So, I’m at the grocery store. It’s time to get groceries and other provisions for my family. This grocery store is huge and it’s where I need to shop for many of the items my family uses on a regular basis. I can’t find that stuff in smaller markets. Well, I’m in the parking lot of the grocery store. Ever since my PTSD made a come-back three years ago, the Super stores have created panic in me. I’d love to hand this job over to my wife, but come-on, I’m the stay at home mom. This is my job.
So things are not as bad as they could be right now…I have the car door open. That of course is totally perturbing people who want to park in the super close to the store without being a handicapped space that is next to me. My keys and bank card are in my pocket. I could just get out and walk to the store. But first. I have to orient to safety (JM’s words). Nothing has ever happened to me in a store. Breathe, Patty, Breathe. Breathe in pink (my favorite color), breathe out black (my least favorite color)….courtesy of MT. Most people are good…even if your parents were not. Look all around. Look at the people. Nobody is being unsafe. There is no chaos (well except for the little old ladies who run over my heels with their grocery carts). I think I have bad karma with little old ladies….they don’t like me. One time on a ship, every time we stood in line for something, all of these frail looking, little old ladies with their pure white hair would whack my ankles with those canes that were supposed to be supporting them. Okay. Now I’m laughing. Panic/anxiety is dissipating. Guess it’s time to go shopping. Thank you for sharing this PTSD moment with me. Have a good day!