Footnote.

Whitney says, "I just spent somewhere between an hour and an hour and a half writing down as much as exists of what happened when I was sexually assaulted. This left me in a . . . rather strange mental state."
Whitney says, "I went to shower and had an impulse, and did the ritual purification part of my religious rituals. Normally when I do ritual purification, it's semi-symbolic -- I take the purifying tools and wash my mouth, and dump the rest on my head."
Whitney says, "I washed every inch of my skin. Between my toes. Behind my ears. My back. Every inch of it."
Whitney says, "I feel much better now."

I've written the commentary on the no-pity post, in other words. I may post it later. When I've decided what to do with it.

But I've washed away the isfet that came out and coated me while writing it. Scrubbed it away. I'm not sure where the impulse came from -- I'm not clean for ritual at the moment -- but . . .

I am pure, I am pure, I am pure.

Nekhtet!

Catharsis and Purification

This story takes a lot of context to tell properly; I'm going to tell it with all its context for the first time ever. It may well be frightfully dull. Some of it will be graphic.

In a way, writing this will be an offering to the Eyes of Ra for the new year: there is in here stuff that needs to die. Kheperu.

( No Pity. No Shame. No Silence. The commentary. )

That's all of it. All that I can remember right now. All as coherent as I can get it.

If I rip open the scar tissue, maybe it'll bleed out the rot, and maybe it'll heal true this time.