Flash Recovery

(March, 2012: Working on indexing/categorizing pieces I've blogged. Transferring this piece from my once-public blog, versions.)

october 9, 2009
Continuation of "A Flash"
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I walked from the deck through the screened porch into the kitchen and up the hardwood stairs to where the bedrooms are.  I wanted to apologize to Helen, but her door was closed.  I heard her talking on the phone. I'd have to wait until she comes out.  Maybe the incident didn't bother her.

I went to the kitchen to prepare asparagus to eat.  While I'm getting the fresh garlic ready, Helen walked down the stairs.  I told her how very sorry I was about my dumb joke.  I overly apologize and I really mean it.  It was stupid, stupid, stupid.  I explain to her my antic and thoughts behind it, about really being myself.

I would never do that in front of a guest or my children.  Helen had been living with us for five weeks; she felt more like a sister than a guest.  Yet I realized afterward that my uncouth goofiness may have triggered her.

It had.  Again for the third Wednesday in a row, we were heading down some sort of enmeshment road.

Helen was distressed and recoiled.  She elaborated on what my inappropriate joke had done to her and how it had triggered her.  I again apologized, knowing that I couldn't undo the damage.  After we discussed it for about 15 minutes she said she understands, she doesn't want me to feel shame and like I need to go into a shell, and that she accepts my apology.  Still I realize that doesn't undo the damage my awkward anecdote triggered and her feeling the need to run.

She was still distressed. I asked, "Is there anything I can do to help?"  She wanted to buy some wine and facial cream.  I drove and we rode to the store in silence. I waited in the Explorer while she bought the items.

On the way home she says, "I wish you had some Tarot cards at your house.  Tarot cards always help me space out."   I feel the statement brings up the incident again;  the anxiety it caused her and now how she needs to rid the anxiety and that I don't have the tools at my house to help.  I want to say I have regular cards and animal cards and Greek/Latin vocabulary cards but I don't say anything.  By the time we get home,  it's a bit past 6:00 pm.  I've been mainly quiet since our initial talk when I apologized.

She has a glass of wine and brings up the incident, in a sarcastic way kind of like she is trying to laugh it off. She also mentions children, and how she, or maybe she said "we," are adults and don't play with children's toys.  I wanted to say, "I do," but remained silent.  I figured she was alluding to last night. Her sarcasm hurts, but I remain quiet.

I must keep my own emotional health well, acknowledging what I am responsible for and letting go of that which I am not responsible for. Yet, inside I feel that familiar feeling that I can do nothing right.  I'm a klutz.  I'm responsible for other's emotions. I'm stupid. I should learn to keep my mouth shut.  I scare people off.  I begin to feel shut down and like a child.  Oh no, now I'm getting triggered.  I remain quiet. 

I want to hide.  No.  The writing workshop starts at 7:00; I don't want to hide. 

I tell myself I'm allowed to be human; I'm allowed foilables. I am trustworthy; I am thoughtful.  One incident doesn't make me otherwise.  It seems when I screw up I really screw up.  God, I feel so very stupid.  Yet I did own up and I am genuinely sorry.

Helen said she accepted my apology, but I feel that deep down maybe she hasn't?  I wonder if unconsciously or unintentionally she wants to cause me pain; not necessarily me, but rather someone she feels (or felt) she can trusts?  Perhaps it is a lesson regarding trust and humanity?  Ultimately each of us is all alone.

Why for the past three Wednesdays has drama come up right before the writing studio?
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