Sunday, March 16, 2008
I tackled a fear yesterday, which I knew was coming, but was trying, hopelessly, to avoid. My brother came into town this weekend and he and his girlfriend suggested that we go play paintball. I wasn’t scared about playing or shooting someone else or getting dirty for that matter- just getting shot myself. The great thing was that I technically did not get shot- in other words in the world of paintball, no paint actually burst on my clothing. Now, I remember getting “hit” by something and it stung a little, but the adrenaline is pumping in you so hard that you soon forget. Then I got home. Got in the shower. And noticed this large whelp on my right thigh- red from getting hit and showing the signs of a large bruise forming around it. This morning the purple is in full force about 2” in diameter. Not to mention that my whole body feels like it was thrown 50 feet by a mack truck. I rolled, yes rolled, out of bed this morning when my brother left to drive 14 hours back to St. Louis. Thank God these two play paintball all of the time, because there is no way in hell that I could have gotten in a car and driven 14 hours after the day of abuse that we had yesterday. Oh and thank you lovely people for making my weekend so fun!