On finding my choice.

Writers and songwriters talk about finding their voices all the time. After a visit with Maharishi Mahesh Yogi or a life-changing personal experience, many have identified being able to give words or music to feelings previously impossible to express. Well, I am not a writer or a musician, but over the past few weeks, I think that it’s safe to say that I found not my voice, but my choice.

A few years ago, I was date-raped by a friend and boy I liked. Immediately following it, I couldn’t really identify what happened, but I pulled away from him because I knew something wasn’t right about it. About two months after it happened, I had lost 5 or 6 pounds and was not sleeping right. I was able to pinpoint that night as the cause, but it didn’t do me much good. Six months after the rape, I’d lost between 15 and 20 pounds (a lot for someone who never cleared 130), and I wasn’t okay, at all. I ultimately confronted him, but being too uncomfortable to call it “rape,” I just let him know that “it” affected me. I didn’t ask him for anything, just to listen, and simply told him how the imposition of his will affected me.

Years on, I still get emails from him, bragging about his accomplishments and wishing me happy holidays. I tense up when I get these emails. It’s a reminder that he doesn’t realize the lasting effect he had on me. It’s also a reminder - these self-promoting blasts - of how he so confidently pushed only his agenda and his will, without regard to my own. Every self-congratulatory email is a reminder of his ability to disregard others for his own self-important desires.

Two months ago, I had my corporate AMEX and driver’s license stolen from me in Bushwick, by someone who I’d just met. He found my email through this blog, and tried to play hero, offering my license if I could go pick it up. He was a kid - maybe 20 or 22 - but I didn’t feel right. I felt violated, and made to play the fool by his false kindness. Having his name, I located him online and found that his partner in crime works at Uniqlo. I’ve been shopping in Uniqlo four or five times since the incident, but haven’t run into him.

Last week, I got an email from the man who violated me, bragging about his being published in a national literary and culture magazine. When my throat clenched and muscles tensed as it came in, I made the decision to address the issue. I found my choice. I wrote to him and congratulated his accomplishment, and politely asked that he take me off his mailing list. I explained that his self-promotion was, to me, inextricable from his self-serving violation of my pleas to stop years ago. I told him that I wouldn’t discuss the matter with his friends or peers, and I let him off the hook from even replying to my email, but said I would read a reply if he wanted to send one. I didn’t hear back from him. I found my choice, and I made it. I shook for hours, but I feel good. Still no word from him.

In Uniqlo this past weekend, I found myself seeking another choice. Walking through the store and standing in a serpentine line, I was searching employees who passed by for the face of my more recent attacker. I wanted to approach him and ask him how far he got with the $50 MetroCard and bottle of tequila that he bought on my company’s AMEX. I wanted to let him know that I was in the store - a regular customer - and could take the issue beyond us and beyond Bushwick. I didn’t find him, but I did find my choice.

I’m not afraid of choosing to treat myself right. I was for a long time. I read those emails for four years, and I thanked my accuser for “finding” my license. But I’m worth more than a stolen AMEX, and I’m worth more than a lost 20 pounds. I found my choice and I hope that I can keep finding the right choices to keep myself feeling proud.