I’ve said it often that I process things through writing. So to not be sure if I should write about my experience this past week or not is hard for me. There is a section of me that longs to just write about it, to aid in the discharging of the yuck that is now within me. But then there is the section of me that thinks it could cause more harm than good. That exposing the inner self of me would in someway put my family in danger. Exposing our lives and experiences might make us vulnerable, more vulnerable.
The few people who know of the experience have probably not thought another second about it. They listened while I told the story, they empathized with me, and now moved on. As well they should. But to me, little ol’ me, it made an imprint on my inner psyche.
It’s been six days and honestly I am better. I suppose by six weeks it will be a faded moment in my life. A story that perhaps we can someday laugh over. Okay, maybe not that but something similar.
In the world we live in we are always at risk or in harm’s way. Some of us just never wrap our heads around it in daily living. Especially when we live a pretty splendid life in the luxuries that we do. Me included. Oh sure, on occasion I’ll feel uncomfortable in an area or in a circumstance but nothing ever fearing for my life or my daughter’s.
Now that I’ve experienced a small taste of that type of fear, primarily in the daughter area, I find myself questioning myself. Questioning the choices that involve our home, our life, our abilities.
That’s a small area of the struggle. The thought of being somewhat violated, no matter how innocent it may seem to some, and I’m sitting here questioning myself! All I did was sleep in a bit and plan to have a great summer day with my kiddo!
More to come on this topic I’m sure……