On Saturday my cielo and I went to a new breakfast place in the neighborhood. Nice place, bright, cheery, packed. We perused the delightful menu, ooh and ahhing over the yummy-sounding breakfast and brunchy offerings, and the low prices.
I had a hankering for biscuits and gravy. A nice serving of fresh biscuits and white gravy, with a side of scrambled eggs and sausage, sounded good.
But I'm afraid of gravy, and here's a few reasons why: We had gravy in jail. For breakfast Sunday morning, we had something resembling gravy -- a beige greasy liquid with bits of what I assume was sausage -- poured over what I assume was wheat toast.
I didn't eat it. I ate my frosted flakes and poured the leftover milk into my coffee.
A few weeks later, I was out for brunch with a friend and ordered biscuits and gravy along with my eggs and hashbrowns. When the server set the plate down, I noticed that the gravy was the same color, with similar bits of sausage. I recoiled inside. But I did not want to offend my friend, who was excited to take me to a favorite place. So I took bite after bite. The taste was all pepper. A mouthful of black pepper. I don't particularly care for pepper (which covered the hashbrowns, too), but there is more to it than that.
Now, also in jail, we were given lunchmeat sandwiches for several of the meals (OK, all the meals but breakfast...I was in there a long time...). Most of my sandwiches were pickle and olive loaf -- greasy, but ok. But the last one I had, the meat was essentially pepper held together with fat. Ugh. I could only stomach a couple of bites (thankfully, I had little appetite while in jail).
So, now I am afraid of gravy. Will it be a nice, light, white, flecked with only hints of pepper, maybe some nice bits of sausage? Or will it be beige and scary and full of pepper? There is no way to know.
So on Saturday, I did not order the biscuits and gravy. Because I had never been there before, I did not know what I could expect. So I had something else (which was quite yummy!).
It occurs to me as I'm sitting here that perhaps what I need to do is go to someplace like Cracker Barrel, where I know the gravy is trustworthy and delicious. Perhaps that would help me to heal from my fear of gravy.
But fear of gravy isn't the only thing still lingering, now almost 5 months later.
- 2 Sundays ago, I was driving to church alone. A car turned out quickly in front of me from an cross-street -- a police car, it was. As soon as it was in front of me it slowed down; behind me another car pulled out quickly -- another police car. I was boxed in by police cars. I kinda freaked out -- my heart started to pound and I had to remind myself I was safe. I was relieved when I turned for church and they kept on going their merry way.
- Arms/hands/shoulders still hurt. My right thumb, I think I can finally say, is no longer numb. But my whole right arm is still a mess. I am so tired of hurting.
- My sleep still pretty much sucks. I dream almost constantly, it seems like, which I think means I am not getting deep sleep. So even when my dreams are reasonably tame (not hyperkenetic or anxiety-ridden), I'm still not resting.
- Turns out the SWAT team that arrested us "lives" at the park two and half blocks from our house (and about a mile from school). The park where we like to go feed the ducks at the pond and take walks around the golf course. I had been thinking I might join the gym there, but now, no way. It makes me angry that the people -- the men -- who were so violent to us are so close (JT ran into the officer who threatened to break her wrist at our favorite coffee shop). The other night on the way home from school, we saw a couple of squad cars and a paddy wagon pull into the parking lot there. My cielo had to remind me to breathe.
I don't think a trip to Cracker Barrel will help those, though...