(no subject)

Favorite line on my lists today:

"One of the barrels was used for a red wine, and the red-soaked charred wood smelled sweet and complicated, like my life."

On this day, 20 years ago...

This morning at 2:45am, I was sleeping next to my beloved someotherguy. Exactly twenty years earlier, someone tried to kill me.

I have told this story before, and I usually don't cut and paste, because I believe the narrative changes as my life changes, and that's part of how the truth works. Today, though, I don't feel like talking about it in detail—I'm really a little bored by it—which is kind of odd for me, because in general, the story kind of fascinates me.

Obviously, I survived, and there are a lot more details at The Day I Saw God and Left the Church, an essay I did for an atheist newsletter, but of course, that's also only part of the story. I'm happy to answer any questions you have, and I always rush to let people know that it isn't upsetting for me to talk about, and never has been.

Now, while I would never wish an experience like this on someone, I have to say that I will always look at March 21, 1990 as a turning point for me—as the day on which my life began to go in an authentic direction. I had swallowed a lot of other people's ideas about love and morality and god and life, against my own inner stirrings, and I started to come out of that. I look at myself now, and I can honestly say I am living the life I want to be living, as myself, in person, for real.

I spoke to my mom about it today. Our consensus was that that night and the aftermath were harder on her than on me, just as her almost dying from cancer was harder on me and my aunt than it was on my mom. When it's happening to you (at least if you're me or my mom), you are just too busy dealing with your recovery and stuff to really be all that upset about it. Plus, in my case, unlike in many (sexual/violent) assault cases, it was always clear to me that it wasn't my fault, and no one made it worse by blaming the victim, so I had no self-blame to worry about. My mom, on the other hand, had a hard time not blaming herself for not protecting her child, as irrational as we both realize that is, so she went through horrible agony in the months and years that followed.

Anyway, I'm so glad to be alive, and to be in this beautiful, brilliant world. Thanks for being here with me.