I wish I were a Vulcan


Hello, Friends.

It has been a very rough couple of weeks.  My PTSD was majorly triggered – of all people who triggered it – it was someone that trusted.  I’m sure this man doesn’t even realize what he was doing, but perception is everything.  As a result – I am on day 5 of a miserable migraine.  Looking at what happened, it all seems so very begnign.  However, it has been miserable for me, and has allowed the evil to come into the one place there has never been evil before – my church.  I love my church, I love the people there, I love the Deacon that I work with teaching confirmation.  I adore the children.  I feel like I am doing something good, something that makes a difference.  I find “making a difference” to be the most important mission of my life.  Changing the world to be the best place that I can make it.  Even if that change is only in my little corner of the world.

It really seemed so simple.  My priest wanted to speak with me about planning an event during Holy Week.  I was very excited because my favorite thing in the whole universe is teaching.  I love to teach.  I would be doing one of my favorite programs, a Passover Seder.  It was confirmation retreat weekend and I always do a Seder for the kids, so that they can see the link between Passover and Communion.  It is a fun class and they get to sample foods that Jesus himself would have eaten.  They have a real opportunity to connect with Jesus and with our Jewish brothers and sisters.  He called me into his office to speak with him and promptly went to work on his computer.  I was sort of lost at what to say – but I talked about how excited I was and how interesting this program is.  I mentioned that I teach the kids a lot from the Old Testament and Judiasm…his response, “I know, I’ve heard…I talk to the kids, you know.”  Doesn’t that sound like the beginning of the sentence?  I sat waiting for him to say something else.  If the kids aren’t happy with what I am teaching them – I need to know so I can make changes.  If the Priest isn’t happy, I need him to tell me what I am doing wrong.  There was no other information.  I am always willing to take instruction – but all I got was cold, dead silence and a distinct feeling that I was failing.  Then, I explained that I needed an unconscecrated host – and that the woman in charge of church functions told me I could have one out of the refrigerator.  (For those who don’t know anything about the Catholic faith – a host is a wafer of bread.  It is just bread until the Priest blesses it.  Once it has been consecrated – it becomes the body and blood of our Savior, Jesus Christ.  However, until it is consecrated…it’s just a funny tasting, quarter sized piece of bread.)  Suddenly, his head popped up and he became obviously angry that I had been given permission to get this piece of bread for my class.  Now, the dear sweet kind woman who works her butt off for no compensation is in trouble – and it was all my fault.  Needless to say, I was heartbroken.  This woman is the mother to my husband’s best friend.  She has never been anything but kind.  In fact, she considers my husband like her own son, and she gladly “adopted” me when we were married.  This isn’t a woman who says, “I am a Christian” this is a woman who lives like a Christian.

The weekend continued from there.  I spent the whole weekend with the kids, acting as the chaperone to make sure the girls and the boys didn’t mix.  I was happy to do it.  The next morning, I sat lookout for the Priest to arrive at the church so we could bring the kids over.  (These are 16 year olds)  The Priest walked into the church and I said, “Good morning, Father.”  I got an icy stare and a “Good thing I was late!”  I explained that I was doing lookout duty so we could bring the kids over.  His response, “Whatever.”  (Our priest has three parishes that he goes to on Sunday mornings – so he is usually late to our church – because we are last.)

He told a story in his homily that morning.  About an angry, bitter woman who was always judging others.  She found out that Jesus was going to visit her and so she waited by the door for his arrival.  When she opened the door – an angry, bitter, judgemental man was standing there.  She asked who he was – and he said – I am Jesus.  The woman said, you are not Jesus.  He responded, “Yes, I am.  I am the Jesus that people see in you.”

There was one place in this world that SGT Jerk didn’t follow me…it was church.  I could kneel in the pew and find warmth, love, comfort and healing there.  SGT Jerk wasn’t allowed in the doors – there was only peace for me.  Jesus would speak to me there – he would hold me there.  I could leave all of the pain and the fear at the door and just exist.  Now, SGT Jerk is standing at the altar.  He is preaching from the ambo.  He is touching the sacred communion with his dirty fingers.

I am on the 5th day of this migraine.  I don’t have the sick leave to take enough time off to feel better.  At the same time, I can’t just drop out of life.  I can’t lose myself just because this one individual.  It isn’t just because he is a priest.  Maybe it is because he is a priest.  I have been blessed – I know a lot of priests…In fact, I have 3 of them in my speed dial and I consider them good friends.  They are all good men – caring men – they love the people they serve.  They would rather die than break a heart.

My VA Provider has been kind enough to prescribe me some Xanax…it does wonders on the migraine!  I appreciate the fact that she believes me when I say that I have to cut the anxiety to kill the migraine.  I took two Vicodan on Saturday night and it didn’t even touch the pain.  However, the Xanax has actually allowed me to rest, sleep and has reduced the terrible tension in my neck and head.  The headache is still there – but it isn’t as crippling – as you can see from my posting today.

I am getting ready to curl in for the night.  It is early, but the more I can rest the better I can feel.  The medicine allows my racing thoughts to stop.  I hate that feeling of trying to crawl out of my skin.  It is impossible to crawl out of your own skin – but the desire is almost a compulsion!  I am watching one of my favorite shows…don’t laugh at me…Star Trek Enterprise.  I’m a big fan of Star Trek in general – but I really love Enterprise.  Probably because I would run away with Scott Bakula any moment of any hour of any day.  He is my favorite actor!  I figure it is because he almost always plays characters that are good, decent, kind and moral individuals.  I watched him in this one movie, In the Name of the People, where he played a serial killer about to be executed – and he still seemed really decent.  I am most fascinated with T’Pol and Spock and all of the other Vulcans.  What a nice thought – the ability to completely repress all emotions.  To feel nothing.  Nothing would ever get to them, they wouldn’t feel they were a failure, they wouldn’t feel hurt or pain.  They wouldn’t suffer from a 5 day migraine just because someone was cruel or thoughtless.  They would have no idea what PTSD is.

Yup – I think that in my next life…I want to be a Vulcan.  (Besides – T’Pol is really HOT – just ask my husband 😉

Peace be with you –

Joan

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