Week 1: Picking Straws
What a week, to say the least... in the span of 4 days, here's (some of) what went down:
- Went to Urgent Care and was diagnosed with an infection, and got prescribed antibiotics for said infection
- Had a severe reaction to said antibiotics (I won't disgust you with the details, but it was certainly a long 24 hours)
- Surprise... I didn't need the antibiotics after all! The test came back negative. Super.
Something else noteworthy happened today, but it seemed important enough to me that I didn't want to just add it to the bulleted list.
In one of my previous posts, I briefly described an experience I had with a gentleman following me at night, and almost successfully assaulting me before my (male) partner intervened.
I remember feeling very intimidated by this man under the cover of night. He had a bit of an odd look to him, but very distinctive... his black-with-white-trim hoodie is was still fresh in my mind.
So when I, standing at the intersection of State and Main, waiting to cross there, as I had been that same night, looked across the street to see that very same man standing on the far side of the street, I couldn't peel my eyes away.
I stood there, just staring for a while. I was taken aback by how unintimidating he seemed to me in the light of day, such a huge contrast from the memory I have of him from that night.
Part of me wanted to confront him. To march across the street to where he was and see how brave he felt in the middle of public, surrounded by people. To demand to know why he thought what he did was okay.
I didn't.
I don't know why, but I also don't feel like I made the wrong choice by not confronting him. A large part of me feels like even if I had, he wouldn't have heard me.
I watched as he moved out of view, walking almost suspiciously close behind a group of four women walking down the street towards Downhome Kitchen. I wondered how much of that strange closeness was imagined. I wondered if some wasn't.
And it made me think about why I'm doing this- any of this. This blog, these new personal and social choices I'm making... in the end, perhaps this is all just my method of taking all of this darkness that has invited itself into my life, and shedding the light of truth- my truth- onto these things.
I can't changed what has happened. There's only me, and my choices now- who I choose to be, and what I choose to allow, and not allow, in my life. I will make those, something to be proud of.
- Went to Urgent Care and was diagnosed with an infection, and got prescribed antibiotics for said infection
- Had a severe reaction to said antibiotics (I won't disgust you with the details, but it was certainly a long 24 hours)
- Surprise... I didn't need the antibiotics after all! The test came back negative. Super.
Something else noteworthy happened today, but it seemed important enough to me that I didn't want to just add it to the bulleted list.
In one of my previous posts, I briefly described an experience I had with a gentleman following me at night, and almost successfully assaulting me before my (male) partner intervened.
I remember feeling very intimidated by this man under the cover of night. He had a bit of an odd look to him, but very distinctive... his black-with-white-trim hoodie is was still fresh in my mind.
So when I, standing at the intersection of State and Main, waiting to cross there, as I had been that same night, looked across the street to see that very same man standing on the far side of the street, I couldn't peel my eyes away.
I stood there, just staring for a while. I was taken aback by how unintimidating he seemed to me in the light of day, such a huge contrast from the memory I have of him from that night.
Part of me wanted to confront him. To march across the street to where he was and see how brave he felt in the middle of public, surrounded by people. To demand to know why he thought what he did was okay.
I didn't.
I don't know why, but I also don't feel like I made the wrong choice by not confronting him. A large part of me feels like even if I had, he wouldn't have heard me.
I watched as he moved out of view, walking almost suspiciously close behind a group of four women walking down the street towards Downhome Kitchen. I wondered how much of that strange closeness was imagined. I wondered if some wasn't.
And it made me think about why I'm doing this- any of this. This blog, these new personal and social choices I'm making... in the end, perhaps this is all just my method of taking all of this darkness that has invited itself into my life, and shedding the light of truth- my truth- onto these things.
I can't changed what has happened. There's only me, and my choices now- who I choose to be, and what I choose to allow, and not allow, in my life. I will make those, something to be proud of.
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