Not all forgetting is bad

I was raped on June 16, 2009. I was beaten, choked, held against my will for two hours, and during that time sexually assaulted. It was horrific.

I’ve written about this online before, starting right happened and then through the investigative process and recovery. It was pretty awful. The entire month of June would be ruined, every year, for quite a few years. And even after the horror of it started to fade, it would still hit me sometimes. A scene in a movie. A face in a crowd. And then the whole experience would slam into me.

After the man who did it was deported to Sudan and the story finally felt over, things improved. I stopped thinking about it so much.

And the other day, I was looking at the calendar, and suddenly thought, “The anniversary of the attack. I missed it. I forgot. Cool.”

Three cheers to forgetting.