Tuesday, February 9, 2016

V-Day Gratitude

The first time I ever met my friend Sherry, she looked at me and asked pointedly, “When are you going to talk about it?”

My heart hit my stomach, a bass drum booming loudly there in my gut, even as I gave her the confused what-are-you-talking-about look. 

She gave me the Sherry-side eye (patent pending) and just answered,”Un huh.”

But it was clear to me that she knew.  SHE KNEW!  That deepest ugliest thing I had buried beyond reach.  But how?  Just how? 

She would share her story.  In response, my own would tumble out and that is how it would begin. 
I would ask her later how she knew that first day.  She would shrug and say, “You can read it on their faces.”  I grilled her and she came to the conclusion that it’s an energy that people carry around, an energy that other survivors respond to and recognize.   I noticed how many women were drawn to her, how many she coaxed to share their secrets and I pondered if she could see it on my face, might someone else, someone less well-intentioned also be able to read it? 

Was that energy signature a magnet to abusers?  Did that explain why they always knew who to choose?  Did my rapist choose me because of that signature?  More importantly – how might I get rid of that energy stamp?

That question would occupy my life for the next twenty years, would brutalize me as I pushed through boundary after boundary.  But today, looking back, I see how far I have come.  I am proud of that journey - every motherfucking step of it.  And I am grateful to Sherry for seeing through me to the truth and helping me begin.  

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