Flashbacks

Free graphic courtesy of Pixabay.com.

I just heard the sound of yelling and slamming doors outside my window. As I peek through the curtains, I see the new neighbors across the street. He’s about to drive away. She comes out the front door, gesturing to him. He gets out the car, they stand toe-to-toe, obviously exchanging heated words, then go back inside the house. I assume their little girl is inside the house.

All of a sudden, the feelings come surging back – anxiety, vigilance, fear. My chest feels tight and my head pounds. I’m on high alert, ready to grab my baby out of her bed and flee. All of those emotions – even though I’m perfectly safe. 

In that instance, I’m drowning in the hopelessness and helplessness I once felt.

I fear what could be happening behind that closed door – projecting what I’ve been through onto what’s happening across the street. I hurt for the little girl – pray she’s asleep and blissfully ignorant of what’s happening outside her room.

I don’t know what’s really going. Perhaps the wife did something and the husband is justifiably angry. Maybe he never gets upset, and this is a rarity in their marriage. I don’t know. My feelings for them could be misplaced and my understanding of the situation could be wrong. But, that doesn’t stop the flashbacks.

And, it doesn't stop the realization that I still fear it could happen to me – and to my daughter – again. I could choose poorly again, I could allow us to be subjected to that life again. I have the power, the potential, to place us right back into those same circumstances.

So I hear my heart whisper, “Never again. Never again will I allow that happen. Never will I trust another man. There will not be a next time. It isn’t worth it.”

Yet, I know that isn't fair. To live overshadowed by fear is not truly living. And it’s not the life Christ has called me to. Perhaps I never will remarry, but it needs to be because that’s what I feel God is leading me to do. It needs to be because I’m choosing the live the best life possible. Not because I’m afraid.

Progress is being made. My heart is slowly lowering its defenses. Learning to dream again. Hope again. The past year and a half hasn't been without improvement. Yet there’s still so far to go.

The truth is – I want to love again. I want to be loved. But love requires vulnerability. Love opens the gates to pain, and fear, and disappointment. You can’t have one without the other.

So, I sit in my chair. Continuing to jump at sounds from outside. Glancing out my blinds every little while to look across the street. Trying to calm down by reasoning with myself – pointing out that I’m fine and my daughter is fine. All the while, still wondering, when will the flashbacks stop.