A Journey Back

On Saturday we're taking our first road trip in several months, having been cloistered up here in NJ and focusing inward. We have no choice this time, and of all places we're going back ... home? The place that had been home to us for many years, where we had gone to college, met our friends, had our children, developed wonderful memories. Only now, however, this place is associated with a whole lot of pain. And we're going back.

On Monday, Grace has an appointment with her surgeon, for her tri-yearly check-up for her clubfoot. We decided, at least for the time being, not to switch this doctor, for several reasons: he's one of the best in the world, he studied under Dr. Ponsetti himself (the clubfoot guru), he's known her since her birth, and it's a short trip for only a few times a year. When we left months ago, I had already made this appointment. I never knew it would be this hard to go back.

We're first traveling to the Lancaster area to visit Don's parents, since it's his father's birthday on Sunday. Then we will travel back to our former area for Grace's appointment Monday afternoon. I'm not too worried about Grace, although I guess there always is that little part of me that fears something is wrong. Is her foot developing the way it should? I have noticed that it turns inward, but is that just "normal" for her? Recently, in these warmer days of wearing shorts and little dresses, I've noticed that her right leg is considerably thinner than her left, and I'll have to point that out to the doctor. She tends to gallop when she runs -- is that just Grace being quirky, or is one leg shorter than the other? I know her feet are different by almost two sizes ... Yes, a mother's brain kicks into hyper-drive whenever her children are involved. As long as he says "no surgery" and "no cast" I think I'll be OK.

It's the other stuff that's subtly eating away at the lining in my stomach. Going back there. Driving down familiar roads. A reunion with great friends that will be so good yet so painful for me. A place that once represented my dreams, but now reminds me of dreams shattered. How am I going to do this? I am trying to talk myself out of all of this, saying I'm making too big a deal of it, but without my even thinking about it I can almost feel these things creeping into my soul like a gray mist. I don't want to go back. It's going to be too hard. Thankfully we don't have to drive past the church -- I think if I had to see that place I would completely fall apart. But her doctor is a mere 5 minutes away from that place and my mind is going to take off in a manner rivaling any space shuttle. I suppose this is my "exposure therapy," or as my counselor said in an email this morning, it's "anticipation anxiety." The area itself is benign; the reason for our trip is completely unrelated to anything that happened with that church over those horrible months. Going back to this theoretically benign place would be exposing me, in a way, without the pain or horror of confrontation with any of those people ... I don't know. It scares the crap out of me. Honestly. I think, if I have to name this, I feel intense fear right now.

It's funny. I guess when push comes to shove I'm not as healed as I'd like to be. I know, I know -- I have to give myself time. But in the moment ... ugh. Maybe we should ask the doctor if he has any contacts in NY that he could recommend ... or would that be avoiding the exposure? How often do you have to expose yourself until you cross that line into simply torturing yourself? Or on the other end of the spectrum, will this exposure in the end bring some healing? Plus some other stressful things are going on which are compounding the disappearance of my stomach lining ... this is going to be a long week.