Another year on the couch.
  
  And yet…
  
  Looking back now on that time in my life, I see what happened to me in a new, shinier light. For all the time I spent physically recovering, I also spent spiritually awakening. As my ankle was healing, so was my soul.
  
  I meditated for the first time, and joined a “New Moon Women’s Circle”. I found an energy healer (5 doors down from me!) who taught me about chakras, family constellations, and color therapy. I started watching the news, and caring about world events. I followed politics, learned to protest and advocate for equality. I attended the first Women’s March in Washington D.C. which was a down-right religious experience. I enrolled in my first self-help class called “The Unstoppable Program” which taught me how to be kind to myself and reclaim sparkle and joy in my life. I read a book that forever changed the way I see my parents and learned to set boundaries. I discovered the Enneagram and how to both acknowledge and work through my deepest fears. Oh, and I quit my career in soul-crushing corporate America after 20 years. Literally just left my badge and laptop on my desk and walked out forever. I started saying yes to life, and no to anxiety, guilt, silence, and staying small.
  
  Not that any of this was easy. The stuff that changes us at our core rarely is. My marriage hit a turning point, I lost a lot of friends, and I gained 60 pounds. Nothing in my life looks the same since I fell. It looks different. But that’s what happens when the light shifts, doesn’t it? Shadows disappear and things are clearer. I believe the Universe had to knock me over so I could stand back up. Stronger, spiritual, and shining love.
  
  This is 45.
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  Posted in Equal Rights, feminism, life, love, poem, self, soul, Spirituality | 2 Comments | Tagged Corporate America, enneagram, feminism, injury, meditation, self help, self love, soul, soul searching, spirituality, trauma, wellness
- Here’s What I Know So Far
  
  Posted at 1:21 pm by kpodulka, on March 22, 2020
  Coronavirus is the shock to our system that we need.
  
  We were due for this. It was bound to happen sooner or later. We had too many good years, decades really, without issue. Yes we had tragedies such as 9/11, hurricanes, school shootings, but those tragedies didn’t unite us. They divided us. They increased our discourse. They didn’t bring out our best qualities of love, compassion and empathy. Rather they brought out our worst qualities of hate, blame and division. I’m sorry to say, but they taught us nothing.
  
  We needed a bigger lesson, from a bigger teacher. One we could not ignore. One that treated us equally, and showed us once and for all that skin color, wealth, age, gender, and nationality do not matter. One that struck and killed people with no discrimination, no political agenda, no bias. The Coronavirus has knocked us down collectively to our most basic level of humanity. It’s shown us that we all require health, security and human connection to survive. This virus is showing us what we’ve ignored for too long–we’re all the same underneath.
  
  Did I know this grand lesson would show up as a virus? No. But I knew something would come that was all encompassing and completely out of our control. I pondered possible nuclear war, climate disaster, or alien invasion. I knew whatever came would downsize humanity, slow destruction of the planet, and bring us together in a way that only a global tragedy can do.
  
  But is tragedy the right word? Or is awakening more accurate? Is it destruction or reconstruction? Is it the end of what we know, or is it the beginning of what we can know?
  
  It’s impossible to know where this pandemic will take us. But what I know so far, is it will be for our greater good.
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  Posted in Uncategorized | 0 Comments | Tagged coronavirus, equality, humanity
- Mrs. Claus: An Update
  
  Posted at 10:27 pm by kpodulka, on December 12, 2019
  I’m finally giving the Mrs. her own story,
  
  ’cause she don’t need no man!
  
  We’re all familiar with Santa Claus and his list of names: Father Christmas, Saint Nicholas, Saint Nick, Kris Kringle, Sinter Klaas, or simply Santa. We know he’s a legendary figure originating in Western Christian culture who brings gifts to the homes of well-behaved children on Christmas Eve.
  
  We also know Dasher, and Dancer, and Comet, and Cupid…and the rest of the reindeer names because they have a whole song dedicated to them and their reindeer games.
  
  But WTF is Mrs. Claus’s first name? What do we know about her? Who IS the woman behind the man of Christmas lore?
  
