Friday, July 6, 2012

Grocery Shopping with Guns

I'm jogging while pushing a carriage through the grocery store. I'm repeating my grocery list over and over in my head and trying to remember the number of items I came to get. Milk. Juice. Creamer. Wow, am I really coming all the way down here for liquids only? I only then realized that I was up to 4 cups or more of just coffee throughout the day, not including the various amounts of other drinks I consumed instead of eating.

Eating takes too long. I have better things to be doing anyways, like cleaning or unpacking. Eating only makes me feel sick to where it probably won't even get to be digested before I throw it up. The medication does this to me. Sick some days and good the next. I can't even be consistent.
See, now I'm thinking about other things instead of the shopping list. What was it? Milk. Creamer. (We always need milk and creamer, so when it doubt grab milk and creamer) Uh, what were the other items?
Oh, look new Dunkin' Donut Coffee! It's on sale too???

Focus Elizabeth. Ok, I was quickly dodging people, promotional displays, and buggies down the asiles as I grabbed only what I needed off the shelves, without looking at anything else so as to not be tempted to buy anything else. Shopping is a weakness of mine.
I'm stuck behind this slow and unobservant walker who is oblivious to the fact I'm trying to get around him while he hogs the whole asile. I never look him in the face, if we make eye contact, I'll only size him up to see if I could take him which in turn will cause me to sound bitchy. He clearly hasn't found what he is looking for and is just aimlessly pushing the carriage along side him still taking up the whole asile. I slow down to match his speed, and try to looking at the tomato sauce to look like I am not being a bitch and following on his ass.

He's still slowly walking down the asile away from me. I decide to hang back with the tomato sauces for a bit longer until he's on to the next asile. I like to move fast through the grocery store but I like my space more. Especially since one of the items on my list was deodorant. I don't need some stranger watch me pick out my deodorant. Is it just me that finds it kind of creepy when someone watches you like that?

This guy, there's something familiar about him. From the back? I never saw his face. It was his stride! It was exactly the same stride that Kyle had. It was more of a cool guy swagger, with his hands shoved in his pockets and ignoring everyone around you as if they don't exist.

That's all it took for me to be sucked back into my memories.

I could see Kyle now, pushing the carriage in front of me while scratching his chin as he looked for something and nothing at the same time. He paused and shifted his weight onto his back foot just as I had seen him do millions of time before. His moves and actions were very predictable because he was so consistent.

Kyle shoves his hands in his pocket frantically trying to get something out. Instinctively I duck down behind my carriage for fear that I didn't understand why I had. I know this isn't Kyle in front of me but my mind is telling my eyes what they are seeing and I cannot control it. I try telling myself that I am in control but it sometimes doesn't work. I let myself slip into the memory and go with it. It'll be over soon. They always are.

Just like that, he pulls his hands out of his pockets. There's the gun. His fathers revolver. I'll never forget what it looked like. Mother of Oyster handle. Silver. Shiny. Always Clean. Never touched! Never touched! What is he doing with the gun? It's never to be touched! Never to be touched!

He looks me in the eyes as he puts the gun in his mouth. He closes his lips around it and pulls the trigger. A lot pop goes off and in an instant the asile is covered in blood. I fall to the floor further onto my knees and hug my stomach. I'm shot with the same emotions I was when I first experienced this memory. I'm in shock, immobile and stunned.

I hold myself tighter and try to focus on the smells of the grocery store I'm currently in. I don't smell the blood and gun powder. I smell cardboard boxes and industrial floor cleaner. It smells like a grocery store. It does not smell of blood and gun powder. I clench my eyes shut behind my sunglasses which I sometimes wore as regular glasses because they were prescription and I was sometimes too lazy to switch.

I open my eyes and the guy at the end of the asile continues to look aimlessly at the products in front of him. Luckily he's oblivious to the fact that I was hyperventilating quietly on my knees in front of the tomato sauce. I pretended to move jars around like I was searching for a specific one just in case he decided to glance over. My heart is going to beat right out of my chest and sit next to the tomato jars. I'm seeing little dots all around me and my vision is dark despite my sunglasses.

I counted the jars. Organized them in their right spot and tried focusing on getting the tomato sauce jars to look neat. Breathe in. Breathe out.

Sounds silly but this is the best way to get my mind out of dreamland. Organize. I've been known to have an anxiety attack and decide to organize my wallet. I know I sound crazy but getting my mind on a specific task is easier then trying to come up with something else to distract yourself with.

I just find things to clean. Doesn't matter where. I'll clean your house if it'll make me feel better.

This is a constant battle for me. I have tried for years to control it but sometimes it's completely out of control. My mind has it's own mind. I just learn to cope.



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