I know for more than half of you that are my friends on social media, the past week has been an absolute butt kicker. The Kavanaugh confirmation has further divided us, riled us up, made us angry, and for those of us who want to stay involved in politics, made us wonder if any of our work is worth it.

Our work is worth it.

In order to prove this out, I need to share a deeply personal story. Because family members and friends I’ve known since childhood may read this, I’m going to go ahead and give you the warning that this isn’t an easy one to share, but the outcome of sharing this is where the hope portion of this story happens.

During the early days of the #MeToo movement, women I know of all ages and backgrounds posted their hashtags, and I was blown over by how many people had a #MeToo moment. I did the same. Choosing at that time not to share every detail, I shared one story of a boss who made the moves on me when I was a fairly naive 20-something. In that particular story, I had the guts and the wherewithal to remove myself from the situation, and even find inside myself to see the humor in the situation because I got out of that one safely.

I didn’t share the other examples of when I was on the receiving side of attempted sexual assault. I told myself it wasn’t important to share those personal details. So, when I watched Dr. Christine Blasey Ford’s testimony, something inside me stirred deeply. I began to ask myself this question:

If the boy who sexually assaulted me in high school were a Supreme Court nominee, would I come forward?

The answer isn’t easy, and it came with several hypothetical options. I might wait for someone else to speak out, then come forward myself to help support the other woman. I might come share my story out of concern that though this person is likely married now with children and a successful career, due to the responsibility attached to that job, I would have to come forward. But I would feel better if I weren’t coming forward alone. Another option? I might keep it to myself and do nothing.

The memes and gifs and comments on both sides of the Dr. Ford testimony troubled me deeply. A friend I’ve known and loved for many years asked me to explain how Dr. Ford couldn’t recall so many details. The questions she asked were surrounding how could the woman not remember specific details of that incident?

I waited a while before replying, waffled back and forth on whether to respond at all, then finally replied,

“I was sexually assaulted in high school. I remember some vivid details. I don’t remember what I wore, what he wore, what kind of car he drove, what the air smelled like, what shoes I had on.

Do you believe me?”

When I posted the reply, I was trembling with fear. Fear that people would ask me who did it. Fear that the person who did it might remember and reach me to discuss it. Fear that I might upset friends and family. Fear that by sharing that it happened, the trauma of that event might return to haunt me.

I am thankful that I don’t have to go into the details of that evening of what was easily attempted date rape because I’m not testifying in court and the specific details are nobody’s business this many years later. It is my survivor story. Just as the other time when I was in a situation where I felt pressured to engage in activity that I was not at all comfortable with, I was firm that evening in saying no, and though this young man behaved in a manner that was appalling and shameful, he drove me home and did not rape me.

Though I wasn’t raped, it could have gone that way so easily, and had I been raped, I would not be able to tell you specific details of that evening because it was nearly thirty years ago. I never reported, and never told my parents. I just told my mother very recently, and even then felt guilty for admitting something that happened to me that in my head, I feel like I might have caused by agreeing to ride to and from the party with a boy who couldn’t keep it in his pants. Was it something I wore? Was it something I said? What did I do to cause it to happen? Because that is what survivors of sexual assault often do — they take the blame themselves.

I watched the comments on my friend’s post as some people challenged my friend on asking the question in the first place. Others agreed with her. I wondered if people believed me or not, and spent days feeling vulnerable and afraid of the can of worms I was opening after decades of silence.

Meanwhile, the Kavanaugh story got uglier and uglier. Our very own president called Dr. Ford a credible witness, then mere days later, mocked her while his supporters laughed. Then, our very own president mocked those exercising their right to demonstrate, and I struggled to understand how people that I know who voted for Trump could view that behavior as acceptable. I take their silence on the matter to indicate that they do think this kind of behavior is acceptable, and that makes me both angry and sad.

And yes, some people who were on the other side of the debate got ugly as well. When passions and tensions are that high, we’re all liable to show a side of ourselves that we aren’t necessarily proud of. I’m included in that category.

In all of my years on social media, I have only chosen to hide/unfriend two people on Facebook because the level of hatred they were engaging in was so high I felt it was contagious. I worried their negativity and conspiracy theories might permeate into my being. I often think about how often its “us” versus “them” and how it’s getting harder and harder to find a middle ground. That’s extremely depressing to me. I wonder if civility is lost, and if there is a way back from what we’ve become.

So imagine my absolute shock when several days after my friend asked me to explain why Dr. Ford couldn’t recall specific details of the night she recalls being sexually assaulted, the same friend posted the video of Lady Gaga sharing her thoughts on survivors of sexual assault with Stephen Colbert. With the video, my friend posted the following message:

“And just for the record..My mind has changed on things and I understand what a lot of you are saying!!”

On a day where I was overwhelmed with the weight of the world, and so disappointed in how ugly things have gotten, my friend gave me hope. And instead of high-fiving myself for being part of the reason she was able to change her mind (because Lady Gaga actually gets that credit), I asked myself to listen harder to those with whom I disagree.

So that’s where I’m going from here. I’m going to reach out and have real conversations with people who share differing opinions, even if it becomes uncomfortable. I hope to open minds. I hope that my mind will be willing to consider a different perspective.

Now, please don’t interpret my sense of hope as giving up for the beliefs I hold dear. I’m about to vote with my wallet and vote with my vote and I’m going to vote to help protect future generations to have access to the same liberties I’ve been afforded in my life. We can still resist and persist and fight. But perhaps, if we allow ourselves to reach out and listen, we can find some common ground.