Scars

I realized tonight that I have allowed myself to look forward. I have maybe fooled myself into a false sense of security as I have done before, but it has been...peaceful. Possibly I should not have watched Dateline tonight, but I have a habit of looking back and wanting to see if I have grown or changed from life circumstances. What I am realizing is that in the few short years we lived in San Diego, I was dealing with trauma. Some may argue it was somewhat self-inflicted - my house didn't burn down and my daughter was not murdered. But...it sure felt like it. It felt like I lost my home and I certainly could imagine what it felt like to lose a daughter.

In at two hour Dateline tonight - that I chose to watch - I realized that even after moving 1200 miles away, the scars will always remain. Rehashing the events of Chelsea King's disappearance and murder reduces me tears all over again. The violation that I still feel, miles away, is as fresh as it was on February 25th. The anger is overwhelming and I am completely unable to move on. Maybe that is not true. I have tried to move on, but the fear is real.

The reminder that both Chelsea and Amber Dubois deaths were preventable outrages me. Are my children safe? Who can I trust? These are questions I have not thought about or asked for the last two months. But as I watch the story recreated tonight, I remember those emotions and those days. I can still hear the helicopters circling our neighborhood and remember the gray gloomy skies with a foreboding sense of doom. Oh how I wish that I could go back to before that day. Or maybe I would wish to go back before the fires. All I know is that the more we have...or maybe it is the more we cherish what we have, the more we have to lose. Which then reminds me that none of it is really mine. I suppose that is a whole 'nother blog post. I just know that my scars will go with me wherever I am. I can try to ignore them, but I think sometimes - at least for me - it is beneficial to remember them. I can't help but look at my little girls and think of Kelly King tucking Chelsea in when she was seven. What if I only have ten more years with my little girl? I want to cherish and savor that time. I don't want to spend it fearing the what if. And that is just maybe the point where my scar rips open - because I don't know how to escape that.