I guess I'm just not there yet. I have my own issues to keep working on in the layers of the onion that is recovery. Had a pretty awful episode today, triggers and PTSD oh my!
All I can say is even before this incident I was already feeling sort of beat up. Not only is my former friend dying but Sunday I got word that a friend in California had passed away and yesterday afternoon Jim and I heard that one of his former coworkers at the Dept of Labor had been found dead in his condo. He was younger than I. Not only was Jim close to him but I knew him pretty well. We're talking years of going to Nationals and Oriole games with him, having him out here for the 4th of July, hiking Old Rag together, parties, get togethers, you-name-it. His name was Glenn, and he was one of the most generous people I've known. When each of our kids graduated from college he took our family out to celebrate. When my father died he organized among their friend group and raised enough for me to have a nice gift card. When Jim had cancer in 2012 he was the one that raised funds again and sent the biggest fruit and gourmet basket for him. He was just so generous, just such a big hearted guy we all loved. Glenn and Jim took some trips together through the years, to Vegas and many times to Florida for MLB spring training camps. He'll be missed so much by us. A great loss for this world.
Okay, back to today. It started off as usual, my updating NLQ between washing clothes and running the dishwasher. Having discussions with my husband over the blocks of copper tile I had started mounting in the kitchen over the counter tops. I knew I had an online webinar I had to attend after lunch, some paperwork I needed to read through involving NLQ and a quick editing job to crank out that was going to keep my hopping until dinner time. So right before lunch I decided I really needed to run out into the sunshine with this week's stale bread and visit the park. I did that, laughing as I noticed that one of the Canada geese not only recognized me but was doing a crazy happy dance with his head and neck swimming over to me. Bobbing his head, shaking it side to side and radiating joy. I needed to see that.
On the way home I decided we needed steaks since it's been a hard week. I stopped at the local Mennonite store to get several of their organic beef steaks for this evening and a few other things, Jim's favorite cheese crackers and some herbs.
As I was pushing my cart over to the checkout counter a certain song started playing, 'Come, Now Is The Time To Worship' - the cheesy slow folky version with a man sappily singing and playing acoustic guitar. A song I've played and sang something like ten million times in my many years on worship team. I had an immediate and disturbingly visceral reaction to the song, feeling like someone had slugged me in the stomach. I found myself suddenly nauseated, gagging as I paid for my groceries and staggered out.
I didn't even manage to get my lone bag of groceries into the car before I started dry heaving into the front flower beds. There I stood on the edges of Route 29 in Virginia attempting to barf up the nothing that was in my stomach.
Why this song? Why nine years after leaving? Why now?