  If you Google image search “Mrs. Claus”, your first 8,000 results are sexy Santa costumes, complete with mini skirts, fishnets, pleather boots, and corsets. Because I guess that’s what people think of when they think of Mrs. Claus–sex??
  
  On the other hand, if you Google the “history of Mrs. Claus”, you’ll find images of a doting Grandmother, wearing a bonnet and apron baking cookies and feeding the Mr. as he readies for his one-and-only day of work all year.
  
  (Because that’s how the patriarchy portrays women, as either sexy, or not sexy. That’s it. You’re either in your prime or past. Two dimensional. But I digress…)
  
  Songs, stories, and movies are no better at offering in-depth clues as to who Mrs. Claus is. She’s only ever portrayed in relation to Santa. She’s his wife, his helper, his biggest supporter. She’s happy existing just to follow him around the workshop. She washes his suit, reads letters from children, cooks for him, loads the sleigh, but stays at home on Christmas Eve while he travels the world. She does all the grunt work, he gets all the glory. Sound familiar ladies?? This song from 1953 pretty much sums it up. Or this gem from 2014.
  
  Well no more. It’s 2019 dammit–the supposed Year of the Woman (or at least someone shouted that to me from a megaphone at a Women’s March in January), and it’s time Mrs. Claus gets the attention, identity and backstory she deserves!
  
  For starters, let’s name her. She’s had a smattering of names in movies and books over the years, but nothing stuck. So I’m choosing Carol. That’s her name. Done.
  
  And now for the rest of her story…
  
  Carol Claus was born in Cologne, Germany and was known to be a curious, empathetic, insightful child. She graduated top of her high school class, and received a full scholarship to Stanford University to study Environmental Engineering. Following an internship at the Environmental Defense Fund, she earned her Masters Degree in Environmental Studies from Wageningen University and Research Center in the Netherlands.
  
  While living in the Netherlands she met Kris Kringle, a toy maker, childminder, and all around jolly guy. They dated on and off as she completed her advanced degree.
  
  Upon graduation, she was recruited by numerous top-tier companies to consult in environmental health, but she declined them all. Her dream was to live in the North Pole and research the effects of global warming in the Arctic first-hand. So she packed up her life and made the move North, bringing Kris along with her.
  
  Eventually, the two married and Kris took her last name, Claus. He also decided to change his first name to Santa at some point, but no one really knows why. Thus Santa Claus came to be. He kept up his toy making hobby, built a workshop and hired a bunch of elves–well you know the rest of his story.
  
  To this day, Carol Claus spends her time conducting research and analyzing environmental data to eliminate sources of pollutants and hazards affecting the environment. She’s only ever had one intern that we know of–a fierce Swedish woman named Greta.
  
  Carol tries to make it home for dinner every night, so she and Santa can share details of their day over a delicious meal he prepares. He fills her in on his tinkering and she shares her latest research findings from studying 3,000 year old sea ice. They’re both individually fulfilled and living their best lives, while also a happy, loving couple. As it should be my friends.
  
  Now that we know who Carol is, the legend of Christmas is finally complete. Joy to the World–equality has come!
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  Posted in Uncategorized | 1 Comment | Tagged Christmas, Christmas Story, equality, feminism, Global Warming, Greta Thunberg, Mrs. Claus
- What a Female-Centered Society Would Look Like
  
  Posted at 6:49 pm by kpodulka, on February 3, 2019
  In our current male-centric society, everything revolves around the male’s needs, opinions, wants and desires. The female’s role is secondary, and her needs are only considered, as they relate to the male.
  
  For example, according to Vocabulary.com, the vagina is defined as “An opening in a woman’s body that goes back to her uterus. In sex, the man’s penis goes into the vagina.” If this was written from the female point of view, I’d wager a guess that the definition would be more about things that come out of the vagina (periods, babies) rather than what occasionally goes in it.
  
  If our society was female focused, there would be no tax on tampons and pads. Period-related products would be considered an absolute necessity, like prescription drugs and food. Currently, in all but 9 states, menstrual products are considered “hygiene products” like deodorant, therefore deemed non-essential. Um, my underpants beg to differ 7 days every month.
  
