Help Me Pull The Trigger

It’s been a long time since I’ve been truly triggered.

Maybe I got a little arrogant about what I can handle. When you spend the better part of three years writing about sexual assault—your own, others, and those who commit them—you form a two way mirror between your feelings and the subject matter. I pride myself on my ability to remain rational about something that is so irrational. It becomes easy to express passionate rejection of the way people who have been sexually assaulted are treated, while emotionally blocking the unfounded opinions of rape apologists. It is a strong wall, the one between you and wearisome arguments, but there are weaknesses. Sometimes, you know what they are, sometimes you don’t. Sometimes, they change before you have the chance to reinforce them.

The triggers. They live to catch you unaware.

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