Dear Friends,
The other night I went out with girlfriends for a rare night out since the fire. It was so delightfully “normal.” We met for dinner, saw a free concert at an outdoor mall, shopped the summer sales, had tea on the sidewalk and listened to more music. I bought my first skirt since the fire (I now own one skirt!) and it was a perfect summer night. I relaxed. We all lingered, relishing each other’s company and the warm summer air.
Around ten o’clock we decided to call it a night. I drove home with the windows open, marveling at the sweet smell of summer flowers that drifted into the car. I stopped at a light, inhaling the delicious night air, thinking, “Well, my year in town really hasn’t been so bad…” when the sound of a siren broke through the night and a fire truck raced out in front of me, heading in the direction of my new, temporary home. I instinctively stomped on the gas, chasing it, my mind racing. “Oh my God, what if my house is on fire? Oh my God, Nellie is home alone. Oh my God, did I ever get that renter’s insurance? Oh my God, this is why I should never buy anything ever again – it’ll just burn up. This is why I should never, ever leave my house…”
I chased the truck and at every turn toward my house I thought, “Please don’t turn here,” and of course it did. I was certain that my house was burning, that Nellie was inside, that all was lost, again…
A half block from my house, on the very last turn, it went the other way. I pulled over, in a state of sheer panic, all the magic of the evening lost. I was shaking. JesusGodAlmighty. It took a few minutes for me to catch my breath, and start the car again. I drove home, ran into the house and hugged Nellie as the sirens fell away into the distance, off to another burning house.
As you know, I’m not a fearful person. I’ve hitchhiked around Europe and sailed around the world and done more stupid, scary, risky things in the wilderness than most people I know. I was raised to always expect the best, not the worst, and to hold the fearless precept that Everything Will Be Alright, No Matter What. When I faced down an enormous grizzly bear in Alaska, after it popped out of a willow grove and trapped us on a small beach in Glacier Bay, I thought, “Well, this might be the end, and if it is, it’s been a really good run.” I was scared, but I didn’t feel the sheer panic I experienced when I saw that fire truck flash by me, towards my house.
There is fear, and there is fear, and then there is the irrational vice-grip of PTSD. It comes out of nowhere and grabs you and shakes you, hard. And no matter what’s going on in your head, your adrenal system takes over, stomps out any rational thought that you might be trying to hold on to, and starts shouting in your ear, “WHOOP WHOOP PANIC PANIC RUN HIDE ALL IS LOST THIS IS THE END OH NO OH NO OH NO…”
Finally you get a grip on yourself, calm down, and wonder what the hell just happened. Was I really just chasing a fire truck? And for God’s sake, how long am I going to feel like this? I don’t know how long, and I’m not sure what I’m going to do about this. There is therapy, of course, and I have a list of people to call. Another list. More calls. More damage control. How long, I wonder, how long?
For most of us, it would have been just one of those wonderful summer nights with friends – great food, beautiful music, and then, a siren that wails off in the distance. We hear it, we wonder for a moment, and then we shrug it off. “It’s not my house that’s burning,” we think. “It just can’t be.” And then we go back to our conversation, our friends, our perfect summer night.
I wonder, will I ever feel that way again? Will I ever be able to hear a siren and think, “Oh no, not me. Not my house.” Not my house. I wonder.
I think that probably all of us who have been smacked by the Great Hand of Disaster wonder, at times, how much we will really mend in the end. How much are we changed, how deep does the damage go, and will anything ever be the same again? Which scars will be permanent, which will fade, and which will we caress in our old age, with a wistful smile, and think, “Ah, I earned this one…”
When our lives are cracked open by loss, we can only keep going – there is no other choice. But the sirens wail, and we jump at night, and wonder “How long? How long?”
Wishing You a Peaceful Summer Night, Sweet Dreams, and No Surprises,
Andi and Nellie
You may not shake the PTSD fear anytime soon, but I know you to be fearless in many other aspects of your life. You wear the cape, Wonder Girl!
Thanks Laurel! Now I’m off to leap a tall building in a single bound… 🙂
Andi,
I don’t know if fear goes away, but I do know from my own experience with frightening events that it becomes and smaller part of our lives, or our memories.
Andi,
I know exactly what you are going through having my neighborhood go up in flames(underground gas pipe blew up) three days after your fire started. Mine was compliments of our local Gas & Electric Company(PG&E). Eights lives were lost, 38 homes burned down and many houses were left damaged like mine. It has almost been one year and four homes have started their re build which is a very long process as you might know.
I know life as I knew it before September 2010 will never be the same… I do suffer from PTSD along with my partner and many of my neighbors. Like you when I hear sirens I pause and sometimes have to calm myself down telling myself not my neighborhood. The house next door to me is pretty much gutted and under construction for major repairs. I have construction all around me and any noise out of the ordinary I have to pause…..When my house creaks/settles.. I pause. We have a lot of wind more so now as all the trees that buffered the wind are gone. I did not sign up for this. I tell myself that it that in a few years my neighborhood should all back to normal whatever that will be.
For me I take mini trips(long weekends) away from my neighborhood to keep my sanity. I am not looking forward to the one year anniversary as it will be a media circus around here not that is isn’t already.
I will be in Denver over Labor Day weekend this year as I was last year. Wishing you all the best in your rebuild and starting a new chapter in your life.
Marla Shelmadine
San Bruno, CA
Marla, Thanks so much for your correspondence. I still have that vivid image in my mind of you flying over the Fire last year, and then experiencing your own fire such a short time later. As they said in the Wizard of Oz, What a World, What a World! We’re so lucky that there is so much beauty in this world- it helps balance out the craziness of life.
I’m going to go stare at the cold, foggy ocean for a week, and contemplate the opposite of fire for a while. I think it will help.
Have a safe and wonderful time here in Colorado for Labor Day weekend. I hope you get up over Trail Ridge Road or to another part of the high country. It is magnificent up there!
All the Best,
Andi
So true! I still feel anxious when I see an ambulance or hear a fire siren. It’s just under 3 months for me, so I imagine it’s going to take some time before I get over that.
Shoshana, I’ve been enjoying your own fire blog. Thanks so much for sharing your experiences with me, and with the world. We are indeed members of a club that we never wanted to join! Take Good Care, Andi