Sunday, Jul. 27, 2003 - 9:10 p.m.
Baby Steps

I’m seeming to need to take baby-steps back into this milieu of online journaling. But it feels right.

It was horrible. I was attacked June 19th in my apartment by a guy I’d met the first time the night before for a casual sexual encounter. It was a completely unprovoked assault, and he obviously intended to kill me.

But here I am. And there he is—about to be charged with the crime.

I don’t want to say much more than that yet, both because it’s painful to write about and because the case will be proceeding through the criminal justice system.

I’m alive for a reason. I don’t think I realized how beautiful my life was until it was almost taken. I’ve got scars, inside and out, but I’ve never felt so open-hearted and grateful for the people around me and the little daily things that speak so much more deeply to me now.

I’m often freaked out being alone since this happened, especially at night. (I moved out of that apartment after the assault, and am now in a great new pad.) I finally caved in the other night and decided to leave the bathroom light on because I get so anxious in total darkness. Then I bought a very gay little nightlight for my room: most festive. I’ve got a lot to deal with right now, and if a little nightlight is going to make those falling-asleep minutes a little less anxious, it’s an easy thing to do.

Conversely, I’ve never felt less alone in my life. I mean that interpersonally, and also spiritually. There’s nothing quite like scream-pleading with God to let you live, while a deranged man is stabbing you repeatedly, for a major reappraisal of the power of prayer.

So here I am, gradually reclaiming words—prayerful angry mournful joyous words—as the way to be. As the way home.