  If our society took women’s needs into consideration, all maternity leave would be paid and jobs would be secure with no repercussions. It is possible to do, just ask Denmark. Also, schools and daycare hours would align with business hours. Please tell me how I’m supposed to go to work from 8:30-6:00, while my kid goes to school from 8:00-2:45. IT DOESN’T WORK.
  
  If our society put women’s wants & needs first, Hollywood would have more than just 4% female directors and 15% female writers making all of the movies in 2018. This disparity perpetuates the male’s point of view. Ever notice how many damsels in distress are in movies? Or clingy girlfriends? Or buzz-kill wives? Or bitchy bosses? Or gossipy girls? If women wrote our stories, I guarantee you female characters would be portrayed as the empathetic, capable, intelligent, multi-tasking heroes that we truly are!
  
  If America wanted to guarantee women were equal in our society, they’d add the ERA to the constitution. For those of you who don’t know, “The Equal Rights Amendment is a proposed amendment to the United States Constitution designed to guarantee equal legal rights for all American citizens regardless of sex; it seeks to end the legal distinctions between men and women in terms of divorce, property, employment, and other matters.” The ERA was first introduced to Congress in 1923. It’s now 2019 and we STILL do not have the necessary 38 states on board for full ratification. For those of you counting, that’s 96 years of fighting to guarantee women constitutional rights equal to those of men in the United States of America. If you’re not furious yet, read more here.
  
  If our society was female-centric, abortion wouldn’t be a political pawn. It would be considered health care and only discussed between a patient and her doctor. Same goes for female birth control–it would be readily available with no questions asked. You know, like condoms are.
  
  If society put women’s needs first, women would be believed when reporting abuse and assault. Not only would women be believed, they’d be protected and receive justice. And if assailants were appropriately punished, perhaps rape stats would go down. And then maybe women could feel safe in their own skin. Currently male’s reputations and careers are valued much higher than a woman’s truth. Just ask the United States Supreme Court.
  
  Finally, in no particular order, in a female-centered society, there’d be: no body-shaming, no age-shaming, no slut-shaming, for-fucks-sake-just-no shaming at all, also no high heels, no Spanx, no bras. Women would have equal pay, equal respect, equal representation, equal credibility, equal opportunities, equal say, and equal rights. Is that so much to ask?
  
  A girl can dream, right? Fuck that–a girl can fight! fight! fight! until we achieve equality!!
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  Posted in advice, Equal Rights, feminism, life, misogyny, rape culture, Uncategorized | 1 Comment | Tagged equality, feminism, rape culture
- To Rape or Not To Rape
  
  Posted at 12:33 pm by kpodulka, on October 7, 2018
  **TRIGGER WARNING**
  
  I was raped twice while I was in my twenties.
  
  During that same time period, I was also not raped thousands of times.
  
  See if you can spot the difference.
  
  The first time I was raped, was while I was in Cancun on spring break with my sorority sisters. I was very, very drunk in a crowded bar. I had lost track of my friends late one night, when the man I was dancing with led me by the arm, stumbling, out of the bar and onto the beach. I remember asking what was going on as I flopped down in the sand. He proceeded to lift up my dress and pull down my underwear. As he was having sex with me, I distinctly remember him asking me if I was on birth control. I answered no and he was really mad about it. He pulled out of me and came on my stomach. Then he left. He left me on the beach, in the dark, in Mexico, with sand up my private parts and cum running down my stomach. I remember getting myself up, walking back through the bar, still not seeing any of my friends, and taking the shuttle bus back to my hotel alone. I spent a full week on that vacation with my closest friends, and never told any of them what had happened to me. I believed all the blame was mine because I had been dancing drunk and lost track of my friends. I was embarrassed and ashamed.
  
