Tuesday, November 8, 2011

NaBloWriMo Day 8

NaBloPoMo 2011

Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Has anything traumatic ever happened to you? Describe the scenes surrounding a particular event.

Well, sure. I'm pretty sure that something traumatic has happened to everyone somewhere along the way. Why would I be any different?

Of course, my definition of "traumatic" has probably changed over the years, from the superficial to the truly "holy crap that just rocked my world and not in a good way".

There are a couple of moments that make the highlight reel, though.

Age: 20
Location: On ramp of Sunset Highway, Portland, Oregon.
Specific Location: In the passenger seat of my Ford Ranger.
Scene: Arguing with my boyfriend after a really bad fight at our apartment wherein the police were called because the neighbors were afraid for my safety.
Traumatic Moment: He aims the truck at an electrical pole and speeds up. (No, my life didn't flash before my eyes. I was too angry to think.) At the last second (literally), he swerves and says, "You're not worth it."
Note: The knowledge that I was almost killed by stupidity is the traumatic moment, not the fact that he didn't think I was worth dying for.

Age: 37
Location: Minnesota
Specific Location: In our kitchen, at 2am, walking by the phone on my way to bed after fighting the good fight with a Powerpoint presentation and losing.
Scene: The phone rings, but I almost didn't answer it. I was still ticked at the PPT malfunction, and didn't want to talk to anybody. Then I realized, hello, it's 2am, and not a normal time for the phone to ring.
Traumatic Moment: Answering the phone and having a doctor in Oregon tell me that my Mom has died, and that he's sorry, they worked on her for 90 minutes, but couldn't revive her.
Note: The traumatic moment came when I realized that now *I* was the oldest generation in my direct family (if that makes sense). My dad had died when I was 26, and I'm an only child, so yep, I was it. It's an odd thing, that. Before, there was like this definite, I don't know...hierarchy? (not the word I'm looking for, but it'll work), and I wasn't at the top. I wasn't responsible for the family memories or anything. But then, all of a sudden, I was. And now I wish I would've asked more questions about things. Because now, I can't.

And that's about all the trauma I'm going to think about for one night. Now it's back to our normally scheduled blog.

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