I was visiting a friend’s blog this morning called Artmuse Dog. She was discussing learning from our traumas.
In early January 2010, I was assaulted by a customer in the store where my husband and I were working. I saw the boy come in and thought his greeting a bit odd (“hey, girlfriend”), but I tried to not think anything about it really because people were always calling me things like “dear”, “mama”, etc. It’s just the way they are around here.
I should have regarded more fully the initial twinges that I got from that greeting.
He did not rape me. I thank Heavenly Father for that. In some ways, I think what he ultimately did was worse (for me personally) than a ferocious physical attack. He attacked my security, my safety…my sanity.
I can’t remember enough about it to do anything about it, and couldn’t even in the immediate aftermath give a description of the boy, but I can’t forget it enough to forget it happened. And it has me trapped, looking over my shoulder, wondering “is that him?” every time I see someone who even remotely favors what I remember of him – short stature, thin, curly/wavy dark hair.