I didn't get a lot of chance to read or write yesterday! Bill and I spent the day running errands, and he took me for lunch at a Vietnamese place. Afterward, I had an appointment with my therapist to try Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing therapy for the PTSD.
To do this, I had to recall and describe a traumatic incident that continues to bother me. In this case, it was the day that Dale was arrested for a DUI. Jamie and I had gone to the local fair and he'd had to work, but was going to come back and join us so that he could see the Tiger exhibit. He didn't answer his cell when I tried calling in the early afternoon, but I got a frantic and angry call a few hours later.
Come and get me!
Where are you?
I dunno. I was visiting Charlie's grave, then I left and drove down Highway 21. I'm in the ditch!
How am I supposed to find you if you don't know where you are?
Get your ass in that car and come and get me!
You're going to have to turn off the ignition, sleep for an hour, then wake up and figure out where you are. Then I can come and get you.
Two hours later, Jamie and I made our way to the payphones at the fair and tried calling again. This time, an RCMP officer answered, who told me that they were taking Dale to the detachment for processing and that I could pick him up in a few hours. I took Jamie home and waited, but by the time I called they'd opened his file and discovered that he'd done weekend jail time for discharging a shotgun at my car and wouldn't let me come down. Apparently he'd been arrested by force (he had several large fist-sized bruises along his back) and they thought he'd hurt me.
I knew Dale so well that I knew he'd be extremely upset if it wasn't me that got him home. Instead, he was forced to call his mother, who drove for ninety minutes to pick him up. Eventually, I heard her car in the driveway and I told Jamie to go to her room and lock the door.
I was right.
The first thing I heard when he opened the car door was a roar, then the sound of him kicking the van. I grabbed a butcher knife from the kitchen and slid the door closed, locking it behind me and going out through the dining room, where I stopped and stood behind the small freezer. I placed the knife on top and covered it with a tea towel, just as I heard him come up the stairs.
He flew down the hallway, screaming for me.
You bitch, leaving me down there to rot! Where are you?!
I heard him looking in our room then trying Jamie's door handle and discovering it was locked. Then I heard him start kicking it, and I couldn't bear Jamie facing him so I had to run out into his line of vision.
Dale, I'm right here! Leave her alone, she's trying to sleep!
I had my hand over the tea towel, but didn't grasp the handle until he picked up speed. By the time he reached me, I'd had to pick it up.
Stop! I demanded. You stop right there! I don't want to have to use this but I will if you take one fucking step closer to me. I looked over and saw his mother standing at the top of the stairs. If your mother isn't going to say it, I will. You're acting crazy now! I didn't come to get you because they wouldn't let me. They said you were dangerous - are you trying to prove them right?
I must have stood there for half an hour with that knife in my hand. I don't know how it ended really because I must have blocked a lot of it out. I know he acquiessed and went over to sit down on the couch, I know I kept the knife nearby because I didn't trust him. It took another few hours for him to agree that we loved each other and that the liquor was changing who he was. He might have promised he'd quit or go to rehab but then he always did in desparate situations. Honestly, from what I have pieced together, it was around this time that he'd decided to drink himself to death. He'd made reference to Ozzie Osbourne's song, Suicide Solution several times.
So yesterday this all came out, and while I had this vivid picture in my mind she made me say (over and over) how scared I was. While I was saying how scared I was, her hand was moving back and forth like a metrodome. After that, she made me say that I was okay now and that I was over it.
I have no idea if I am or not. I didn't get teary writing about it, so maybe it really works. The whole exercise reminded me of erasing something off a chalkboard.
Today I have the day off so it'll be laundry for me. Laundry and maybe some more underwear shopping. Jamie wants to go lingerie shopping this afternoon, and I could use some too.
Hope you all have a nice weekend.