“Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.” ~ Old Children’s Rhyme
How I wish this were true. Words CAN hurt. Words can kill.
Yesterday’s post was written 24 hours after the events occurred. A lot of things happened in those 24 hours to even make it possible for me to post.
1. The initial fight-or-flight response. My adrenaline was high. I just wanted out. Away from that location. Away from those people.
Away from the memories washing over me.
2. I wanted to run. And I did. I ran about 5 miles that evening. But you cannot run from memories and past events. I needed the discomfort in my legs and my breathing to outweigh the discomfort in my mind. I had to displace it.
3. I needed to be in a place where I felt safe — my car. My home.
4. I needed to cry. But if they can see you cry, then they know where your weakness is and how to attack it. I never cried during those depositions. I refused to give them the satisfaction. I answered the questions calmly, almost robotically. When I’m alone, I cry. I have learned to hide my emotions for the most part.
5. I needed to talk to someone I could trust. I had never shared my deposition experience with anyone — not a close friend, not a spouse, not a family member. . .no one. I carried the shame alone.
Trust. Now there’s a word. I trust very few people.
6. Thirty six hours after the events, I’ve written. Not for the attention but to release it. Most of my co-workers and friends aren’t even aware I have a blog, so this is my therapy.
7. The adrenaline has dropped. I’m no longer in a panic. I realize my co-workers are different people in a different time and place. I also realize that people are people. I excelled in psychology and sociology. Pack mentality exists and it only takes one to start the ball rolling.
8. I no longer am contemplating quitting my job but it is still an option. A job is not the be all, end all for me. My sanity is.
If these posts help even just one person think before they speak, it will have been worth it.