To make a very long and complicated story short, I have accepted a settlement in my lawsuit against my rapist.

As part of that settlement, he will be required to undergo a psychosexual evaluation by a provider licensed to do so and follow any recommendations made by the evaluator, if any. The ball is very much in his court in terms of how honest he is in that process. It is my sincerest, deepest hope that he will be truthful, that he will get treatment, that he will change.

Also as part of this settlement, I am required to remove his name within 60 days from all of my posts and will not be posting it in the future. I ask that no one comment his name on my posts, either. You can take what you will from this provision of the settlement in terms of the amount of accountability taken. I am still allowed to discuss his name privately, and I am still allowed to publicly share my story, just without identifying him.

I was able to address my rapist directly as part of the settlement. I was able to say the things I wanted and needed to say without limitation. I spoke from my heart. After so many years of letting him control my reality, he had to listen to me tell him that despite all of his efforts, I know what happened, who he is, and what is real. He had to listen to me expressing my hopes for the choices he might make in the future.

I used to feel such shame over the pain what happened caused me, but as I spoke and began to cry, I realized that I no longer have that shame because I now recognize I am a human, feeling person reacting appropriately strongly to the abuse I endured. Knowing that and being unashamed of it is a victory. Hiding that truth and hiding those feelings was what he had wanted.

It’s hard to capture the impact being able to give this statement had on me. It was both healing itself and also a proclamation of the healing I’ve already done. I’m very grateful to have had that opportunity and to be able to walk away knowing I got to say what I wanted to say and that he had to listen. I profoundly hope he heard me.

My number one goal in pursuing this lawsuit has always been to know I’ve done everything in my power to create consequences, to create change if it is possible. At the end of the day, I walked out of that courtroom feeling confident that I had, in fact, done everything in my power. I would like to believe that change is possible, for the people around him most of all but for his own sake as well. I have to believe in a world where people can grow and become better. I would celebrate if he is able to do so and goes on to help others like him do the same.

And as one friend said to me, my watch is now over. I release this weight. I step into the rest of my life with an ease I’m still learning to trust is real.

Another goal of my lawsuit was justice. I do not feel that goal was accomplished, and there is a lot of heartbreak that goes along with grappling with what happened at the end. Still, it is over. And I am choosing peace. I am choosing acceptance. I am choosing to let go. Easier said than done, but for the first time, I feel it is achievable.

* * *

I went for a run around my hometown the day after the settlement, and I did not feel afraid in the way I’ve been so accustomed to. I ran by the police station, and I didn’t get that visceral stomach anxiety. I ran around my high school’s track, remembering everything from lying on those mats beneath the stars late one night to halftime shows and marching band practices and magic miles and not walking at graduation and social laps during gym. I ran around the park where parade routes began and where a photo in evidence was taken. I remembered so many moments. And in a way they never did before, those memories felt like the past. When I thought about that girl in the picture with bruises on her arm, instead of going back there, I hoped that she would feel I fought for her the way she couldn’t fight for herself. I hoped she would be proud of me. I hoped she would forgive herself.

Justice is such a simple word, just seven little letters placed together, that carry such significance yet such ambiguity. In many ways, justice was never achievable. In some ways, it was. I can try to force what’s occurred into some template that can fit within the definition of justice, but instead I allow the jagged, ugly shape with which this ending exists to be here in its true form. This is not the ending I hoped for after nine years of fighting for truth. But I would wish continuing this battle on no one, so I will not impose it on myself. That would not be justice either, of that I am sure.

I am so appreciative of the support I recieved on this journey. While there have been a lot of systemic failures and disappointments, there have also been many incredible feats of humanity, friendship, care, and resources that I can’t leave out of this narrative. To every person who ever sent me a kind message, to every person who silently believed me, to every person who spent time and energy listening to me or talking through things or reading my words or giving me advice, to every coworker who picked up my slack and did not allow me to feel guilty about it, to every boss who refused to let me feel inadequate, to every program that helps people like me, to every person who is a part of the justice machine trying their best to do their part, and many, many more, from the bottom of my heart, thank you. Please join me in hoping for the very best. Please join me in continuing to care about the issues that need changing. And please welcome me into the present. I’m really excited to finally be here.