14Sep: walking away from heartache

As I ponder, 48 hours from my departure, and cannot pin down what I want from the Camino, my heart feels bruised. Yet again, my only companion in day life, my son Joe attacked me physically and emotionally. 

Yesterday morning, steaming coffee, tools and new catdoor assembly nearby while I was drilling the first hole, Joe flung the door open with angry face and aggressively grabbed at me and yelled at me to stop. He refused to acknowledge reason or for him to moderate his mood. In fact he escalated with a verbally abusive barrage about my "inability" to carry out work around the property as he saw fit. I asserted that I would fit the cat door at my next oppprtunity and he leered at me and left. I came off without feeling hurt, instead concerned about Joe's mental health, but honestly, I was deeply hurt by yet another emotional, verbal and physical attack. 

As usual I busied myself with other jobs. I got on, to salvage the remainder of the day as best I could. But, my heart was bruised; I was physically sad,  unpositive mentally, with low energy and with jittery thoughts. If I was a medieval soldier, I was marching about bewildered with a large weeping wound, pretending everything was OK. But I wasn't OK. This attack was a lifting off the scab of the wound from the last attack. The old wound not just exposed but added to, with the promise of further assault should I be so stupid to try to heal. 

So, that arduous coastal trek, my careful selection of gear for my camino kit, building good vibes, all slashed.  Yes, I have photos,  my kit is well selected, but the heart of the foot soldier has been wounded. He is weakened physically, he is mentally confused and emotionally shot. Again, he must repack his kit, sift around in the dirt and gather his things, apply bandages to his wounds, assume a powerful posture to ward off assault as best he can, and wall on. 

Am I flying 17000 kilometres, to walk over 800 more, in order to escape my son?