tw: assault. plus the power of imperfect advice

people say wild sh*t

square one.

But there's one thing that you never get / A grip on life's sweet alphabet. — Everything but the Girl

I can still hear the dude’s footsteps rushing up behind me. So quick, and implausible. This was up the hill from Oakland’s Lake Merritt. I was just off the bus from work. He caught me from behind, and dragged me into a nearby bank of ivy. With the heel of his hand on my throat: I’m not going to hurt you! Relax. You coming with me. He tied my wrists behind my back, But whatever he used was too thick to truly bind me. Then he tried to force me into a car. I thought, if he gets me in this car, I am dead. I did also think: he needs deodorant. He sounds desperate. 

To say, “I fought,” says everything and nothing. We fought adds grimy detail. I had a violent childhood, and lessons learned from it include how to make concrete decisions when one’s body is at risk, the ability to attach action to those decisions, and how to maintain detachment and focus, concurrently. All of it was called into service.