I'm in my hometown of Fairfax, VA for a couple of days. It feels good to be out of New York for a little bit. I'm hoping that time away will help me calm down so I can come back to the city with a new perspective.
It's been a week and I'm tired of thinking about it. I'm tired of talking about it. I'm especially tired of talking about it because talking to other people is my escape from thinking about it. It's constantly in my brain pulling at my attention. Mostly it's because I'm worried about having another panic attack and trying to avoid putting myself in a position of being scared again. Then I think back to what happened and how it could have gone differently, both good and bad. How I could have fought back or how I should have shut the door in his face or thrown the money away from me or screamed or asked if he had a weapon or taken a cab or if he had tried to touch me what I would have done or if I was shot what I would have done. A million different scenarios have gone through my head and the only way to keep them at bay is to get involved in something else.
Busy Busy Busy.
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