Isn't is scary where we were 7 years ago and where we are today? This is not about politics or oil or war. It's about where we are mentally and emotionally. Today, as I was driving to work and the radio station took a moment of silence. I felt the tears well up but I would not let them fall. Why is that? Was I worried about ruining my make-up? No, I don't wear much of it. Was I worried about coming in with red, puffy eyes? No, I could careless. Why was it I couldn't cry? Why did I feel the need to hold back? It wasn't that I didn't feel emotional about the day. Then it finally hit me, I was confused; confused about how I was supposed to feel.
Today, after the work day is done, I am going to sit and think about what made me confused and why. I will also remember all the people who have given their lives for our country from 9/11 to the present. I will mentally thank each and every one.
5 comments:
it's a powerful day
and it's bound to bring up all kinds of conflicting emotions
It is SO big that seven years later I think more people choose to just not think about it except when "the" day rolls around once a year.
All of the people that lost their lives and are still loosing their lives to this day.
I'm still not sure what to do.
I, for one, still feel profound sadness, and quite a bit of anger. It's just such a helpless and out-of-control feeling that I'm not too comfortable with.
First, you can't just quit taking Prozac! You have to wean yourself off, but you know that right?
Second, I wrestle with anxiety and depression and it is a tightrope that I balance with a tremendous cocktail of meds every day. Without the meds I can't stand all the emotions that flood over me.
I have a phenomonal amount of break-through highs and break-through lows despite the meds and it is during those timeslots that I do some of my best writing.
Sometimes the thought of the unmedicated me is quite liberating and other times it is terrifying.
Twice I awoke out of a dead sleep and ran off to my then two year old's bed and caught him mid-air as he was attempting to climb out of his crib. He's almost twenty-seven now.
Twice I awoke out of a dead sleep and ran off to my then three year old's "big bed" and caught him mid-air as he rolled out of the bed. Yup, caught him before he hit the ground. He's almost twenty now.
I'd love to feel those feelings again that vibrant, that intuitive, that degree of clarity. But I can't because with that comes dark feelings, too. The inability to get out of bed for days, not showering, binge eating.
I have chosen to live a numb(er) and less vibrant and uncolorful life. I am still the first one to laugh and the last one to stop clapping, but I blend in better now ;)
I finally wrote my experience on being in NY on 9/11. It's something I've never really told in much detail. It feels so amazing therapeutic to work through all of those memories and emotions and finally share what happened.
Post a Comment