Staying with fear

So my nerves are getting the best of me. I expressed my labor fears yesterday. But the main fear I have is something I've struggled with for years. If I had to pinpoint when it started it was in 7th grade. My sister's best friend, Robin, was killed in an awful car accident. Because Robin had been someone that had become part of my little family--the guidance counselor took me to the office and told me. I fainted. My friend Erica was also in the office with me. Robin was also close with her family. It was a drunk driving accident. She was 18. She was not drunk, but got into a car with people that were. My mother, wanting to making a teachable moment, took me to see the car. She wanted to show me what can happen if you are drinking and driving. The car didn't look like a car. It had a HUGE impact on me. Unfortunately, a lot about the accident was shared with me. I won't tell you the details, but they were gruesome and awful.

The first "incident" came later in the year. My sister was in college and I knew she was on her way home. The KPL (gas man) came to our house...for some reason having his lights flashing. I saw the truck in the drive way and was certain that my sister was gone. I ran, screaming up to my mom's room and all I could say was, "Wendy...Wendy...." I was crying. My mom looked out the window and told me who it was. I was a wreck.

For years afterward, St. John had teenage death after teenage death--mostly car related. I knew these kids. I went to school with them. It just seemed like one shock after another. Erica's brother was in an accident in college--pretty awful, but he survived. When I went to the hospital, his father explained what it took to put him back together. I fainted. (I do that...I just shut down.)

Whenever Jason is out...I go through scenarios...you can imagine. Last year when Bill and Lynn died in a car accident--it just punctuated my fears. The policeman came to my door. I knew it was Jason. He'd just left hours before. When they told me it was Bill...it didn't register. I had just talked to them both that afternoon. They took me to see Melissa, his wife...who was in tears on the couch. She looked up at me with a confused look and said, "What is going on?" (She continued to repeat that throughout the night.) Yes, I'd had friends die...but I'd never gone through sitting with the family before. I sat with them for days. Watching each person come in...one after another, looking like squeezed out sponges. I'd only known Bill, Melissa and Lynn. They'd all just been at my house the weekend before. I was in shock. Then, seeing all that were affected was another shock. I didn't know what my place was...but I just kept coming and sitting in the living room each night. Out of the grief of this family, came such kindness. All who talked to me made me feel that it was perfectly natural that I was there. (Jason and I were the most recent friends.) But it was the initial night that I always go back to. It's the doorbell. It rang twice. The cop flooding my foyer with his flashlight. My hands shaking so badly, I could barely open the door. I am still awakened by a "doorbell." It isn't real...but I hear it. The guy that hit them was under the influence of drugs. (Again, the lesson is punctuated.) Melissa's house is visible from my kitchen. Each day I think of her, the remaining sister and their mom. I thought about it when I was looking at all of J's things in the bathroom today. "I wonder when she took out his things...has she taken them out??" The things that family has had to endure is too much for me to comprehend. (The accident happened Oct. 6th of last year...we are coming up on a year and the driver still has not been charged with a damn thing.)

I am plagued with worry and fears every time Jason is out of this house. Whenever my family is driving anywhere. It's almost as if I sit and wait for something awful to happen. It's no way to live. I contacted my therapist this week. Jason says I need to talk it through.

You've been my therapist today--I need to figure this out.