I'm so over it...

...nearly dying that is. I mean, didn't I just blog wondering if I ever would get over it?

So Thanksgiving, I ate and was merry with my family until 2:30 when I left for work. It wasn't a bad day, more of a boring, frustrating day. My then work-friend, now blood sister had kind of a bad day so she asked me if I wanted to go out for a drink after work. I of coarse, said yes.

We were sitting at a table close to the door. My back was to the door, facing her and we talked and had a couple of beers. We were there maybe an hour when I heard a loud "pop". It didn't occur to me what was happening at first, but my blood sister's blue eyeballs were huge and her face was stiff and white. Things were processing very slowly for me at this point, and then it all sped up - kinda like in the movies. A very tall man with a mask started yelling at people to get down, empty your wallets, empty your bags, and was hoping around the bar like the crazy carck-head he probably was. I saw my blood sister emptying her wallet and so I emptied mine and we left everything for him at the edge of our table so he could grab it easily. I closed my eyes and folded my hands and slid down toward the ground and tuned everything else out around me. I must've sensed that he was closer because when he yelled "get up" I was terrified that he was talking to me. Lucky for me, but not for her the grabbed the girl at the next table and used her as a shield to get out of the bar. I was in another place until my blood sister said "tell me that did not just happen". I asked if he was gone because I didn't want to talk until he was gone and then everyone and everything started moving around me.

People ran to the door to lock it, started hugging, checking on others, demanding drinks, even smoking in the bar. I turned around and saw the bullet hole in the ceiling like 3-4 feet behind me and my body just shook.

We were stuck there for what seemed like hours afterwards, shaking, and giving statements. An officer took our statements, but said we couldn't leave because some detectives might come. I texted my BFF while my blood sister and I talked about going home and crawling in bed with one of our kids. We agreed that was all we could think about. We also both knew that once we got into our cars, we would break down.

Besides the 4-6 police officers, like 9 detectives came in. They took us to their cars one at a time and took our statements. When I saw that it was after 2:30 I called Bryan and told him I'd be home whenever I could. I really didn't see very much because my back was to him and my eyes were closed. He was tall (and he probably seemed taller because I was terrified of him), had a dark coat, a black hoodie, and a white face mask. That's all I could remember. I'm pretty sure he was black.

Finally I got to my car, and the tears started flowing. I couldn't wait to get home. I wanted to crawl in bed with Skye. I rolled in around 4am. Bryan was up and interrogating me. I didn't want to talk about it, I wanted one of my babies in my arms. Nevertheless, he kept asking me questions (even tho I already told him everything) and rather than "comforting" me, he quick became an annoyance. I kept repeating that I didn't want to talk about it, that I was tired, that I wanted my babies and he kept following me around with a flashlight...ok, ok, not a flashlight, but you get my drift. Like clockwork, River woke up. I carried her to the couch and wrapped myself around her. Bryan was made because he couldn't fit next to me so there I was smooshed between the two of them - him with his questions and her with her sweet smell, like a good and evil sandwich. He kept adjusting himself and finally I told him to go back to bed. He said "I'm trying to comfort you" and I told him that I'm not comfortable or comforted, I couldn't even stretch out my legs. I felt like he was trying to comfort himself more than me.

I didn't sleep. I was up from 7am Thursday mornig until 8pm Friday night. I didn't eat. I had a salad Thursday night around 6:30 and didn't eat until around 6:30 Friday. My muscles were sore from shaking. My stomach felt like any contents would come right back up if I ate or drank anything. My head was pounding. I just wanted to sleep. Finally, I did. I slept for 13 hours. I'm feeling a little better, but I really haven't left my house yet. I'm hoping my memory loses this memory along with all the others.

So feeling like I might die is getting old. Very, very old.

I should mention that the jackass didn't take our stuff. He didn't even take the cas that the bartender put on the bar for him. He grabbed one purse and some guy's necklace.