61
" You had an image of life inside you, a belief or an ideal, that you were ready to do good deeds, to suffer, and to sacrifice – and by degrees you noticed that the world had no need of your good deeds, or sacrifices, and such like; that life was not an heroic tale, with roles for heroes, and such like, but a comfortable bourgeois parlour, where one is perfectly satisfied with eating and drinking, coffee and knitted stockings, tarot readings and music on the radio. And he who wants otherwise and has the heroic and the beautiful inside him, the veneration of great poets or the adoration of saints inside him, he is a fool and a knight errant, a latter day Don Quixote? "
― Hermann Hesse , Steppenwolf
63
" If you can kill it in the bedroom, chances are you can kill it in the kitchen, too—and studies have shown that men who help out more with the chores have more sex with their wives (really!). We know, gender roles run deep, which is why women in hetero relationships still end up doing the vast majority of the domestic work despite being the breadwinners in two-thirds of American homes, leaving them burned out, resentful, and, nope, not really in the mood. But it doesn’t have to be this way—and, in fact, we might want to borrow a page from our LGBTQ sisters and brothers (or those who identify as neither): research shows they split chores, decisions, and finances more evenly "
― Jessica Bennett , Feminist Fight Club: An Office Survival Manual for a Sexist Workplace
71
" There are people we meet who have but little roles to play in our lives, who happen to be no more than a special appearance to our story.
People, who influence, who possess the drift, the force whose implication leads us forward in our course of life. We might have never come across them until today and probably not hear from them tomorrow or ever after, for all that exists is this moment, a moment enough for them to fulfil their purpose that being to help us find our way and enough for us to fulfil ours that being to actually find it, reach it, accomplish it.
They are the ones who bring meaning to our lives, who happen to inspire, who spark a fire that we carry with us for the rest of our days, who are but pillars of hope and sometimes sacrifice, life-changers, life-savers, catalysts. "
― Chirag Tulsiani
74
" While in principle groups for survivors are a good idea, in practice it soon becomes apparent that to organize a successful group is no simple matter. Groups that start out with hope and promise can dissolve acrimoniously, causing pain and disappointment to all involved. The destructive potential of groups is equal to their therapeutic promise. The role of the group leader carries with it a risk of the irresponsible exercise of authority.
Conflicts that erupt among group members can all too easily re-create the dynamics of the traumatic event, with group members assuming the roles of perpetrator, accomplice, bystander, victim, and rescuer. Such conflicts can be hurtful to individual participants and can lead to the group’s demise. In order to be successful, a group must have a clear and focused understanding of its therapeutic task and a structure that protects all participants adequately against the dangers of traumatic reenactment. Though groups may vary widely in composition and structure, these basic conditions must be fulfilled without exception.
Commonality with other people carries with it all the meanings of the word common. It means belonging to a society, having a public role, being part of that which is universal. It means having a feeling of familiarity, of being known, of communion. It means taking part in the customary, the commonplace, the ordinary, and the everyday. It also carries with it a feeling of smallness, or insignificance, a sense that one’s own troubles are ‘as a drop of rain in the sea.’ The survivor who has achieved commonality with others can rest from her labors. Her recovery is accomplished; all that remains before her is her life. "
― Judith Lewis Herman , Trauma and Recovery: The Aftermath of Violence - From Domestic Abuse to Political Terror
76
" Lily?”
She couldn’t see his face, but she knew his eyes were on her. She could feel them.
A beat passed. Then another. He flicked the flashlight on, his eyes zooming in on her mouth. “Don’t suppose you’re scared enough of the dark to leave.”
She shook her head. “I don’t suppose you’re planning on leaving me on my own.”
A smile, then, “You might cheat.” He tugged their linked hands and leaned the slightest bit closer.
“True,” she breathed, mirroring his movement. “I wouldn’t trust you if our roles were reversed.” Inches from his face, she admired the curve of his top lip. “What are you doing, Black?”
“I think,” he whispered back, his warm breath fanning over her lips, “I’m going to have to kiss you, McIntire. "
― Jessica Lemmon , If You Dare
77
" Lily?”She couldn’t see his face, but she knew his eyes were on her. She could feel them. A beat passed. Then another. He flicked the flashlight on, his eyes zooming in on her mouth. “Don’t suppose you’re scared enough of the dark to leave.” She shook her head. “I don’t suppose you’re planning on leaving me on my own.” A smile, then, “You might cheat.” He tugged their linked hands and leaned the slightest bit closer. “True,” she breathed, mirroring his movement. “I wouldn’t trust you if our roles were reversed.” Inches from his face, she admired the curve of his top lip. “What are you doing, Black?” “I think,” he whispered back, his warm breath fanning over her lips, “I’m going to have to kiss you, McIntire. "