I wasn’t going to write about this, at least not tonight. I thought I would go to yoga and be calmer and exhausted and able to sleep. Nope. I’m sort of trapped in this awake awareness that something is off in my world and I don’t know how to make it right again. So what the heck – let’s put it out here in black and white and see if it sorts itself any better.
This afternoon I had to go back downtown to the police station for another identification and statement process. They had called last week to schedule it and told me it was just as likely to be cancelled as actually happen. No phone call or cancellation, so I drove downtown and reported a few minutes before my appointment time. This time there was a 20 minute wait before I was called back and told what to expect.
Line ups are kind of like what they do on TV, except kind of scarier. There were a couple today, and I had no difficulty picking out the 2 Very Bad Men from the Very Bad Incident. They look crazier cleaned up and behind glass than I remembered. They seemed to look right out and right at me, even if there was glass between us. I was not at all reassured that they could not see me.
It completely freaked me out to see them again.
Because I was not expecting to be so impacted by this process, I went alone. No M. No friend for moral support. Just me and my “oh I should be fine” attitude. Sometimes I truly do feel as dumb as the proverbial box of rocks.
The worst was meeting the other victim after my part was done. It was mostly accidental – she was leaving one office as I was leaving another – and we were briefly introduced. It was paralyzing in so many ways. She is much younger than I expected, still in a wheelchair, and has still has healing injuries to her face, neck, and her arms. My reaction was unscripted and shamefully honest, my horror at her injuries written clearly across my expression before I could compose my facial features.
I wanted to vomit when I left the building. My sympathy is real, and my fear is at the forefront and real again. The Very Bad Men are still in jail, and they do not know me or how to find me. But when I think about it, I feel physically ill. I cannot imagine what has been going through her mind as her physical injuries heal and she starts the difficult road with her emotional and mental scarring.
This should be it, unless there is a trial.
I have not been taking sleeping aids or had a truly terrible series of nightmares in several days. Mostly I have been keeping myself busy, been careful of my surroundings in strange places, parking near other cars or under well lit lamps in parking lots, trying to move in and out of places and buildings where I go in the pre-dawn and post-sunset hours. I have done a good job of convincing myself that I am not so afraid anymore.
Until today. When the illusion was shattered.
It may be a sleeping aid night. But tomorrow is a gym morning, and I will make myself get up and out of the house and do my practice, no matter how tired I am in the morning.
I will not give in and let my anxiety and fear win. Even if I admit to still being scared.