Day 51: Art Therapy

Drafting this post in my head earlier today, it felt like I could make it short and brief, but who am I kidding to think that brevity has any rightful place in my life? So buckle up, or hold on, because the description that goes with this photo may contain boringness and you may fall asleep and bang your head on the desk if you're not careful.

Today my therapist asked me if I could journal it. And I was already forming this idea in my head of what I wanted to do, so I told her I didn't think I could, I didn't want to put that kind of negativity into a book that I carry around with me every day. And now that I'm home, typing this, (I have yet to take the photo that I've got in mind, the right characters aren't available at the moment) I sort of understand why I've been experiencing a craving to take this picture. I'm feeling caught between different emotions, going back and forth between being really, really angry and then realizing in the scope of things, it's not that big of a deal.

So I asked the therapist if I should just try to forget about it since no resolution is likely to come of things. On the drive home it occurred to me that forgetting about it or wrestling with the anger aren't the only two options. I need to put it into some concrete form so I can wrap my hands around the experience and shove it into place. I just need to get a hold of it, find it a good home in my psyche and get on with things; things that I'm supposed to be doing, like packing for the beach vacation, mowing the lawn, cleaning all the dog beds and anything else that might have fleas on it.

So here is my attempt at Art Therapy. This is Zach in the Civic, asleep, with Sabine on his lap, grabbing the wheel, at a pretend rest area.

This is why we were at the rest area: We went to visit long, lost friends for a few hours in NYC on Sunday. We took every wrong turn that was possible getting out of the city and that is why at 1am Monday we were still traveling and not yet cozy in bed.

This is why I needed to take this photo: Because someone else at that rest area decided it looked funny and took a picture of this scene while I was inside getting coffee. Except I was already on my way out and was right behind her when the flash went off. She saw me, my brain registered what just happened, her brain registered that those funny people belonged to me, and she went running inside.

This is what happened next: I took a split second to look back at Zach and see what she'd been taking a picture of, then turned back around and yelled, "Hey! Did you just take a photo?" If the bitch would have stopped running I could have just said, "Would you mind deleting that, please?"

My yelling that to her woke Zach, who opened the door for me and I shoved the hot coffees into his hands. I grabbed Sabine because he didn't have any hands left, and yes, someone just took a picture of my baby so my protective instinct made me hold her to my heart. Zach asked what happened and I said, "She just took a picture of you!" When I said that out loud I realized what I had to do. Not because I am particularly brave, or because I have a tendency to stand up for myself, I am neither of those. But because I am damn stubborn and will be heard, but the bitch kept running, so she left me no choice. I still had Sabine in my arms so in I walked with her.

My sister doesn't think that I should have confronted someone with my child in tow (an actual CPS worker), but I seriously had no idea it would become a confrontation. The silly little girl was embarrassed and so she ran, once I met up with her I assumed she would delete the photo at my request. Also though, I was not going to leave Sabine in the car with Zach, who was just coming to.

I waited for her little black flip flopped feet to emerge from under the stall for a good five minutes. When she came out I politely said, "Excuse me, can I ask you a question?" When she ignored me I moved a little closer and started again, "Excuse me, did you just take a photo of my family?" But this time she didn't let me finish, she starting yelling at me very loudly, so that everyone would hear. "Did I take a picture of your baby?! Of course I did! You left your child alone in the car!" She started walking away from me, and I yelled back that I did not and that she was well aware of the fact that I didn't leave my child alone because she saw my husband in the car with her and that's why she took a picture. We were in the lobby by now and everyone was watching us because she was yelling louder.

At this point her 'male companion' (who I like to think of as Ass Hole Boyfriend) came along. A lot of this is a blur in my mind now because I was having such heightened emotions. But she kept yelling the same thing over and over again, and I was not backing down. I think she wanted to embarrass me, and normally I am VERY concerned with how I look to others, but I honestly didn't care because my outrage was so great. And I think that she was proceeding with such indignity, that other people could tell she was the antagonist in the situation. Things went on like this as we moved toward the door (because she wouldn't stand still and face it like a decent human), and that's when she thought up the idea to declare she works for CPS.

Not for a second did I actually believe she worked for Child Protective Services because that's just a stupid thing to say. But also, um, no, if your livelihood is based on caring about endangered children, then no, you don't take a photo and run away. You call the police. You wait for the police to get there, you proceed with the situation calmy. And even if you don't work for CPS and you are just a concerned human being, then you still call the police and alert them that a child is left alone in an automobile. And then, when that mother you're screaming at asks what county you work for, and to see your identification, you hand it over, as policy dictates. You don't let your Ass Hole Boyfriend then get into the mother's face (the mother who is holding a 20 lb toddler) and scream at her. In her face. 2 inches away from her baby's face.

And that's what really bothers me. You don't act like that in front of a child. Me - that's one thing. You don't do that around someone's baby. And I definitely hope you never, ever procreate because God help those children. And it also really bothers me that she couldn't just delete the photo. Seriously, that is all I wanted. Not because there's anything 'incriminating' in it or because I thought Zach's skin was a little off color, or maybe I thought she could have gotten a better angle. But my child was in that photo. I seriously can't get myself enough into her shoes to figure why she couldn't just be a normal human, why she had to react so offensively.

And I know it's not that big a deal that she took a photo of my kid. It's not. But it's her reaction to my request and the way they harassed me that is what makes me feel so violated. It's everything after the photo, not just the photo itself.

I realize there are far worse things that happen to people, like actual crimes that are committed, and I'm not trying to put myself on the level of that kind of violation. That's why I'm writing this, so that I can get it out of my system and get on it with it.

And so getting back to the part where I attempt to make light of the situation, infuse it with humor and make it concrete so that I can grab a hold of it and put it away: You may have taken the photo Stupid Bitch, but I stole it from you in the end. And when you look at the photo and post it to your facebook account, you''ll probably have to look at your ugly face lit up in my car window's reflection.

You peeled away with your Ass Hold Boyfriend, but I got your license plate number:

BWF-8673