The tears have not stopped flowing. The waves of grief and anxiety continue coming, relentless, causing me to feel I am drowning in both. Now though a new emotion is beginning to take over as the tears come less frequently. And it is white-hot, unbridled rage. It bursts forth unexpectedly, and it is rocking me to my core. I don’t normally experience so much anger–I wouldn’t describe myself as an angry person. But now I am, so much so. And it is often undirected toward anyone, although there have been moments when I have felt anger at a few friends, family, or colleagues who seem to casually dismiss this experience or just ignore it all together and pretend like life is just going on as normal. As if no trauma has occurred.
I recognize that once people know I have lost my home due to the fire, responses vary considerably. People are uncomfortable, some laugh it off, others stay silent. Still others are curious, which often leads to somewhat insensitive probing. A few seem oblivious to the trauma its caused. A lot keep trying to find a “silver lining”–a phrase I’ve come to loathe in large part because these responses, while well-intended, tend to gloss over or not even recognize how I am feeling. Now when I hear the phrase I just tend to be mad.
I’ve also had a few people tell me our house was just stuff and it didn’t matter. And while yes, thank goodness no one in my family was hurt (the very idea makes me feel intense panic and a desire to know where all my family members are at this exact moment), it was not just stuff. It was my memory palace. It was a place filled with memories, love, laughter, loss, and so much more. I was also the family member that often was sent old photos to cherish. So many precious memories that I fear I will lose because my memory is not what it once was.
From the Ashes 