I haven't been able to talk for awhile. There's too much going on inside. Overwhelmingly too much.
Last week one of the officers who took Jeff's and my statements called. He told me that he and the sheriff (who happens to be a friend from high school) visited with my cousin, David. They had interviewed him, told him of the charges against him, and taken his statement. The case is now with the district attorney who will decide what happens next.
And I've been a mess since then.
I had another can't-breathe-throwing-up-hurting-everywhere panic attack Sunday morning.
You see, I don't want this to go to trial. I don't want to talk about what happened anymore. I don't want to accuse or testify or see justice done. I just want it to all go away. And I know that makes me a coward. I know this. I don't care. I don't ever want another of those panic attacks. I want to feel in control of my life again. I want to stop being afraid.
I thought I wasn't afraid anymore, but I am. I hate afraid.
I REALLY need hugs right now. Except I don't want to be touched by anyone.
For the first time in my life (change of topic) I find myself missing people. This is not the former, "Wow, I'm thinking of someone. I wonder how they are. I would love to talk with them again. And now I'm going to go clean my bathroom," type of missing people. That was how I used to experience it. And it never went any further because if they weren't here, then probably they weren't missing me, so I needed to expend my energy on something else. Missing people was pointless.
This is new. It feels like a physical yearning to be next to another person-- to feel them sitting beside me, breathing-- to hear their voice-- to inhale their essence and know who they are. I don't remember ever feeling this before. It makes me feel like laughing and crying at the same time. I'm very confused by it. I think it means something, but I don't know what. Except maybe I'm losing my mind? I'm caught up in a great deal of stress so maybe my mind and body are trying to distract me? I just don't know.
I went to physical therapy today. I'm cleared to run as I choose; outdoors, on different terrains, as long as I wish within reasonable limits. My flexibility in my bionic hip is as it was four years ago. I can sit cross-legged, do cartwheels, stretch my foot over my head, do infinity squats... I'm better. I need new running shoes. Right now.
Tabitha purged her room this week. I have three bags of clothing sitting in my living room and she has more to go. It's amazing to watch her grow up, to let go of things that have been unhealthy and damaging. We're looking at a new therapist for her; one who will help her finish and maintain the things she learned in treatment. We've been very blessed. Two years ago I did not believe Tabitha would choose to live.
Adam has started working full time and going to school part-time. He's still in therapy to recover the memories he lost when he was taking medication to rewire his brain and stop the migraines he was experiencing 3-4 times weekly. He feels better. His personality is back to normal. I have my son back.
DJ is still at home while he pays off knee surgery. He goes to school for awhile, loses interest, works for awhile, then returns to school. He has no burning desire to do or be anything. But he's delightful. Adam and Tabitha are very happy to have him close by. The three of them disappear upstairs to play games or listen to music or just talk together. Sometimes they invite me to join them. I have amazing kids.
Now, if I could stop having crises at school, if I could get the right materials for my classes, if I could stop needing to think about what will happen as the case against my cousin progresses, if I could stop having panic attacks, nightmares resulting in being drenched in cold sweat and throwing up, I think my life might feel manageable again. But at least I'm talking. That's a step in the right direction.