THROWN OFF BALANCE

I sobbed the rest of the way home.

I was already tired.  The walk was a "should" since I'd already skipped a couple of days walking when I have committed to walking most days of the week.  Two skips in a row is my max, so yesterday I made myself go.  It was sunny, a light breeze, the yards in the 'hood are full of flowers...no reason not to go except that I wasn't feeling great, it was late in the day, and I was really tired.

It was one of those walks that should have been pleasant but was actually a bit of a slog.  I was determined to get my 3 miles in but I was not enjoying it; at the over half-way point I was just head down, staring at the sidewalk, left foot, right foot, keep going.  And then my back spasmed.  It had been sore, but I had kept pushing.  Suddenly I was stumbling to the curb to sit, doing my best forward yoga bending to stretch out my poor seized up back muscles.  Hub massaged, I stretched, we rested for a bit, then I stood up and took off again, more slowly and feeling discouraged.

In a couple of blocks, as we walked along the mostly quiet street near our local elementary school, a car approached on my side.  I was vaguely aware, but not really paying attention.  I was right next to the curb when from the car a shout? a growl? a scream? erupted.  It was extremely loud and human, but also vaguely not human.  It was designed to startle and frighten, as some guy on the passenger side (age unknown, Hub didn't get a good look and I didn't see at all) leaned out the window and screeched his loudest most "horror movie" growling animal cry in my direction -- about 5 feet away from me.  My startle reflex was sudden and severe.  I veered away from the sound grabbing for Hub who grabbed me back as the car sped off.  Mission accomplished.

My "highly sensitive" traits are fairly pronounced around noise.  Loud, unexpected sounds are the worst.  This was the worst.  My nervous system went into shock and I started crying.  Then sobbing.  And trying to breathe.  All the while I was berating myself for not paying attention, for not seeing it coming.  I'm usually hyper-aware of my surroundings, but this time I was head down, just wanting to get home and rest my back. 

All the while I was also in a rage.  I was 12 again, walking the mile or so home from school  (I lived too close to qualify for the school bus in those days), and being cat-called by teenagers from passing cars, or the time an adult man pulled over and told me to get in because he was lost and needed help finding a street, or at the public pool at the park being groped by groups of boys coming up behind us girls to grab and laugh, or in high school being whistled at and shouted at on the street as the boys raced their engines of their stupid loud cars, or in a deserted college stairwell feeling unwanted hands on my backside, or dancing with a drunken medical school friend of my husband at a party when he laughingly decided to "examine" my breasts, or by a boss pushing up against me from behind in a darkroom as he explained how to develop x-rays, or another boss, much older, highly revered, and very sophisticated, grooming and coercing me into a situation I ended up literally running from when it dawned on me what was happening.  Each time I blamed myself.  Each time I was embarrassed and humiliated just because I existed.

This time I was a 74 year old grandmother with a sore back, and even with Hub at my side, some freaking asshole decides I/we are fodder for his entertainment.  I was a random nobody, a vulnerable recipient of his bullying bullshit on a quiet tree-lined street on a sunny Thursday at 5:30 p.m.  I'm sure he and his buddies got a big laugh about how my body jumped, how my hand flew to my face to ward off the assault, how far I swerved away from the sound and into Hub, pushing us both off balance for an instant.  So funny.

I sobbed for the younger me who learned that walking down the sidewalk, or being female anywhere really, made me a target of dominating toxic masculinity.   I sobbed for the "grandma me" who is no longer an object of sexual desire, but now just a "little old lady" to scare for a laugh.

I sobbed because my rage was so strong, so loud, so consuming that I had violent fantasies of my own towards every boy/man who ever treated me like a piece of meat; toward every man who has ever hurt a woman in any way; toward the guy in that car who had just found his pleasure in the verbal assault of a person he had never seen before, would never know, and had so little regard for beyond the momentary pleasure of frightening her.  I wanted to hurt him.  All of them.  And I empathized with those who have been victimized for so long and are so tired of the fear of being alive in an ugly world.

I sobbed all the way home, then sat on my sofa and cried some more and vented all these feelings, memories, and rage to Hub, who held space for that as he held me in his arms.  I took a shower and ate the lovely dinner Hub prepared.  I calmed and began to move on from the whole thing, a bit taken aback at my reaction.  But I did not hate or blame myself for that person's bad behavior.  Not this time.  Not after all this time.

I also thought about this: I was not hurt this time; some would just call it a prank.  But the threat of violence is never far from my mind anyway.  We have a president and a government right now that celebrates and enacts cruelty daily, a culture that is divided and angry, a gun loving element that worships the destruction that firearms bring to the point that multiple mass shootings (including of children) does not deter them from their "right to bear arms" at all costs.  When I am at a rally or lining the streets to hold up my "Defend Democracy" sign, I'm aware that people have driven their cars through crowds.  Some of us talk about the safest places to stand, how to get out of a crowd quickly.  Some of us have taken de-escalation training, and learned to scan the crowds for trouble.  It's insane.  This is no way to live.  No wonder for some of us, who have experienced the realities of being vulnerable just walking down the street, going to school, going to work, living our lives, are jumpy when the unexpected throws us off balance.

No wonder we sob all the way home.

At least, that's the view from here...©