CALM/TERROR

Doubts creep in darkening a brilliant summer day. Even doubting if my son loves me or still looks up to me as he once did. How can a mother doubt her own son’s love? Walking to the creek along the meadow, sitting in the stillness, peace comes.

As it often does, nature’s gifts soothe in their simplicity and complexities. Round and round, the scents of various flowering bushes and milkweed, bringing me out of reverie into the present.

Monarchs twirled together, the first spotted this year, Samuel’s efforts at multiplying milkweeds where they love to cocoon paying off, the bright orange seemingly brighter than ever. Maybe they just came out of their cocoons.

Humid, the walking urged me into the pool, diving like a dolphin, then resting on the float as the current guided me slowly in circles like a river raft, or in a mother’s womb.

Out again for more walking, but with ease so that what’s around me is absorbed. By noon it was time for a movie. Getting up at 4AM causes a need for rest earlier in the day, but the ‘go to bed with birds and wake with them’ routine is working for me.

Cross-legged on the floor scouring my favorite DVD collection in the cabinet below the TV while the mid-day weatherman reports sunny cooler days ahead, a voice permeates the otherwise quiet room, “Looks good.”

There behind me was a man. A horrible scream came from my throat. The cat flew. Did you know cats fly? Mine does, bouncing like a ping pong ball ricocheting off the couch into neverland, as skittish as me. She had an abused beginning too.

Samuel had come in. With my poorer hearing I didn’t know.

“I’ve been behind you for 5 minutes,” he said, a smile on his face. That enraged me more than the fright while adrenaline still flowed through my veins.

Then he began an explanation full of nonsensical words because none included ‘I’m sorry.’

Cutting him off angrily I said, “Don’t say anything unless it’s ‘I’m sorry!”

He retreated to the back porch. My throat was really raw, pondering just how on edge my body always tends to be, even after a morning in the meadow experiencing great calm, then relaxing time floating in the pool. This still is fact of my life?

It is something I am accustomed to, but this was the most scared I’d been in a very long time. But am I really used to it? Because why was my face in a pan of Magic bars, a homemade concoction that is the same as a Mounds candy bar, eating till they tasted like sawdust, then eating more?

Trying my best even this morning not to be a self-hater, because these episodes have to do with unhealed parts of myself…. gentleness, remember that? That has been the only way to successfully lead myself on a path to improved health. Gentleness, kindness, and love towards self even with all my quirky humanness.

2 thoughts on “CALM/TERROR

  1. Big hugs. It’s amazing how utterly ignorant our spouses can be. The other day I was barely functional because of integrating an intense healing session on top of recovering from Covid. Beyond exhausted. And one of my medications was down to the last pill – a refill was waiting for me at the drug store. I asked my husband if he’d go pick it up and another med that was ready for pickup (but I still had about four days left at home). When he got back he said something about the drug store being out of one of the meds. I sat there hoping it wasn’t the one I needed the next day and asked him which one. Then he said he had them both – he was joking, trying to be funny. There was nothing funny.

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    1. No not funny. Sometimes I think others giggle or smile or whatever, not because they don’t feel bad about it, but because they are uncomfortable. At least in Samuel’s case I think that fits. But in the moment I felt enraged. My throat was sore even the next morning. This dam PTSD stuff!

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