When All Else Fails...

This last week has been the most hectic week.

On Tuesday, I left my house at 6:00 in the am to be in Arlington for a court hearing regarding the revocation of my license due to an accident I had almost a YEAR ago. I arrived TWO freaking hours early, so I drove from the courthouse until I found a coffee stop. I grabbed me a coffee and a slice of marble cake--what I consider a delicious breakfast.
As I sat in the waiting area for an hour, waiting to be called in to see the judge, I started to think about the reason I was there--"black out while driving at unsafe speed, yet under the speed limit." Then I began to think about the wreck. . .the trauma. . .the mystery that still surround the entire incident. . .and the reason I blacked out.
Then I really started thinking about the reason:
"If only he hadn't taken my baby girl. If only my mother-in-law hadn't participated. If only I'd stayed gone and not come back to him."

Then the thoughts that followed:
"Should I really be feeling this anger again? Should I be mad at him? Did he REaLLY have the right thoughts when running off with her?"

Then, a break. A man across the room began telling everyone why he was there. He too was there to determine the revocation--or not--of his license. Except the reasons were completely different.
The two ladies sitting across the way. . .must have been mother and daughter . . . seemed way underdressed for a court appearance. But they seemed calm. Or at least the daughter did. She was in scrubs with braided pig tails. The mother was wearing a tight cotton shirt putting on her bright red lipstick. At least three coats. Before she added her powder, she spazzed out in her chair, while her daughter comforted her.
Then my phone rang. It was my husband. I answered. He just wanted to see if I had been in to see the judge. I answered, and he said he was praying for everything to work out. We said our "love you" 's, then hung up.
"What if God wants my license suspended or revoked? "

As I thought more about the wreck, how I came to, buckled in on the passenger's side, how NO ONE witnessed my car do at least two cart wheels before it landed upside down, how the first person to see it was a paramedic from--of all places--Amarillo, TX. The place I was headed to. And the final thing I said to Jason before he took off with my baby.
"I can't be with someone I can't trust not to hurt me again."

And then the thought:
"How can I be with him now? For all I know, he could hurt me again. Kill me. Try to take my sweetie from me again."

As I looked out the window to my right, down to the lower level outside, I noticed an older man walking with a cane. A whirlwind came and blew his ball cap off. He tried as quickly as he possibly could to stop it with his cane, but it blew further down the sidewalk. I quickly sat up in my chair, feeling helpless for him. . . Then a young man came up from the opposite way, and caught his hat, blowing down the pavement, and walked to the old man and gave it to him. In that moment, I felt a smile come across my face. A feeling of reassurance: that I can't help everyone, but someone will. Someone, somewhere. . .
Then in walked two women. Another mother and daughter. The mother dressed as though she was dressed for Casual Friday at work, long hair in a french braid, and a little bit of lipstick. The daughter, hair dyed black, dressed in a black suit with pink pin stripes obviously from her thinner days. She was wearing a pink backpack. As they walked by, a man sitting at the table in front of me, called to them. The daughter said, "Mom, this is my attorney." They took chairs on each side of the man sitting at the end of the table. I could only see his back. As the women sat down, the daughter pulled a PSP out of her backpack, and began playing it. From overhearing their conversation, her dad was an attorney. Her mom spoke only of the past: past judges, past commissioners, past attorneys, past stories.
When they finally called my name, I slowly walked in to the court room, but held my chin up, so as not to show fear. . . I followed the bailiff to the lecturn that stood in the center of the floor facing the judge. A woman. How I hoped and prayed that she was a mother herself. Or at least had a passion for children. I stood there as she looked through her papers skimming over my case. She closed the documents, sat up in her chair, and crossed her arms onto the table area of her seat. She looked over at the two assistants and asked for more on my case. As they read off the details they had, I felt an urgency to give her the context of the incident. When they finished speaking, I addressed the Honorable Ferrell with somewhat of a shakey, yet softly-spoken voice:
"Your Honor, if I may, just give you a little bit of context as to what was going on at the time of my accident.
My husband and I were having problems and he had run off with my daughter, to Amarillo, TX, and I was heading that way to get her. Because of all the stress and emotions, I DID, in fact, have a panic attack, and I blacked out while driving. However, since then, I have seen a psychiatrist, and a therapist, and I continue to see my therapist as needed now. I am learning how to cope with stressful situations so that One: I don't cause harm to myself or others. But mostly, so my daughter never sees me that way again."

There was a pause in the courtroom. No more papers shuffling. The judge re-adjusted herself in her seat, and looked directly into my eyes. As I pondered what she might say next, and how I would answer, she said:
"Well. . . Did you get your daughter back?"

I breathed a sigh of relief, smiled, and said:
"Yes. I did get my daughter back."

Then she proceeded to ask me if I had a job and where. As I told her where, she told me she had a nephew who lived in the town. As I told her what I did, I began stumbling over my words, and she finished my sentence for me as she smiled. Then, the judgement I had waited for:

"I'm gonna say a negative on this case."

They called me to the stand to receive my paper for the dismissal of the charges, and the judge told me she had been in real estate for 37 years before she became a judge, and she knew how important an Administrative Assistant could be. She looked at me, and told me to get back to my work because my boss needed me.

I did just that.
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My next hurdle is my best friend's wedding this weekend. I'm not sure why I'm stressed, but I am trying to just be happy for her and him. They belong together.
Wish me luck!!!