  The second time I was raped, I was also on vacation with a girlfriend, drinking and dancing in crowded nightclub. I remember this guy, who told me he was a Miami cop, started dancing with me and I couldn’t get away from him—there were so many people—I was trapped. He held me close to him as he danced, groped me, and fingered me. Eventually I worked my way out of the club, leaving my girlfriend behind in desperation to escape. The guy followed me out and hailed a taxi saying it was for me, as I could barely walk from intoxication. I got in the taxi and told the driver the name of my hotel, when suddenly the guy got in next to me. The taxi dropped us both off at my hotel. The most vivid memory I have is walking into the hotel lobby and looking at the front desk employee thinking “Stop this! Stop him! I don’t want this! Make him leave me alone!” But the words never came out. I was too inebriated to even speak, let alone consent to anything that was happening. The guy followed me to my room, fished my key out of my purse, and had sex with me as I laid semi-conscience on the bed. Then he left. The next morning I woke up, filled with guilt and shame. I never told my girlfriend, or anyone for that matter, until now.
  
  One time I wasn’t raped, was during “welcome week” at Michigan State University. The entire point of “welcome week” was to get as drunk as possible and party all week before classes started. I remember going to a house party and getting so drunk that I passed out in a driveway. The next thing I remember was being lifted up and carried back to my dorm room by a boy I knew from high school. He got me safely home, tucked me into my bed, and that’s it. He didn’t rape me.
  
  Another time I wasn’t raped was at a fraternity party. I think it was one of those “progressive” drinking parties where the boys take the girls room by room thru the frat house to drink different drinks in each bedroom. I got to the point of falling down drunk, when one of the fraternity boys (whom I didn’t know) took me into his bedroom and put me to bed. He stayed in the room too, yet I slept there all night, untouched. I vividly remember walking back to my apartment the next morning thinking how lucky I was that he hadn’t raped me.
  
  I also wasn’t raped on my 21st birthday, even though I had done the traditional 21 shots to celebrate and spent the entire day and night in a bar. I was publicly intoxicated, surrounded by young men, yet not raped even once.
  
  I wasn’t raped at all the year I lived alone in Atlanta, Georgia. Even though I went out every weekend to dance and drink with girlfriends. Even though I spent countless evenings alone with my young, single, male boss who had also moved to Atlanta with the same ad agency. Never once did he do anything inappropriate. He’s a hero in my mind because he never raped me.
  
  I could go on, but I’m hoping you see my point. Not that binge drinking was a huge issue in my twenties, the other point…NOT ALL MEN RAPE. If I’m the same in each instance: female, drunk, unsupervised, in no state to consent to anything, then the guys are the variable. My being publicly intoxicated is not an open invitation to rape me. All men have impulse control. I’ll repeat that for those in the back: ALL MEN HAVE IMPULSE CONTROL. They make the choice to either rape us, or not to.
  
  Perhaps the choice to rape at all would be completely eliminated if penalties for rape were more stringent and unilaterally enforced in this country. Perhaps if young boys worried about going to jail or, say, losing a seat on the Supreme Court they wouldn’t consider rape an option at all.
  
  Special thanks to my neighbor and fellow school-mom Dr. Christine Blasey Ford for showing me that speaking out is always the right thing to do. Her example of courage will outlive all politicians and their agendas. She is a beacon of light that will burn for all future generations of women.
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  Posted in Equal Rights, feminism, misogyny, rape culture | 2 Comments | Tagged advice, ally, believe, feminism, misogyny, rape culture, Sex Education, Sexism
- I’m Gonna Fight. For My Right. To Paaaaaarrrrrrrty!
  
  Posted at 10:39 pm by kpodulka, on September 27, 2018
  If you think all a woman carries when she goes out for a night on the town is a cute handbag …think again. She also carries on her shoulders the following list of responsibilities the entire night. (And let me tell you, this shit is heavy!)
  
  Here’s hoping that one day, in the not too distant future, women of the world can go out and, oh, I don’t know, NOT worry about being attacked. Women can go to bars, dressed how they like, drinking as much as they like and simply have a carefree night. Party and not worry–image that. No, wait–CHEERS TO THAT!
  
  1. Don’t go out alone–have a buddy system–safety in numbers and all that good stuff.
  
  2. Carry mace or a rape-whistle or one of the hundreds of self-defense products sold to women.
  
  3. Don’t dress too skimpy or flashy or sophisticated or, or, I don’t know, I guess just not in any way that ‘asks’ to be attacked, you know? Use your best judgment on this one. But still look cute of course!
  
