Rachel Luna - Permission to Offend: The Compassionate Guide for Living Unfiltered and Unafraid

For my daughters, Isabella and Valentina.

And to all the #loyalLUNAtics.

May you always give yourself

Permission to Offend.

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I woke up to him on top of me.

STOP! STOP! I screamed. The room was spinning. I was completely naked, and a guy I had met only a few hours earlier was inside of me. My heart was pounding out of my chest. Whats happening? What did I do? How did I get here? Questions raced through my mind as I tried to make sense of the moment.

NO! Get off of me! I screamed louder.

Looking confused, he stopped, sat up, and said, Whats wrong? I thought you wanted to. I helped you, remember? Pushing him off of me, I got on my feet and scanned the dark room, looking for my clothes. No! No! I didnt want this, I cried. I saw my coat on the floor but no other clothes and quickly rushed to cover up. A memory flashed in my mind as the guy repeated, I helped you. I wasnt trying to hurt you. He had helped. I remembered being sick, throwing up in the bathroom, and him holding my hair back. But I didnt remember anything else. I definitely didnt remember agreeing to sleep with him.

NO! I cried again. I have to go. I have to get out of here. My keys were in my coat pocket, and even though the room was still spinning, I ran for the door. When I got outside, the cold air hit my face and I sobered up for a moment. Flashes from the evening began to come together.

My coworker Juliana had invited me out for cocktails. I remember laughing when she said the word cocktails, because even though I was a recovering alcoholic, I had never heard anyone actually use the word cocktails when referring to having drinks. I grew up in New York City, and over there we would have said, Lets get lit, or, Lets meet up for drinks. These California girls were different. I told her, Nah, girl, I dont drink anymore. Nothing good ever happens when I drink.

Youll be fine. Well just have one. You can trust me. Itll be fun, she said.

Yes, I remember now. I went out for drinks with Juliana, her boyfriend, and the guy who was on top of me... What was his name?

Another memory flashed. This time I remembered being in the club and Julianas boyfriend returning from the bar with two green drinks. He handed me a glass, raised his in a Cheers gesture, and then he made the motion to interlock his arm with mine so that I was drinking from his glass and he was drinking from mine.

The memory faded to black. Wheres my car? I need to get home. Tears continued to fall down my face as I finally spotted my car.

It was by Gods grace that I made it home safely. But the next morning, I felt like I was reliving a nightmare. I called one of my closest friends to tell her what had happened. I think I was raped last night, I said.

Girl, lets take you to the hospital, she said. We have to file a police report.

No. We cant. I work with this girl. I dont even know what happened. I was drunk, but I only remember having one drink. This cant be happening to me. Once again, tears began to fall.

It doesnt matter, she insisted. At least have them do a rape kit on you.

Taking a deep breath, I said, Okay.

The police were dismissive, and since I couldnt remember the guys name or the address, they said there wasnt much they could do. If I was willing to give them my coworkers name and phone number they could go after her and try to find the guy. But I refused. I was so ashamed of myself. I was so scared that everyone at work would find out. Worse, I worried that they would all say it was my fault and that I had asked for it. I left the precinct feeling worse about myself than when Id walked inand believe me, when Id walked in my self-respect was at a low point.

I didnt hear a word from Juliana all weekend long, but there she was on Monday morning, front and center. Oh my gosh, are you okay? The guys said you left crying. I just gave her a look and said, Stay away from me. I might have believed her concern if she had called or sent a message to check on me over the weekend. But she hadnt.

I never asked Juliana for the guys name or information. After that day she rarely spoke to me, except for the occasional work question. No Good morning. No Have a great weekend. Nothing.

I too remained silent. I never followed up with the police. I never tried to press charges. I just tried to pretend it had never happened.

So why would I choose silence, with Juliana, with the police, with myself? I kept silent because of the three fears well tackle together in this book: judgment, rejection, and defamation.

I was terrified of judgment from coworkers at my job and possibly in a court of law...

I was afraid of rejection from friends and/or partners...

I was afraid I would face defamation by everyone who already knew me, that they would spread ugly rumors about me. Even more terrifying, I was afraid they would use the truth of who I had beena promiscuous alcoholicagainst me for the rest of my life. So I did and said nothing.

Dont confuse the truth of who you once were with the truth of who you are today.

#PermissiontoOffend

Maybe you havent been sexually assaulted, but you have had an experience in which you did and said nothing as a means to protect yourself. Maybe this story made you think of something happening in your life right now, and youre trying to figure out if you should speak up, do something, make some kind of a changebut youre afraid your truth will offend someone. Maybe you just want to stop carrying the guilt and shame of who you were so you can start walking in the truth of who you are.

If so, this book was written for you, and my hope is that it encourages and inspires you to share the parts of your story that you have been hiding out of fear of what others might think, say, or do.

Because I know that when you start living unfiltered, unashamed, and unafraid, your life will change! When you start sharing your truth, your stories, and, yes, even the parts of you that have held guilt and shame, not only are you set free but others with similar stories are set free as well. No longer will you have to hide, stay silent, or reject your wants, needs, and desires for the sake of not offending others.

Let me be clear: giving yourself permission to offend is not about being intentionally hurtful. Its about giving yourself permission to own and share all the parts of you without the filters, the shame, or the fear that so often hold people back. Contrary to popular belief, when you give yourself permission to offend, you are not instigating conflict, division, or strife with others. Its not about saying without thinking, demanding the spotlight, or putting others down. Offending is about liberation. Truth. Empathy. Humanity. Strength of character. Character was what I had to give myself permission to build as I released a decade of shame and unworthiness. Character is what you might have to give yourself permission to build as you stand up for whats true for you.

When you hear the word offend, it might bring up some stuff for youwhen we think of offending others, we first think of being offended. We dont want to be one of those people who offend. I hear words like racism, hatred, bigotry, anti-vaxxer. Let me be clear: This book is not a weapon. The messages are not fuel for division. On the contrary, increasing your permission to offend increases your permission to be offended, which in turn allows others to form deeper relationships with you. There is no more loving, welcoming, inclusive, and inviting place to be than right smack-dab in the heart of this book.