Letters from NYC

Hollow

I awoke this morning to the wonderful scent of fall leaves. I left my bedroom window open overnight just enough to be awakend by the first rays of sunshine this morning and have my bedroom filled with the promise of a beautiful new day and the incredible scents of fall. My spirit has been heavy all week. It was a long, hard, intense work week where I visited 4 states in 3 days – leaving early each morning and returning home each night just in time to spend a bit of time with my son, reading him a bed time story and tucking him into bed.

At the same time, there was a major warfare going on inside my head between the demands of managing my role of advisor and conciliator and a past that's filled with violent painful memories that dogged my every quiet idle moment.
The internal warfare was so intense that yesterday morning while standing alone in a conference room preparing my presentation with my back to the door I hadn’t noticed that someone quietly entered the room. When they placed their hand near the back of my neck, slightly gripping my neck, I reacted swiftly, instinctually and not of the present moment. When I finally realized what had happened I had him in an arm lock with his face and chest pinned over the conference room table. It was not a pretty sight.

It seemed that in my reaction I had made enough noise to draw the attention of 2 secretaries and the security guard. I apologized to everyone explaining that I had been attacked at a work site before and since there was no one around when he put his hand on my neck I thought he was an intruder. They remained silent and kept an eye on me as they helped me pick up papers and chairs and straighten out the room. One thing’s for sure, that guy will never ever touch a woman he barely knows in such a familiar way again. At least he’ll never put his hands on me again. Apparently, I hurt his knee in the process because when the meeting was over I saw him limping out of the conference room. This situation also reminded me never to sit or stand with my back to a door, especially in the headspace I’m in.

The only thing that helps when I’m in this head space is being around nature. So I’ll be leaving shortly with my son to go 90 miles north, to a headless horseman’s house, where the leaves on the trees are beginning to change their colors. Maybe if we’re lucky we can find some crisp delicious apples to make a fresh baked apple pie tonight. Just that thought makes feel a bit human again.