Numbers

I am going to do this. My pink gym bag is packed with all the necessary gear: flippers, mask, goggles, and snorkel. I know I need to do this, for both of us. I don’t want to fail. I don’t want to let him down – again. 

The weather is nice for November. The car is pleasantly warm. I slip the new cd in and let the renaissance music fill the car. This could be fun and good. I need some fun and good. Things have been so hectic lately. Being sick, having sick kids and even he is sick now.

I notice what a beautiful day it is. The sun is shining in through the windshield warming me. Maybe once I master this new skill I’ll run a couple errands. I’m really feeling better . . . numbers? Numbers. NUMBERS!

Not now! Why do they always hit just when I’m starting to feel good? Why can’t it all just disappear?

Breathe. That’s the first thing they tell you to do. Breathe -- in deeply through the nose and out slowly through the nose. I am not crazy. It’s not happening now. We will deal with this. Bad thoughts are rushing through my head. Numbers. What is that about? Five, eight, twelve and fifteen – these are very bad numbers. Small animal skulls in a gift box. Water. The chicken coop. It’s her again. Invading my brain, and trying to drive me crazy. It’s not enough that she did these sick and disgusting things when I was a kid, but the memories keep invading my daily life.

I get to the YMCA and realize I have made it. The flashback was a really bad one, but I’m still here. She’s not going to stop me this time.

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