“There are wounds
that never show on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that
bleeds.” – Laurell K. Hamilton, Mistral’s
Kiss
I’ve been a little jumpy lately. Something that I really don’t
care to talk about set off yet another relapse of PTSD. I’ll be grateful when I
can calm down enough to not think a certain someone is going to bash my car
windows in, follow me home, or just show up somewhere I happen to be in an
uncontainable rage. When I get to the root of that irrational fear perhaps I
can feel a sense of peace again.
The fear I have of this unnamed person is only half of the
equation. Two nights ago, a woman ran in front of my car while I was driving on
my way to tango. I still can’t quite put it all together to make one big
picture. It’s come to me in pieces. I saw a bike on the sidewalk and her on the
other side of my car. I thought I had killed someone.
I pulled over at the first opportunity and ran back to see
if she was okay. A crowd had already gathered. The woman was standing and I was
hysterical. The EMTs and law enforcement arrived. All witnesses supported my
account: she literally ran straight in front of me. I had slammed on my brakes
so hard that my back seats came unhinged and the contents of my trunk were
scattered in the back of my car.
All I could do was cry and I wasn’t the one who nearly got
bowled over by a vehicle going 30 MPH. This is one of those times in life where
I’m convinced some sort of divinity was looking out for me. The witnesses to
the accident stood around me, telling me it was going to be okay and that I’m a
good person who just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. I also
think it’s worth mentioning the kindest of them all was a gay man out
celebrating his birthday with his mother and his fiancé. I’ve literally lost
count of how many times a gay man has come to my rescue. For those of you who
still live in the stone age and view these lovely human beings as sinners and something
less than human, F*CK YOU! Seriously. I have a lot to say about my own
perception of the struggle for equality. I’ll save it for another time in the
near future.
As it turns out, this woman was darting in and out of
traffic because she thought she saw money in the road. Holy f*cking hell. I’ve
felt desperate from time to time in life, but I don’t think I’ve ever been that
desperate. There was some speculation that she was high on drugs. I make no
moral judgments. We all deal with pain our own way. Some of us can face it,
some of us ignore it, and some of us just need an escape and find that escape
in very bad places. I gave her all the cash I had on me. I hope that went to
something that was beneficial for her.
The entire situation makes me sick to my stomach. This woman
who was ready to sacrifice her life for pocket change in the road had a man
with her. My instincts told me something wasn’t right about it. She seemed
afraid of him and that made me feel even more badly for her. I think what
upsets me the most is that there wasn’t a damn thing I could do for her.
I was too shaken up to drive home. The wonderful man who was
the greatest comfort to me called my brother from my phone and he and his fiancé
gave me the world’s longest hug while I sobbed myself to exhaustion. My brother
came to pick me up and drove me home. Since this ordeal, I’ve felt as if I’m
barely in touch with reality. My hound is a comfort. Tango is a comfort. Even
my job is comforting. Despite these wonderful things, I’m feeling quite
detached from the world . . . I also feel as if I could cry for days. The effects of these lovely aspects in my life are only temporary. I guess I’m
still in some form of shock.
In other news – the question that seems to be on most people’s
mind is my dating life. If people are asking me when I’m going to start dating
again they’re asking if I need to be comforted . . . . sickos. No thank you,
sir. I do not need your comfort and I don’t want the comfort of whomever else
you have in mind for me, either. I'll be just fine.
"Nothing if permanent in this wicked world - not even our troubles." - Charlie Chaplin
No comments:
Post a Comment