Tuesday, January 14, 2014

From last night (offline)

Authors Note: Many of the "silly" entries mentioned here included online surveys and email forwards. I've chosen to only include entries that directly speak to true journaling. Some surveys may be included as they give a good snapshot of where we were at the time


Have noticed an interesting trend in this diary. Every difficult post is followed by something inane or silly. Accident? I think not. Matter of fact, you can tell how hard it was by how many silly entries follow. Also, this site freaking folds every weekend and it only took us two and a half months to figure out we need to do our entries in Word, from Friday to Monday.

By the time we finished friday night, the headache was so bad I was looking for the crack in my skull *sigh* not going to think about it. Not going to think about it. Not going to think about it.

Sadly, right now there are no good choices in what to think about. Trying to sleep last night was like watching a slide show where all the pictures were out of order. Images from every stage of this life flashed across the mind’s eye and each one seemed to tighten just a little more around my chest. Hard to breathe. Hard to think. Tried to wake up Charlie to talk but it was 2 am and hard as he tried, he couldn’t stay awake. By the time he was conscious enough to talk this morning, we were out for the count. For once, slept like a rock.

What did we talk about yesterday? We talked about the systemic memories (some people call them body memories) and how they have been triggered by recent day to day stuff. We talked about Canada when the right foot was hurt so badly.

We had stopped the Winnebago and dad’s truck on the side of the road and had gone down a steep, slightly rocky hill. There is no memory at all of stopping or why we went down the hill. It wouldn’t have been to use the bathroom (my parents were big on learning to pee in the woods. Anything to keep a long trip from getting longer) because there was one on board the RV. The only memory is of walking up the hill and the foot hurting like hell. Dad was behind me. Don’t remember if anyone else was around.

We crossed the border into Canada that afternoon. While in a pay-toilet Mum said to watch Nora. (This memory is one of the ones that affected Laura) and while we used the toilet, Nora disappeared. There is a vague memory of Mum’s panic and everyone in the family crying when a search around the area did not find her. The police were contacted and at some point we were parked on some city street and everyone in the family was… going out to look for Nora? Maybe they were going to the police station. Don’t remember.

The foot hurt so bad by this time. After we stepped out of the RV, mum finally noticed the limping. Maybe we were crying? She told us to shut up but we didn’t. It was then that one of us tried to convince her how bad it hurt. She demanded we stop limping. God, we tried. We really tried, but just couldn’t. She finally got so angry she sent us back into the RV. If we couldn’t keep up and stop our sniveling, we could stay alone and wait for them.

“Oh, well then, if you can’t walk, you can’t come with us. See how much you like staying alone.”

Can sort of understand her behavior then, just because I know what it feels like to have a child missing. Even if only for a few minutes, it’s terrifying.

Also, the other night with Rachel in the emergency room… we were trying to calm Rachel who was beginning to really panic over the idea of stitches, when Becca walked in and tried to have a conversation with the doctor and nurse about when she’d had her stitches a few months ago. I got short with her and told her that we weren’t there to hang out and have an adventure, but to care for Rachel.

It was wrong. It hurt her feelings and I apologized later. It just felt for a moment like Becca (who is very much like I remember being… feeling less important than the rest) was trying to dominate the attention that, at that moment, needed to be on Rachel. All she was really trying to do was let Rachel know it wasn’t so bad and she’d get through it. Anyway…

We stayed alone in that stupid Winnebago for hours. Alone, in a foreign country, feeling totally responsible for Nora’s disappearance and feeling very sorry for myself because no one believed the foot hurt so bad. Can remember eating through a roll of life savers I found in one of the under seat compartments in the front. We had been told not to even look out the windows or unlock the door, so spent all that time literally laying low and sort of hiding. Not exactly a new concept for us.

Don’t know how long it was before they came back, but Nora had finally been found more than a mile from where she disappeared. Everyone said it was a miracle nothing happened to her. It was a miracle that she walked alone all that way and no one hurt her.

It’s taken 20 years for me to look at this event and say BULLSHIT! No way did she go that far on her own. No way was she totally safe or unharmed. There is no fucking way she got that far on her own. She was fucking 4 years old. To this day she does not remember the event at all. We know why. In our gut, we know why. We’ve only just accepted that it wasn’t our fault she disappeared. Am in no way prepared to look at it all over again knowing something might have happened to the sister we were told to protect that day, and we are not going there tonight.

Tonight we’re focusing on the foot. That’s what started the inner panic I fought so hard to control in Dr. C’s office yesterday. It drives me crazy to have a total blank around how it got hurt. If it weren’t something intense, wouldn’t I remember it? If it was no big deal, why do I remember everything but how? If the stuff that I do remember is as bad as it is, how bad is this?