Sunday, October 7, 2012

You Can Go Home, But You'll Sometimes Find Assholes There

Went back to my Alma Mater for homecoming yesterday.  It's been 9 years since I graduated, leaving behind the tiny college I called home for four years. Four long years of debates in the class room, thousands of hours procrastinating writing papers, and scrubbing toilets to pay for my tuition.


Got all dolled up in my Red Dress of Courage.  It has been 8 years since I saw many of these people, almost 7 years since I gave birth to my son.  I needed something to make me feel wonderful, proud of myself, and all the achievements I have made in the last 9 years of my life.  

Was asked by a former classmate if I enjoyed being raped. 

Was too shocked to come up with a good reply, but wish I had retorted, "Of course, why do you think I'm dressed like this?"

I noticed many nasty glances and pointed fingers but didn't care.  Was ignored by people who were my friends when I was engaged but who didn't even bother to call when my fiancee left me at the alter.

I went for me.  I went to prove that I could go back there and not be ashamed of who I am, of the path my life has taken.  I'm not ashamed of my blue hair, of my views on the world, of the fact that I write openly about my rape, struggles with depression and anxiety, or the fears that run around my head.

I went because I am so my bigger than all the nonsense that use to keep me down.

And for all that I say with a smile on my face, I might not be the best Catholic out there, but at least I'm not a hypocrite.  And I can live and strive to do better than that.