too many memories...

So apparently, the wrath of 2009 has caught up with me and I have post-traumatic stress. I haven’t been sleeping well for the last little while and certain things seem to trigger panic attacks in me of the likes that I haven’t experienced in years.

The night that I first discovered the lump was a Thursday. It was one of the first really warm days of the season and we had just been out for a walk. The sun had gone down, the windows were open and the night air was still really comfortable. We had been in our bedroom laughing about something and the television was playing some rerun of a sitcom. Our cat was playing on our bed with a green blanket that had just come out of the dryer. I could hear the neighbors outside and the busyness of everyone relishing summer for the first time in many months. I am finding that any of these memories, aligned in just the right way, end up flooding me with an overwhelming feeling of recognition that I can’t quite shake. It brings me to tears, it brings me to my knees and it brings me to a place that I would rather not remember over and over again.

The day that we received the call saying that I was healthy was a Monday. It too was an unusually warm day and the wind was blowing through in a sometimes violent manner. Dozens of little kids were outside preparing for soccer practices and neighbors were out walking their dogs. Tugger was stretched out in a ray of sun across our kitchen floor. I can remember the smell of someone nearby barbecuing ribs and the sound of a lawnmower. The days were getting longer and the anticipation of summer was getting nearer. But these things don’t matter because I am still locked in Thursday and the perpetually slow speed at which Monday seemed to find its way to us.

Fortunately, one of the top specialists in the region for treating post-traumatic stress is right here in Ottawa and also fortunately, my particular case has become enough of a priority that I am not forced the endure the four or five month waiting list that most people are being subjected to. Instead, I will spend the next three months, starting today, being treated for a wound that happened in a moment.

My new project this summer is going to extend beyond my photography or my writing or planning our trip to Italy; it’s going to include learning to cope with life after seeing a scarier side of it; It’s going to include learning to find joy in places despite my found realization that they can be gone in an instant; It’s going to include being brave enough to stare down my worst nightmare and not let it haunt me in my dreams anymore.

It’s going to include being happy again.