 Hi, I'm Sandi Alnok and this video is a little bit different than my usual, okay, a lot. And it's the second iteration. The first one posted a few days earlier and was removed because it wasn't the right date for the blog hop. Oops. I have re-recorded this voiceover, though, due to some of the responses received from the viewings during those couple hours that the video was up. Heads up, this is not a tutorial and may be uncomfortable for some viewers. This project is for the Pretty Things blog hop, in which those of us who have survived traumas and the people who support us are posting beautiful things that they make despite painful things in their lives. It's important to recognize that art has the ability to heal us, whether slowly over decades or in an instant. Sometimes we're creating out of pain and ugliness, sometimes despite it, and other times out of the joy that we live with in between. Life as a survivor can be a roller coaster. Just because we've been hurt in our distant or recent past doesn't mean we're always consumed by what occurred, but sometimes we are affected by it. When I'm looking at or commenting on someone's art, I always consider that there might be some deep pain involved. I never know whether that piece was a triumph of the heart by that person, or if it silently proclaimed a scream of agony that is understood only by the artist. Many years ago, I realized others can be going through silent traumas that we can't see. On the day I had received some very tragic personal news, I had to go to the grocery store. When I got to the counter to pay, the chipper young lady at the counter happily said hello and asked how I was and wished me a fabulous day, and all I wanted to do was punch her in the throat and scream, Do you not realize my world just ended? We never know what someone else is going through, even if they look polished and pretty on the outside, especially when we're looking at someone's art. A supposedly tiny, critical comment that we feel the need to make about their sentiments stamped a little off kilter, mentioning mispronunciation or misspelling, or calling out a coloring mistake, we might think we're being helpful, but our tiny critique could be world shattering for them. I try to make it a habit to refrain from such things. On the anonymous internet, many people feel they're being helpful somehow, but I suggest that we set aside our desire to catch someone in an error and instead exercise extra kindness toward those who generously share their creations with us. One of my stories of trauma happened decades ago. I was sexually assaulted by a college boy, wealthy, an athlete. He had had several beers and I had had one. I found myself trapped in a room with him. When the boy was finished, he said not to dare tell anyone because no one would believe that someone like him would ever touch someone as ugly as me. I was frightened and mad and I didn't want to let him intimidate me into silence, so I told my best friend what happened. Her response showed me that most of the world doesn't really want to hear a survivor's story because she told me he was too cute to rape anyone and that I should consider myself lucky. If my best friend didn't believe me, I knew no one else would care either, so I never reported it. Never told anyone until very recently while I was preparing this video. I've kept tabs on him. I want to know where he is so I can stay far away. He's on the other side of the country. He's a husband, a father of three teenagers. He's an elder in his church and a girl's basketball coach. He's a respected pediatrician, well known in his field. Here's where I want to clarify what I had said in that first iteration of this video. I have no information that he's harming any of the children under his care. I have no information that he's not. I just don't know. Nor do I sit around thinking about him or what he did or wishing him ill. Periodically I'm reminded of what he said to me, especially when I'm creating and I find something that I've made to be frankly ugly. That word, despite my desire to purge it from my vocabulary, is deep inside of me because of him, because of what he said to me that night. Every four or five years that reminder gets me to check on him to be sure I'm still aware of where he is, but for nothing other than self-protection. I have no plans to press charges, even though there's no statute of limitations stopping me. Why? Because the last few months have shown me what that might look like. I've watched survivors come forward bravely, only to be attacked, dragged through the mud, lose their jobs, have to move out of their homes, they've been scorched by public figures, their reputations lit on fire, and I've even heard close friends speak these same things about survivors. People in my otherwise loving church family have done so, expressing disbelief that someone who grew up to be a Christian person of integrity could ever have sinned terribly in their past. Yes, there is forgiveness, but that doesn't mean the pain is gone for those who have been harmed. All of us, every single one of us, have left damaged people in our wake in getting to where we are now. Myself, most of all. And for any of us to completely disavow that those pains were ever caused and that victims should just get over it somehow, well I don't find that to be particularly compassionate or helpful to those who are in pain. I know that people aren't saying these things about me when they speak ill of other survivors, but it sure feels like they could be. I've cried myself to sleep too many nights in the last few months as this particular incident came roaring back, similarities to current events being unavoidable. Knowing that people that I care for and interact with regularly would possibly say the very same things of me if I was ever courageous enough to tell them my story. To my fellow survivors, I tell you part of my story here in the intimate setting of 90,000 of my closest YouTube friends so you know you're not alone. I encourage you to tell someone if you have someone safe to talk to. There are some hotlines listed in the description and if you don't feel comfortable reaching out to someone that way, I've created an email address that you can send your story to. Let me at tellyoumystory.com. You can expect an automated reply from me with some encouragement for you, but probably not a personal reply as I'm not a counselor and I don't pretend to be one, not even here on YouTube. To those lucky enough not to have to call yourself survivors, I'm very happy for you. Your job here is to become the safe place for survivors in your life to be able to share their story knowing that they won't be judged by you. The person who needs you most could be very close to you, a parent, a child, a sibling, a friend, or even a spouse. It may be the person you think is strongest or the person sitting across the holiday dinner table from you or watching a post shared on your social media pronouncing judgment on a survivor in the news. Even if you're certain that survivor is lying, someone you love the most might need to see your non-judgmental side because they need your support desperately. Thanks so much for sticking with me through this video. I've turned off comments as I'm not sure I can deal with YouTube trolls, but my subscribers know where to find me and the blog hop. Keyword? Doobly-doo. Let's all go out and show a little kindness. You never know who's going to need your love the most.