Healing

Five years ago, not today but close to it, disaster entered my life. While my home was not directly affected by Hurricane Katrina, Katrina was the storm that led the way. As the storm barrelled toward the eastern Gulf Coast, I was preparing for a much needed vacation. My plans were for some time at Mom's, followed by a visit to some friends in Austin. Gasoline prices were heading upward and money was tight, so my goal was simply a break from the ordinary in a fiscally responsible way.

Thousands of people were fleeing westward, and my church members were helping as best they could with the organizations that were helping the evacuees. With so many people flooding into the Beaumont area, it didn't make sense for me to come home and add to the confusion. So I ended up watching in horror as Katrina hit the Gulf Coast, causing massive destruction, and then as the people of New Orleans were in a life and death struggle with the floodwaters from the levee system breach. I aided as best I could from my perch in Houston; however, it could never be enough.

Still stunned by the devastation Katrina left in her wake, a few weeks later, I left on a trip to a meeting in California. From my Sacramento hotel room, I made phone calls to church members, talked with Mom as she debated evacuation and what to do with my two critters she was critter-sitting, and watched helpless and in shock as Hurricane Rita came to shore, ripping through our community and causing more massive destruction.

Upon returning all the way home, I found my house had been visited by one of my friendly backyard trees wanting to get away from the whipping winds. Restoration took almost two years, more because I couldn't get contractors to bid on the work than because the damage was that severe or that the insurance company wasn't supportive.

From the point when Her Horribleness (Rita) came ashore, one of the characteristics of PTSD has been prominent in my life: during hurricane season, I've been hypervigilant about tropical waves, tropical depressions, tropical ANYTHING, and have found myself constantly checking the National Hurricane Center website and the Tropical Update on The Weather Channel during every waking hour.

That is, until this year. Don't get me wrong. I still check the National Hurricane Center daily. I still watch the Tropical Update on The Weather Channel. However, if I miss one, I don't get antsy. If there is something to report in the Atlantic tropics, I can calmly assess it, see what the projections are, and then go about my business ... mostly.

There is healing in this. It is completely appropriate to watch for and be prepared for potential hurricanes. Yet it's good to know that watching for hurricanes in the Gulf is not the only thing I want/need to do. Recovery from disaster takes time. I just never realized how much time.

Five years! And I believe I'm just really beginning to get on the other side of the chaos. True, there have been two hurricanes in the area since Her Horribleness roared through town, one of them a rather nasty character. It's certainly given me a better perspective on how we deal with catastrophic change and how long it may take for true healing to begin.

Oh! Gee! It's almost 50 past the hour! Guess I'd better get today's fix of the Tropical Update. But then, I'll probably be good to go until tomorrow.