Monday, April 16, 2007

Defining moments

Each of us has a moment, or even moments, in our lives that define who we are and sometimes change who we are. Mine are normal, like getting married, and having babies.

I feel so sad, so unbelievably sad, for those who's defining moments are painful. They are the moments that you have to tell strangers before they can become your friends, that you have to relive each time you tell them. Those are moments that keep you distant from others, who might become your friends, just so you can avoid the pain, but really just prolonging the pain and isolation.

Recently, a woman in our community was attacked. Like the kind of attack that will make you scared to do normal things, like, oh, I don't know, LIVE. She was so unbelievably strong, as she was left for dead, but survived, and I feel she will be instrumental in finding this creature that has hurt her and others before her. I admire her so much, I admire her will to live. But, I worry about her life after the news goes away, and the physical scars heal, and friends either decide to stick by her side or are too horrified and scared to stay her friend.

I am so sad, that before she can marry someone, she'll have to relive this moment, and worry whether the man will stay or go. I am so sad, that she will have to tell her children, when they are old enough. I am so sad, that she will have to return to the scene of the crime, choosing whether she will stay or pack up and find a new place to live. I am so sad that she will have to return to her job and suffer through the well meaning looks and questions, and that people will be nervous to speak to her.

I don't pity her. She doesn't deserve my pity - she's a far stronger woman than I. I just feel sad that her life has changed, not by any choices that she made, and that she will never be the same again. My life has only changed because of choices that I made, and I am only happy to share the memories I have of those life-changing moments. I hate that everyone is not as lucky as I am.

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