As much as it irritates me to have to do so, I take precautions when I go out in public. I don't walk alone unless I am in a well-traveled area (a designation I sort of arbitrarily set as having at least 10 other people within sight). I don't walk at night. When I do venture out alone, I try to look as inconspicuous as possible. I started taking these measured precautions after my rape three years ago.
It's been a weird week for me—painful, confusing, stressful. I've had to deal with a lot of questions I never thought I'd have to ask or answer. I've had to deal with a lot of awkwardness from other people that I didn't realize I would be so bothered by.
Even Trump's most trusted advisers didn't expect him to fare this well.
When I was 20 I found myself in an abusive relationship – but if you'd have asked me before I met him if I'd ever be with someone who made me feel less than respected, I would have given you a resounding "No."
I realized I was a writer long before I was raped. Both conclusions have had comparable impact on the trajectory of my career. As a disillusioned adolescent desperate for guiding words to live by, I found solace in a self-help tip from a fortune cookie: “If you’re feeling down, try throwing yourself into your work.” I obeyed for as long as I could.
It was around my last birthday when I finally acknowledged I needed a little help.
I was raised Christian. My parents weren’t religious, and they’re still not, but they wanted good things for us, and this included feeling like a part of something bigger. Plus, a requirement for getting into the best schools in the area was immaculate church attendance.
Like many women in touch with modern technology, I spend a lot of time dicking around on the Internet, delighting myself with videos of cats falling off things and filling in answers on clickbait tests to discover the innermost workings of my psyche.
I used to think marriage was forever. I know people get divorced. The rate’s at like 50 percent now, but same as most people who take the plunge, I thought I’d be married longer than 28 months. Just sayin’.