After That Assault, Things Got Messy – Part 11 (My Imploding… Oh, And I Still Apologize One More Time)

Thursday, November 17th, 2016

Picking up from yesterday –

I left New York for a couple of weeks after that. The Nightly Show had been cancelled… And I went away…

I was really pretty depressed in the weeks after that happened (even though I hate the word “depressed”).

Granted, also the best job I’d ever had had just ended. So, it’s not like it was all sexual assault guy… But I think it was mainly him…

I just… I kept thinking that this whole saga was going to end a different way. I certainly never expected that.

And I was sad.

I was sad that I’d always kind of half-counted on – this whole time – that he would be the one to give me back the piece of me he took. I wondered, “How will I get it back now without him giving it to me? Will I ever, ever get that piece of me back?”

“Will the nightmares ever stop 100%? Will I ever be 100% normal again?”

This whole time I’d been running after “closure,” and I technically kind of finally got it… But it never really feel like a resolution – since the pendulum just kept swinging. He’d be perfect one minute – telling other people how wonderful I was, and even pretty pretty nice to me when we were alone, and then I’d blink and he’d say something so gross and awful and manipulative to me… I still couldn’t completely get a handle on who the “real” him was, or what he actually thought about me, in the slingshot of compliments and tear-downs.

I’d felt like I’d been holding my breath for months. I’d been escaping New York every chance I got, waiting for the day things would return to “normal.” I’d also been pretty much avoiding the musical theater scene (for the most part).

After all, that’s how I knew this guy… So, I removed myself from the whole thing for a while. That just seemed easiest.

In fact, soon after this whole thing came tumbling down, I had to tell BMI whether I was coming back of not.

If you’re unfamiliar with my blog, BMI is this prestigious musical theater school program I’ve talked about a lot) that I was doing… I ended up deferring the program in March of 2016, and they offered me re-entrance for either 2016 or 2017 – whatever I thought would work better…

I’d already said I was coming back for fall of 2016. I wanted to come back. I didn’t want to waste time. BMI hadn’t gone all that well for me the first time, so I was afraid to go back, sure. But I was also excited. I needed to do it…

And then this happened… And I felt, for numerous reasons (that I can’t 100% get into, in this public space), that I was not ready, after this, to dive back into that musical theater world…. So, I asked if it was too late to change my mind.

Thankfully, it was not. Even if that decision tore my heart in two…

Everything for me got worse, not better, after, “I knew you didn’t want to, but you needed to.” It was almost like being assaulted all over again. And I just didn’t feel I could handle living in the musical theater world when the man who did this came from the musical theater world.

It was hard enough to stay in New York, let alone doing musical stuff every week. I would love to say I could’ve done it… I wish I could’ve done it… I feel weak for admitting that I didn’t think I could, and that I chose to take another year off…

But I could argue it was technically kind of strong-ish to do what I thought I needed to give me the best chance of success later… I guess… I don’t know.

Anyway, I hate to admit it, but I didn’t feel I could successfully go back at the time. So, I let BMI (my dream) go for yet another year.

Anyway, getting back to where we were, after TNS ended, I headed home for a bit. In every trip I’d had to LA before that happened, I tried to fill it with stuff! I’d see as many friends as I could, perform at Flapper’s every time I got the chance, take meetings and do touristy things.

Of course I still cried sometimes (because my life became a life of crying sometimes), but I cried generally way less in LA than I did in New York… And I was definitely go-go-go every time I was out there.

Until this time. I chose not to do a set at Flapper’s. I didn’t see nearly all of my friends (and the ones I did see, I was a little more distant – even than my sometimes now distant self). I mainly spent the week on the couch with pizza. (Oh yeah. That’s right. Me… and pizza. That’s how you know it was bad. Running all the time would’ve been normal. Stuffing my face with pizza on the couch was not…)

(And I kind of used The Nightly Show as a well-timed excuse… Of course I was sad about that, but it wasn’t ripping me apart like this was.)

I was so sad and so practically immobile – having my butt print basically emblazoned on that couch – that I even did one extra final last apology through text some days later.

While I was still furious, I was still trying to act like it was weird to be mad, and trying to minimize what he said…

After all, he was “being so sweet.” …Like, his words were terrible, but he was “being nice.” I mean, he almost cried! He teared up as he told me how hard it was for him, since I’m soooo different.

Shouldn’t I care about his point of view? Shouldn’t I try to see both sides and think empathetically – I ask in a for the most part sarcastic tone, half rolling my eyes now, because really, I probably shouldn’t have had to do that when someone admits to assault…

But for some reason I did. Because even to the bitter end – even after he said that thing – I kept trying to treat it like a normal relationship spat or misunderstanding… I kept trying to semantics him out of saying something so terrible. “I mean… maybe he didn’t meeeean it, right? Right? Of course that’s not right!” My goodness. Did the past 7 or so months teach me nothing?

But the point is, even after I actually had time to think about it, and to think about how obviously gross his sentence is, I still just desperately wanted things to work, because the empty feeling I felt eating that pizza on the couch was awful, and I wanted it to go away…

So, to the bitter, bitter end, I thought, “Maybe if I’m good enough – maybe if I apologize – all of this will be fixed and go away…

(And I feel gross about that, and take some responsibility for excusing something that shouldn’t be excused… I do feel really bad about it…)

And this is where I’ll pick up tomorrow.

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