At the beginning of today I had no desire to talk to anyone. I started my day saying, "just be a robot. You can make it if you just be a robot." Kinda like a year ago. I remember everything that happened, but I don't remember it through my eyes. The only 'me' part I remember was leaving work, going to IGA to get poweraid and chew, and driving to the shop listening to everything play out over the radio. I hadn't thoroughly panicked until that point (I was on the S curves when that happened). He didn't talk except to say thanks for the poweraid. A lot of things about this last year are so engrained in my brain that I'm certain I'll never forget. I call them flashbacks. One of the big ones is of Steven pacing on the sidewalk in front of his parents' house. That image still eats at me, but I was only nervous for him. I knew it would be handled, because that's what he did.
I remember going to walmart right after work to buy an umbrella, one item that failed to move with us from our parents' houses. It was really raining and misty. I hadn't heard from him, nothing new. I didn't go back to the shop til later that evening. Crystal made spaghetti for supper. Steven was held up in questioning, so we didn't wait to eat. Three hours later (it was pouring at this point) he still hadn't returned. I was sent to find him/them for their supper. This next part is another common flashback...I poked my head in the door of the shop, and it fell completely silent. I froze. Three eyes on me...two seemed to say 'what the hell is she doing here'. The other, 'I can't let her see any of this'. He said, "uh..go back in the house." I didn't like that. I don't like being told what to do, and that was the first time in over 5 years he had ever made me feel uncomfortable. The rest of the night was, "just a bunch of questions. They have to feel important and have something to show for bein here." That was it. Three hours and all it was was a bunch of dumb questions? Uh...ok.
My life was coming completely unglued behind my back, but he made sure I was clueless. He was home damn near every evening, I cooked for my husband like a normal wife. We did things together as a couple in public (Buffett bash, Thursday thunder), and sometimes he was home even before I got home! We grilled out a lot, and he was so damn happy about it. All the rest of July was wonderful. Sort of a stereotypical 'wild and free' young summer. If I asked about the shop, he'd say everything was just fine. It was being taken care of.
And that was only the beginning. I still feel the panic. I can still smell the burning and smoldering. I remember what the rain felt like when I was wondering what they were talking about in the shop. I remember what I was wearing (and haven't worn it since). I remember washing so much laundry that smelled like horrible smoke. The whole next two months will be a flashback. Its quiet. It's lonely. It's not what was supposed to happen. I feel like I've spent a whole year saying "what the hell is happening?!"
I said my life was coming unglued behind my back. Progressing to today, I feel like everything came unglued, I turned around, they removed my blind fold, and said 'alright...figure it out. And it will get worse. Good luck! Lol." So...I have to figure out what to do with all of this dumped in my lap, wait for it to explode again, and then try to figure out how to lug around this shit storm with me while trying to regain a sense or normal and happy, I'll tell you, I'm a year in to it and all I've figured out is that I have PTSD, lexapro makes me sick, and I don't know how to turn any of this in to even a glimmer of what I want my life to be.
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