Today -- and for the last few weeks -- I've been having flashbacks of the two miserable years we spent at our last church. I've had weird little run-ins with people I associate with that time and seeing them brings back vivid episodes of dysfunction.
This morning my husband mentioned talking to some people from that church and I almost immediately became morose. By the time he'd left for work and my oldest was on the school bus, I could feel the dark mood closing in. I felt an intense urge to eat, cry, or go to bed and sleep all day.
Thank God for the mental wellness to see that and to find an alternative. I called a friend and asked to spend the morning at her house. My two younger kids and I went there and by lunchtime I was good as new. The mood had passed. The rest of the day was balanced and pleasant.
What a distressing bout of crankpot-ism. We've been gone nearly a year and I hardly think of that place or those people anymore. The shape of my life has much to do with what happened there and I've (mostly) accepted that. I have not accepted the emotional intensity those memories still hold.