This was supposed to be a joyful post

Instead, it's turned into an angry (but brief) rant.

I had to drop some stuff off on Connecticut Avenue tonight. Conn. Ave gets incredibly crowded on a nice Friday night...people cruising, lots of pretty boys enjoying the night air and all that. Plus lots of traffic since it's a good way to get to some of the neat places to go. And on Connecticut Avenue, right near one of my favorite bookstore/cafes, is a little liquor store. I've never been in that one...I like the one on the other side of DuPont, on 17th Street better. But I was stuck, in traffic, looking around, remembering how the Riggs bank building used to have the Burrito Brothers in it, and a cool little coffee place, looking at the windows of the bead store, and so on.

And I saw him.


Him?

Yes. Him. The guy who raped me, when I was 19. I knew he was around, I had seen him once before, about a year ago. But I hadn't seen him since...and I suppose it's inevitable that sometimes, I'll see him. He didn't see me...I was in the car.

Last time I saw him, I broke down and cried. And panicked. And cried some more. Rendered myself effectively non-functional for the next couple of days. And part of me still desires to do that. I'm not going to. I can't; don't have that option, need to be at work tomorrow morning. But part of me wants to.


I'm angry...angry at him for what he did, still. Angry at myself for only being able to let go so much...I've come a long way, and I know that. But I know there are pieces of me that I will never, ever get back. No matter how hard I try, no matter what I do, there are things that are irreversably changed. And I realize that what this person did to me influences my worldview, how I feel about things, perception and perspectives. And fears.

I want to be whole again. I want to not jump at things. I want to enjoy the spaces and places that I used to, without wondering if I'm going to run into him. I'm afraid of how I would react...would I want to confront, would I want to hide, would I be able to ignore him? He haunts me sometimes...and sometime I forget he exists in the same city, so close by. I hope my path never actively crosses his...that every time I do see him I'll be protected. I don't want to run anymore. I promised to stop doing that. I'm not afraid of him anymore. He can't hurt me unless I let him. Now it's just me letting what he did hurt me...and I've made peace with some of it. But there are chunks of my life that I can't get back. There are relationships irretrevably scarred from what happened.

I know, from what happened, that I'm incredibly strong. That I am a survivor...because I could have let what happened take over my life, my consciousness and my being. It hasn't. I'm still a strong person, surrounded by love, accomplishing great things. I'm proud of me. I wish I could let go of some of the anger. I want to let it go...see it drift away like a balloon does when it's caught by the wind. And slowly, bit by bit it is. I don't want to let go of all of it. I need that feeling, that fire, that inspiration. Keeping some of it is important.

I learned the hardest lesson of all. It's not my fault what happened. I couldn't control it. I can control how I respond, how I integrate that part of my life into the rest of my being, and let it strengthen me. I can grow from a terrible experience, and feel the power it brings me. I am strong. I am powerful. I am here to stay, and to do good things. Boom.

(I thought about making this friends only. I decided against it...I figured if I needed to write it, there's a pretty good chance that someone else needs to read it. I can't guarantee that it makes much sense though. That said, feel free to point people to it, or to pass it on, whole or in part, but please let me know you are, and give an appropriate attribution. In other words, put my real name on it. If you don't know my real name, e-mail, and I'll share it.)

A gay man, a lesbian and a bisexual are in a car....

Not a bad joke. Promise.

My office is incredibly social...especially on Fridays. Usually that means an extended lunch out of the office. Yesterday we managed to drag out nine people out of the 14 who work here (not everyone was in...ten people were in the office.)

We got into a conversation about markers for sexual orientation...can you tell someone is queer or not. A. was wondering how I could just know he was gay the first time I met him. I didn't have a good answer; I just knew. L. asked if I knew about her...I told her she was more confusing. But then, I met her partner when I had a third interview here...it was the day before Thanksgiving and she mentioned that they were going up to see her parents. Together. And I think it sort of hit me and then blew by. I think it amused them that I could tell about them, and they just figured I was some alternachick and not a freakybisexualgirl.

We're a great diverse group...in many ways. Age....22 to 37. Racially...1 African, 3 African-americans, 6 white, 65 Hispanic/Latino(a), sexual orientation...half queer, half not, and a good gender mix as well...more women than men, but that's typical in most social service systems.

So what we ended up talking about...was how lucky we are to be able to be as out as we are. We work in an incredibly safe environment, where there isn't anyone in the closet, even if there are varying degrees of outness. And how it's not given a second thought to be out here. A. talked about how his partner went through a lot deciding whether or not to come out at work, and how out to be and so on.

So I'm wondering, why it took so darn long for me to feel like I could put my rainbow and leather stickers on my car. What issue did I have that held me back? I'm out, and it's integrated into my life..it's not the be all and end all of what I'm doing...which is so wonderful. It's just sort of there, but I'm vocal about it when I need to. I feel like I'm becoming a whole-er person. I just don't know what the me I'm going to turn up with is going to be like.