  4. Think twice about a ponytail (attackers can grab you by it)
  
  5. Think twice about high heels (harder to run from attacker)
  
  6. Tell someone where you going and what time you expect to be home so they know to check up on you (in case you get attacked). Or download one of these hand-dandy ‘Personal Safety’ apps before you leave for the night.
  
  7. Don’t accept drinks from strangers (may be roofied = attack) But also, don’t be rude if a guy wants to buy you a drink. I mean, DO NOT DRINK IT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, but just really try not to be rude either.
  
  8. If you’re really worried about being roofied, buy that lipstick, or nail polish, or straw-thingy which detects drugs before you drink anything. Fun new accessory, right gals?!?
  
  9. If you’re particularly worried, and need a way to ‘escape’ a situation, check the back of the stall doors in the girl’s bathroom–there’s usually a code word you can say to a female bartender to help you.
  
  10. Don’t drink too much. You’re more likely to get attacked if you’re drunk. Have fun! But you know, not too much fun.
  
  11. Think twice about calling an Uber or Lyft to get home (lots of those guys attack women). You’re basically getting into a stranger’s car, and we all know that’s a no-no.
  
  12. Don’t walk home from the bar alone, or with a stranger, or if you’re too drunk, or near an ally, but also don’t drive drunk, or go anywhere near your parked car at night because an attacker may be in your backseat waiting to pounce, or hiding under your car, or as soon as you hit ‘unlock’ on the doors an attacker will jump in the passenger seat, but also, don’t call an Uber (see #11)
  
  13. And GOD HELP YOU if you’re a college girl reading this…hopefully your University has ‘rape phones’, or ‘safe rides’ around campus like mine did. ‘Cause that definitely stops attacks. (It doesn’t)
  
  14. Oh, and a note on #1…it’s critical that you don’t separate from your buddy, like, at all during the night. I mean, of course go dance, and like I said, HAVE FUN, just keep an eagle eye on your friend the entire night. Maybe, like, watch how much she’s drinking, and who she’s talking to, and shit is she wearing heels?? And who bought her that drink?? You know what, just leave. Grab her and get outta there.
  
  Except, shit…how will you get home??
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  Posted in advice, Equal Rights, feminism, misogyny, rape culture | 0 Comments | Tagged feminism, rape culture, Sexism
- Peace Be With You
  
  Posted at 1:00 pm by kpodulka, on August 11, 2018
  We’ve lost the ability to be quiet. There’s noise everywhere. A constant hum of distraction. It’s more than just the sounds of traffic, pings from our devises, TVs in the background, radios in the car, undertones of conversations in restaurants…it’s literally a buzz in our brains. There’s no off-button for the constant barrage of information flung at us every moment of every day…no mute button, no silent mode. And it’s breaking us as humans. I dare say as a collective society the noise is making us overwhelmed, anxious and angry.
  
  Daydreaming has been replaced with brainstorming. To be caught daydreaming or “with your head in the clouds” is considered a waste of time. It’s no longer acceptable to let your mind wander just to see where it takes you. It must have a purpose, a problem that you’re solving, a new idea that you’re creating.
  
  A walk in nature is now for exercise. It’s to burn calories, get steps on a fitness tracker, hold a “walking-meeting” or “working-lunch”. It’s to train for a half-marathon. We wear headphones plugged into audio books, music, podcasts, or phone calls. No more walks alone just listening to the birds, wind, and trees.
  
  Alone time is considered selfish, lazy, or a luxury. We have to schedule time to relax, and make excuses to prove we’ve earned it–we have to be so totally burnt out and “in-desperate need” of quiet time that it’s acceptable.
  
  Vacations are either not taken, or as much work as normal life. Vacations are jammed-packed with activities, sightseeing, and tourist attractions. Plus most of us still check-in with the office from a so-called-vacation. Which, by definition, is work, not vacation.
  
