About two months ago, a man attacked me on my street. I was walking home from dinner on a Tuesday night. The street lights were bright, as was my mood. I remember feeling particularly good about life. And then he approached me from behind, grabbed me (not my purse), and turned my world upside down. Three days after The Incident, bolstered by incredible support from friends, family and coworkers, I was in therapy. Not the scary kind, but the comforting you-should-get-this-out-before-it-scars-you kind. I couldn't stand the idea that this one person had instantly changed my character--that he had made me reconsider my notions of humanity and respect. Before The Incident, I was a person that loved someone before I met them; the girl who smiles and says hello to strangers on the street. All of the sudden, I couldn't bear sunlight on my own. Walking from my front door to my car--a mere 100 yards away--was a journey of epic proportions, eac...
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