musings on life
i'm finally writing again, and logged back in to the blog after ages of not being here (reasons are many and none good).
i happened to find this post from way back in september of last year and i think i owe myself to post it. i definitely don't feel this way anymore - the guilt is gone, and the learning and assimilating of everything that happened is complete - but i still feel like this should see the light of day. the post shouldn't really have ended where it did (probably got distracted by something inconsequential and didn't come back to it, clearly), there's more to be said about my brother, and his strength (and own reaction) during it all. but i don't want to revisit this now...so here's the post as it was written way back when.
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i have a lot on the brain today. i feel obligated to post about our travels to costa rica because that would be next in line in the backlogged posts i owe this space (wierd...i owe a cyberspace something? not to mention that i think all of two people read it...) and although i loved the vacation and i had a wonderful time with jerry, my brother, tracy, jimmy and kelly, it's not what's foremost on my mind.
as it turns out i think i need to write about what happened on september 15th. in a nutshell, i was driving, dad was in the passenger seat, jerry and felipe were in the back of the car and we were broadsided by koreans in a sedan, running a red light on reforma. not fun. long story short, dad broke his arm in three places (thankfully everyone else was fine) and i lost it. i really lost it. i mean like, tie-me-in-a-straight-jacket-and-commit-me lost it.
i think now, almost a month later, i feel okay about the whole thing - chalking it up to experience and assuming that i've learned enough from the situation that i won't ever deal with an emergency situation like that again - but i'm not sure. there's nothing but my conscious mind and the willpower to be more aware next time to make that a reality (and god help me, i will try.) but i think a part of me still feels guilty.
it's a wierd guilt. i think i'm a little scared by how quickly i went from the perfect day with the three most important men in my life (we missed you mom) to a complete freakout. a part of me still mulls it over, and i try to recreate the whole thing and figure out what about the situation made me flip the switch. i know that a part of me freaked out seeing my dad become a defenseless bundle in the front seat of a car - it's particularly scary to see the man who you believe impenetrable and somehow immortal get hurt (jerry this applies to you too, but thankfully (knock on wood), i haven't had to cross that bridge yet). but i think another part of me needed or wanted to get angry - and that's what scares me i think.
i happened to find this post from way back in september of last year and i think i owe myself to post it. i definitely don't feel this way anymore - the guilt is gone, and the learning and assimilating of everything that happened is complete - but i still feel like this should see the light of day. the post shouldn't really have ended where it did (probably got distracted by something inconsequential and didn't come back to it, clearly), there's more to be said about my brother, and his strength (and own reaction) during it all. but i don't want to revisit this now...so here's the post as it was written way back when.
-----------------
i have a lot on the brain today. i feel obligated to post about our travels to costa rica because that would be next in line in the backlogged posts i owe this space (wierd...i owe a cyberspace something? not to mention that i think all of two people read it...) and although i loved the vacation and i had a wonderful time with jerry, my brother, tracy, jimmy and kelly, it's not what's foremost on my mind.
as it turns out i think i need to write about what happened on september 15th. in a nutshell, i was driving, dad was in the passenger seat, jerry and felipe were in the back of the car and we were broadsided by koreans in a sedan, running a red light on reforma. not fun. long story short, dad broke his arm in three places (thankfully everyone else was fine) and i lost it. i really lost it. i mean like, tie-me-in-a-straight-jacket-and-commit-me lost it.
i think now, almost a month later, i feel okay about the whole thing - chalking it up to experience and assuming that i've learned enough from the situation that i won't ever deal with an emergency situation like that again - but i'm not sure. there's nothing but my conscious mind and the willpower to be more aware next time to make that a reality (and god help me, i will try.) but i think a part of me still feels guilty.
it's a wierd guilt. i think i'm a little scared by how quickly i went from the perfect day with the three most important men in my life (we missed you mom) to a complete freakout. a part of me still mulls it over, and i try to recreate the whole thing and figure out what about the situation made me flip the switch. i know that a part of me freaked out seeing my dad become a defenseless bundle in the front seat of a car - it's particularly scary to see the man who you believe impenetrable and somehow immortal get hurt (jerry this applies to you too, but thankfully (knock on wood), i haven't had to cross that bridge yet). but i think another part of me needed or wanted to get angry - and that's what scares me i think.
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