  So here’s my idea: Let’s go on a quest for quiet…for true peace of mind…for slow, free-flowing thoughts with no agenda. No interruptions. No goals. Let’s wander thru the woods and listen. Let’s sit under a tree and watch the leaves sway. Let’s pick the blades of grass and feel them tickle our toes. Let’s contemplate, soul search, reflect. Let’s stare at the ocean and feel its rhythm in our blood. Lets turn off the TVs, devices, podcasts, music. Let’s hum to ourselves. Make our own music. Let’s listen to our breathing, close our eyes, and sink into ourselves. Let’s tap into our internal peace and quiet. Turn off our hamster-wheel brains. Make no excuses for our silence and solitude. Just be alone in our own skin. To do this is human. To deny this is to deny our own humanity.
  
  Peace out.
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  Posted in advice, life, self, soul, Work Life Balance | 1 Comment | Tagged advice, balance, believe, meditation, relax, soul
- Dear Lily & Kate
  
  Posted at 1:47 pm by kpodulka, on May 18, 2018
  Hello Girls,
  
  It’s me, your mama. It’s taken me almost 15 years to sit down and write to you both. I’m sorry it’s taken me this long. It’s not that I don’t think about you…I do. It’s just that for so many years when I did think about you, I got angry. Angry that you left me. I didn’t want to express that anger towards you, either of you, so I waited until I understood. Understood, that it wasn’t your fault–it was nobody’s fault. It was simply the way it was meant to be.
  
  Lily, we first met in 2003, but only spent 12 weeks together. I was so thrilled to welcome you into my life! My joy was like none I had ever felt. I was over the moon that you had arrived!! And so was your Dad. Though we kept your arrival a secret, we immediately began making plans for you…where you would stay, who we would visit, and everything we would teach you. I took such good care of you, do you remember that? I fed you and made sure you got plenty of rest. And we talked! We talked all day long, and we talked every night…our secret talks that no one else heard. We bonded instantly. I loved you instantly. We were always together–inseparable. Until we weren’t. That horrible, horrible day that I found out you had left. You really surprised me! I wasn’t expecting you to leave–ever. I didn’t believe it when the ultrasound technician told me that you were gone. Devastated isn’t a strong enough word. I was suddenly alone again. By myself. Empty. I couldn’t stop questioning why you would leave. Was it something I had done? Did I hurt you in some way? Was it my fault??? Oh Lily! I wish we would have had more time together. I wish I could have been your mama on this earth, to hold you and kiss you. But it’s OK my sweet girl, I’m no longer angry or alone. Because you are with me. You never left entirely. You still exist in my cells, my heart and my soul. I love you Lily and we will always be together.
  
  And Kate. My dear Kate. You came quickly and as such a surprise! I was so busy with your 1-year old brother Ryan, that I was caught completely off guard at your arrival! In fact, Ryan was the first person I told about you. I gleefully announced to him that he was going to be a big brother. I told your Dad that evening when he came home and our family of 3 cheered for you and loved you instantly. We lived in Amsterdam at the time, and I told all of my friends about you too. Everyone was so, so happy that you had joined us. You felt our love, didn’t you?? I gave you enough attention, right?? I know I didn’t give you as much rest as I could have, but life was so busy then. The day you left, I went numb. Ice ran thru my veins. I actually saw a picture of you, briefly, but it was only your body–your soul had already moved on. That’s the weird thing Kate, you left your body behind in my body. I kept wondering if you didn’t really mean to leave? If you were hanging on?? But it was me hanging on, wasn’t it? You knew you weren’t ready for this earth, but I couldn’t understand that. It took almost 2 more months for your body to leave mine. Excruciating isn’t a strong enough word. I did not want to let go. I fought so hard to keep you with me, but I know now that our time together was meant to be brief. It took me a very long time to get over losing you. Thankfully your brother, father and all our friends were there to help me. So Kate, thank you for our time together. Though fleeting, you live on in my mind, and in the minds of all who knew about you.
  
  This isn’t goodbye my loves. This is a hello. A hello from down here to you both up there. Though our time together as one body was brief, our souls are forever intertwined. Let’s keep having our secret conversations, OK? I love you both so much.
  
  Always,
  
  Your Mama
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  Posted in life, love, miscarriage, Parenting, soul | 9 Comments | Tagged advice, kids, love, miscarriage, Parenting, soul
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