Papi woke me up wayyyyyyyy before my time, excitedly chanting, "Baby! Get up! We're going to Seattle Pride!!"
I thought, perhaps this was a joke, but my love knows better than to wake me up for mischief.
My love prepped my coffee ...
... that was where the trouble started ...
and I did my best to get to 'pretty femme' in 20 minutes.
Needless to say, it was a hat day and I wore the clothes from the birthday party the night before. It was reminiscent of my drinking days where I'd be strolling around in yesterday's party dress, complete with skanky, buffalo breath and day old panties.
This time my teeth were brushed and I wore clean underwear.
Anyway, we fought on the way down, partially because my coffee wasn't doing it's job, my bitch of a back was screaming at me for sitting in a car first thing in the morning and my love hadn't slept from his graveyard shift.
No, it was not our finest moment, and we very rarely fight. Very, very rarely, which already made it an odd start to our day.
Eventually, the pain killers kicked in, the coffee did it's job and Papi took a clonazepam. Then we thought the fun would start.
We got to the parade and had the absolute best spot.
That was, of course, until the religious zealots came with their horrid signs and stood where we could see them. I couldn't handle it. It made me crazy that some dude thinks it's ok to spread hate, with a sign that has a picture of jesus skinned alive on a cross, in lifesize form.
That just doesn't say, 'come join our loving family' to me. However, that wasn't even the worst of it.
The worst of it was afterward, while we were enjoying our people watching at the festivities end, a man sat beside us and abused his dog.
Not being the type of folks to sit back and stay silent, we tried to tell him there were better ways to train your dog other than kicking and abusing it.
I tried to connect with the dog, but he wouldn't allow me to show it love. He pulled it away from me, however, I still had a moment to notice blood on it's left eyebrow.
I was almost sick.
We stood our ground while he threatened us for speaking out about his abuse, but were grateful when it seemed like he had left.
Wrong! Mentally ill abusers don't leave without the fight they came for.
He returned and got in Papi's face violently, and when I stood to put my body between him and my love, the women all around me shook their heads to say, "Please, don't engage. Please, don't do anything. Please, stay safe."
Fortunately, he exited again before I got pummeled, but he also left us with his energy. It took me so many breaths to calm from his abuse toward the dog and us.
I wanted so badly to save the dog, but also I wanted so badly to shove the tip of my boot into his groin, give a palm thrust to his chin and stab his eyes with my fingers.
We didn't have any positive experiences after that, especially when he wound up in our vicinity once more where we thought we'd be safe from him.
Both mi esposo and I were so scared for our lives that we had a tandem panic attack. We were also scared for the dog's life, but there was not much more we could do safely.
We left Seattle, silently.
We drove back to our home and since that moment, I've wished that there was a 'god' who would actually listen and help heal our damaged people and animals.
It's making me really feel that this world is no longer a place I want to be.
It's making me yearn for a planet where I can give love to animals, to people who need it and to have peace.
All I want is peace.
This agnostic, who verges on atheist, wishes there really was a 'god' to bring that, but alas, that 'god' still hasn't called on the phone to talk about all this.
I'm still waiting.
i will never stay silent. i will always stand up for those in need.