Higher Places

I wanted to stay here. I really did. But... I feel myself drifting. I guess the only thing I can hope for is that my administrative hat stays on my head after I'm very dissociated. Why is this happening? Well, that's why I'm writing this. I want to share it with the whole freakin world before I forget. It started here:

Me: What about the fireworks display that we used to take the kids to in the mall parking lot?

He: They don't have that anymore.

Me: There's got to be somewhere left near us that does.

He: Only Hallelujah Land, but I know you don't want to go there.

Discomfort, little flickering images of the place and the way I felt the last time I was there when the mother used badgering, guilt and emotional blackmail to make me go. Other images. The mother using the same tactics to make me go shopping with her in her camper and all the crying, shaking and panic it caused me. The sick and twisted concepts of religion that kept me away from the truth of my life and circumstances. The panic attacks in churches because my body knew the messages there were poison. Earlier images. Picnics, the lake, the father's disgusting camper, the old hometown and the blanket of oppression. Not knowing the why of the earlier images but feeling wary and uncomfortable just the same. Blowing it off only to have it come back around. I tried to stay here. I tried to WANT to stay here. But I don't really want to.