The shame: she runs deep
Listening to: Shame spiral - the opera
I'm sure you'll be glad to know that God did not smite the church full of basketball playing Christians the other night.
But...
It's time for me to get medicated because I feigned illness so I could go home. I know. I know. J and the girls caught a ride home with friends and I took Rosie and drove home, keeping my eye on the darkening sky.
Let me repeat myself. I left my husband and 2/3 of my children to die in a church I was sure would be toppled by a tornado. I missed an impotant event because I could not get the feeling of DOOM! (doom! doooooom!) to go away. I couldn't carry on conversations with my neighbors. I couldn't wave at my kid. I couldn't do anything but picture the balcony we were seated in falling on the people below us and then the lumber-y aftermath of a twister.
I knew my thoughts were irrational. I knew the likelihood of anything happening was pretty slim. I knew all that, but I couldn't stop the what ifs. I'm already sweating the visits to the lake this summer and I love the lake. I love the lazy days spent in the water, the reading, the complete family time. And I'm dreading them because there might maybe be a strong tornadic type storm. Possibly.
I'm pretty sure folded laundry will not solve this problem.
