I returned to the street where he attacked me

Dear Delyara, For four years, I avoided the street where I was assaulted. I changed jobs, took longer routes, and declined invitations near that neighborhood. In therapy, we worked slowly with maps, photographs, and imagined walks before attempting the real one. Today, my therapist and sister accompanied me. I carried a small stone in my pocket and repeated the date, my age, and the fact that the man was no longer there. Halfway down the street, my knees began shaking. I wanted to turn back, but I stopped beside the doorway where it happened and looked at it directly. The paint had changed. A bicycle was chained nearby. Someone had placed a potted plant in the window. The street had continued existing without preserving the worst night of my life as its only meaning. I placed the stone near a tree and walked to the end. I did not feel fearless or forgiven. I felt tired and present. Healing was not reclaiming the street as though nothing happened. It was allowing my body to learn that I could stand there now and still belong entirely to myself.