There he stood humble and clearly uncomfortable. He was here to apologize. My partner and I stood before him searching for the words to make this situation slightly more comfortable for all of us. I didn’t know what to say and neither did she. We stood listening. I don’t really know if it could have been more uncomfortable. Is there a way words can ever possibly be enough? I guess they are a place to start. I’m left restless and adrift. Finding solid ground this week seems pretty impossible. It is as if the universe has sent all these roadblocks to create and incredibly difficult time. Not sure what I did to deserve this one. There are no answers, just these blockades to find a way around or over. I don’t know how I feel right now. The disconnect is immense. Strangely I dreamt of the man who assaulted me last night, it is like my brain his grabbing ahold of ever trauma, I’m not sure why. What do they have to do with anything now? The only connection I can make would be the gun episode is triggering off some of that long-buried ptsd. my brain is making connections out of thin air, often at night in my dreams. It takes some real effort to draw the lines but I guess the gun- the hospital- watching the patients around me get ECT- the big guy having a meltdown and needing to be held down and drugged- all the memories it unleashed the 20 year old completely out of control and suicidal, impulsive beyond measure- the bloodshed in my dreams-the return home-losing the dog-the school shooting-owning the same exact gun-it is just a strange wandering road in my mind But it is still finding a way. Why this week, of all weeks my brother chooses to apologize is just beyond me. This all just borders on bizarre. I understand how each of these experiences is lighting up the neural pathways long left sleeping in my head. The flight response makes sense, not that it is unsafe here in my house, but unsafe in my head as it processes all this input. It is never an easy road, and there are always reminders of long hidden skeletons. They never ever remain hidden. There is always a chance of some reminder. I know now looking back over the weeks what some of them are, I just can’t seem to stop the landmines I keep walking into.

I’ll go play some polo and hope to get my feet back on the ground.