17 years later
So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing. - T.S. Eliot
Thank you to my friends and family that reached out to me yesterday, via text, and messages. I spent the day in silence, away from media. I don't want to see all the pictures because I can still see them jumping and hear them hitting the concrete. So please understand.
I am grateful to be alive. I am alive because on that day, I was scheduled to work a later shift and therefore was not walking through WTC to catch the subway when the jets hit. I am alive because, the WTC fell straight down while my building across the street shook violently and I hit the floor in a state of shock and panic. I am grateful to be alive.
Yesterday I cleaned out the studio while uploading my music as part of my fall-fling before our summer move. I only logged into FB to upload items for giveaway on our local BN page. I stayed away from FB feeds.
When my son returned from school he told me that some kids were making jokes about 9/11 and it made him very upset because, while he doesn't know the horror of my experience, he knows that I was there - right there - when it happened. He doesn't know about the debris cloud so thick that I could not see the hand in front of my face, and thought I was either dead or buried alive, that I had to feel my way out of my apartment. He knows that I'm lucky to be alive. I am. And I don't take that for granted.
While I have made great strides in healing over the years, part of me is forever changed. I still awaken from deep sleep if I hear a plane. When I see a low flying plane I have to catch my breath. Specific chemical smells, and loud noises are a trigger. I still keep a mini flashlight in my bag. There is a flashlight hanging on a doorknob on each floor of our rental incase the power goes out. I don't enjoy flying. At all.
For a long time thereafter, my psyche felt as raw and as stinging as my skin felt from the sandblast of debris when the second tower fell that left me completely covered in gray soot from head to toe.
Much has healed since. For better or worse, I am no longer afraid to say what's really on my mind. I am grateful to be alive and I will keep living it fully as I am able. I will make memories for my son. I will take my dinner to the lake to watch the bats at sunset. I will drive to the path of totality to watch the eclipse. I will climb the mountain for perspective. I will gather the friends for winter solstice. I will look for more excuses to make s'mores. I will make cool stuff with kids. I will grow blueberries on my deck and lemons in my kitchen. I will learn the names of the critters and plants who introduce themselves to me. I will immerse myself in the conversation until I know which bird is speaking, even with my eyes closed - like when you wake to voices at a family gathering and you know that voice in the kitchen is your great aunt. I will make the cakes that look like moss, and necklaces from spider silk. I will give what I can, when I can. I will say yes, and no and feel all the feels, and howl with the wolves. I will stand up to bigotry of any kind, and I will sit and listen when you tell me your story.
I will share with you the words that come, and I will keep for myself the words I choose to.
Made so & rooted by love,
Wendy
*This journal entry is dedicated to my friend, Linni, who passed away one year ago. In one conversation prior to her parting, we talked about my experience on 9/11 and how we must preserve the stories so they are not forgotten. She said, "I promise that I will never forget what happened to you on that day". That she left her body on the morning of 9/11/2017. There are no coincidences. Her spirit will always be with me on this day.
Thank you to my friends and family that reached out to me yesterday, via text, and messages. I spent the day in silence, away from media. I don't want to see all the pictures because I can still see them jumping and hear them hitting the concrete. So please understand.
I am grateful to be alive. I am alive because on that day, I was scheduled to work a later shift and therefore was not walking through WTC to catch the subway when the jets hit. I am alive because, the WTC fell straight down while my building across the street shook violently and I hit the floor in a state of shock and panic. I am grateful to be alive.
Yesterday I cleaned out the studio while uploading my music as part of my fall-fling before our summer move. I only logged into FB to upload items for giveaway on our local BN page. I stayed away from FB feeds.
When my son returned from school he told me that some kids were making jokes about 9/11 and it made him very upset because, while he doesn't know the horror of my experience, he knows that I was there - right there - when it happened. He doesn't know about the debris cloud so thick that I could not see the hand in front of my face, and thought I was either dead or buried alive, that I had to feel my way out of my apartment. He knows that I'm lucky to be alive. I am. And I don't take that for granted.
While I have made great strides in healing over the years, part of me is forever changed. I still awaken from deep sleep if I hear a plane. When I see a low flying plane I have to catch my breath. Specific chemical smells, and loud noises are a trigger. I still keep a mini flashlight in my bag. There is a flashlight hanging on a doorknob on each floor of our rental incase the power goes out. I don't enjoy flying. At all.
For a long time thereafter, my psyche felt as raw and as stinging as my skin felt from the sandblast of debris when the second tower fell that left me completely covered in gray soot from head to toe.
Much has healed since. For better or worse, I am no longer afraid to say what's really on my mind. I am grateful to be alive and I will keep living it fully as I am able. I will make memories for my son. I will take my dinner to the lake to watch the bats at sunset. I will drive to the path of totality to watch the eclipse. I will climb the mountain for perspective. I will gather the friends for winter solstice. I will look for more excuses to make s'mores. I will make cool stuff with kids. I will grow blueberries on my deck and lemons in my kitchen. I will learn the names of the critters and plants who introduce themselves to me. I will immerse myself in the conversation until I know which bird is speaking, even with my eyes closed - like when you wake to voices at a family gathering and you know that voice in the kitchen is your great aunt. I will make the cakes that look like moss, and necklaces from spider silk. I will give what I can, when I can. I will say yes, and no and feel all the feels, and howl with the wolves. I will stand up to bigotry of any kind, and I will sit and listen when you tell me your story.
I will share with you the words that come, and I will keep for myself the words I choose to.
Made so & rooted by love,
Wendy
*This journal entry is dedicated to my friend, Linni, who passed away one year ago. In one conversation prior to her parting, we talked about my experience on 9/11 and how we must preserve the stories so they are not forgotten. She said, "I promise that I will never forget what happened to you on that day". That she left her body on the morning of 9/11/2017. There are no coincidences. Her spirit will always be with me on this day.
posted by Wendy at Wednesday, September 12, 2018
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