This morning, something happened to trigger the trauma, but I don’t know what it was. I’d asked the taxi driver to switch off his music, which he did, but left the ‘tablet’ showing the video. I asked him to switch that off too, and he got annoyed and I had to explain to him (a) that he should do what makes his passengers comfortable and (b) that I have a condition that makes the lights and movements on the tablet difficult. Then he said something else, and I said something, and he snapped, ‘Where do you want to go? I’m trying to work!’ and I decided to get out of the taxi.
I was so shaken that it took me two hours to get the adrenalin down and to get back to (very gentle) working order. But what was it that he said that shook me? I don’t know! It had disappeared from my memory before I got back to the house. That’s why I think it was that thing, rather than his general nastiness, that triggered the traumatic response.
I don’t think that what he said was particularly nasty – it just resonated with something else. And my mind didn’t like it and has hidden it away somewhere. Perhaps it doesn’t matter. But perhaps, if I could retrieve it, I could learn something important.
What a comfort to know that the Lord knows every thought in my head, even if I don’t know it myself!