I went to a dear friend’s wedding reception on Saturday. The happy couple were radiant and I had a fun time, but I had sort of a revelation. Maybe revelation isn’t the right word, but I finally realized that there are definitely some lingering scars stemming from my sexual assault almost two years ago.
I’ve never been a touchy-feely person, literally and figuratively. In this case, I felt completely overwhelmed with fear when it came to dancing. Some of it was just that I’m self-conscious, but some of it definitely had roots in those dark memories. I finally managed to override my fear, but I also felt compelled to explain to people why I had hesitated, but I stopped short of doing that because it’s sort of a fun-killer.
In the days since the wedding, I’ve been fretting off and on about what this means for my future. If I’m too scared to reach out and begin a relationship, then that means that I will be alone, which is not something I want. It’s ironic that I’m hesitating on putting myself out there, considering that I’ve done lots of things in the past several years that I never would have imagined doing, beginning with those first steps towards conversion. I’ve put myself in vulnerable positions and shared some deeply personal things, but I can’t seem to direct that momentum towards relationships.
On a slightly related note, I have developed a crush and it’s been a while since that’s happened. It doesn’t get any easier with age, disappointingly.