And there, right there, the scales overbalance back in your favour ... as you no doubt expected they might. How reassuringly heartwarming, yet completely unpredictable.
At the risk of being a total twat, I'm going to elaborate a little, because, yes, I was pretty confident that these parts (and the people) could restore some balance but there's also work I have to do on my own side.
A few years ago now I was diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD).
It was a recent event that triggered it and with the help of an excellent therapist* was quickly brought under control.
What was fascinating to me was the process.
As I understood it, a traumatic event often doesn't get filed away properly in the filing cabinet of our mind. It gets flung in, the door slammed shut to float around the filing cabinet often popping up at unexpected times - the slightest connection can bring the "trauma file" front and centre.
What needs to be done is for the file to be taken out, studied, understood and then filed away properly. That way we don't come across it by accident or tangenitaly.
What that means in practice, is effectively reliving the experience with the understanding that now, in a safer environment, we can be more objective about the experience. This can help significantly with perspective and context, especially with older trauma.
Once perspective, understanding, context and whatever else is relevant is gained, then the file can be put in its proper place.
And that's what I did with this gun experience. I took some time, quiet time, to reflect and remove all the "excitement" out of it. Then it could be filed away, more normally.
However, there's a second stage to this - or at least there is for me - and that is the difference between
knowing something and
feeling something.
I knew that my experience was unfortunate and rare and that there are many positive experiences every single day. However, I needed to feel that.
That was my goal getting out of the city and I was confident that it was achievable. I think the few days after Guatemala City prove that my confidence wasn't misplaced.
I wonder if my experience would be the same closer to home?
To emphasise the importance of the first step (and what has triggered this long-winded response) is that earlier today, walking a dirt track in the middle of nowhere I rounded a bend to meet a young man walking and waving a long, shiny machete. My first instinct was to smile and say "Buenos Días". Of course, I got a cheerful reply in return. My first thought wasn't trauma, nor was my first feeling.
Job done.
*I'll admit to being one of those who was sceptical of "therapy", however it happened at a time in my life where I was making changes and was open to new things.
Now, I take the attitude that if I had a troublesome knee I'd go to a physiotherapist, why not the same idea for a troublesome mind?