It happened again last night. We were watching an old episode of "The Mentalist". It's one of my favorite programs. I am drawn to damaged heroes, go figure.
Jane and Cho are in a sub-basement where 3 skeletons have been discovered. They are investigating and I am intrigued with where the story will go. Jane points out wire wrapped around one of the victim's wrist. And that's when it starts. He wants outside and so do I.
I look at Alan, but he hasn't noticed. I begin to slow my breathing. I'm relieved as they show Jane walk up the stairs and out into the sunlight. He inhales deeply, raising his arms to the sun. The camera pans back to show he's come out of a barn with the Red John symbol painted on it. But I am stuck on that barn. Looking out over a field. And the realization, just before Jane has it, that he only thinks he's safe there in the sunlight.
I've been in a barn with wire twisted around my wrist to hold me still. I've been desperate to escape the barn and flee into the sunlight, believing I will be safe there. It was all just a bit too familiar.
I kept breathing and reminding myself that, yes, there were lots of reminders here, but I want to watch these characters, and death was not my fate that day. I become intrigued again in the show, but I also start playing solitaire on my phone -- a basic escape, coping mechanism for me. I realize I'm following the episode, but not. And I accept that I may have to watch it again later, but I'll skip the scene in the barn, much the way my son always skips the opening scenes in "Disturbia" so he' doesn't have to see them again. To be wounded by them again.
And I realize I'm am learning to cope with this history of mine. I'm controlling it much more than it is controlling me. Maybe that's what they meant by healing all those years ago.
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