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...going to have to get back to you on that one.
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| The gully gave way behind the once beautiful house. |
It has been about two months since our last post. Well, my husband's last post. I started this one on June 17, and obviously was not able to finish it. Today is July 17. I do not know what to say except that since April 16, 2016, I have no idea what I am doing anymore.
On Pandora Radio listening to: "Under Pressure" by Queen (with a little help from David Bowie)
The song seems appropriate.
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| Too damaged to pass inspection. It will be torn down. |
We will just call it, IT. If you read Stephen King, you will know that IT is just as terrifying.
The first two weeks after it happened I felt a certain amount of shock was normal. Expected even. I did my best to keep the shock in check.
Try to be normal. Try to move forward. I said these things to myself every day. I told myself everything was going to be okay.
A month after it happened, I noticed my "shock", or whatever it was, was not subsiding. The day I started writing this post marked two months. Yup still there. Somewhere in the back of my mind I kept thinking ever so briefly, "PTSD". I associated PTSD with soldiers returning from battle; victims of violent crimes; children dealing with death in the family; etc. So that cannot be what it going on with me.
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| Remains of beautiful blue windows from nearby house. |
I am acquainted with a few counselors, therapists and psychiatrists, both socially and professionally. I used to work at a women's center, which is how I became acquainted socially with several counselors. But here is the thing about that line of work. Two words. "Absolute Confidentiality". They never discussed clients, and I never asked. So I do not know a lot about the various types of mental illness and how they are diagnosed.
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| A long time passed before we could walk the beach again. |
I finally contacted one of my counselor friends. P.T.S.D. (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder). Right on the mark. Damn.
She helped me as much as she could given my location. Actually she helped me a lot. She researched and sent me information on free online books about P.T.S.D, online support groups and therapists, etc. There are even support groups that you can Skype with.
Everyone knows at least one person who suffers from a mental illness. It is an illness that is hard to understand if you have never walked in those shoes. It is not something people like to talk about. If you have a broken leg, it is visual. The pain is something people can relate to. If you say, oh by the way I suffer from, (fill in the blank), people do not know how to respond or act towards you. Yet the person with the mental illness is in pain and suffering just as much as the person with the broken leg. Just think about it the next time you meet someone who has Depression, Anxiety Disorder, Bipolar Disorder, P.T.S.D., or any other form of mental illness.
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| Looking down from the hillside to Crucita |
As an extremely introverted person, I analyze everything. Always have. Always will. I know I am getting slightly off topic but it seems important for you to know that I thought about the changes in my behavior for the past couple of months.
What were some of those changes?
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| Crucita fishing boat waiting to go back out to sea. |
Separately, they seemed insignificant at first. However, the more of them I recognized, the more they seemed to start sticking together and forming a black hole in my mind. It was like pieces of me were disappearing. I am sure I sound crazy at this point, so here are some specific examples.
I started to forget details and events completely. No recollection at all.
Following a major earthquake, aftershocks are normal for two to three months. I had to look this up. I have no prior experience with earthquakes so I did a lot of research. It was necessary in order to get through the days (and nights). But I was not able to look any of this up the first week after it happened. Yes, we had intermittent electricity starting around day 3, but we did not have WiFi for a week.
We live near the ocean. Every time the wind blows, the doors and windows rattle, and I jump out of my skin. Why? Because it sounds and feels like the beginning of an aftershock.
Those aftershocks came. I read the other day that Ecuador has had over 2,000 aftershocks since April 16. The aftershocks that I only vaguely remember learning about in school. The only reason I remember the first week of aftershocks we experienced, is because every time one happened, I wrote it down in one of my notebooks. I had no idea of the measured intensity, since I had no access to any outside communication. All I could do was write down the time and describe them. I am not even sure why I was doing this, except that I thought that if there was some pattern, I would see it and know if they were going away or getting worse.
Every day ready to flee.
Nightmares. I did not really dream about the earthquake. I dreamed about tsunamis. Almost every day. I still do occasionally. Thankfully the dreams are getting better.
How does that tsunami dream look? I am on the third or fourth floor of a building, standing in front of a large window that overlooks the ocean. I am sure this building represents my house but looks nothing like it. It is night as I stand in front of this window. But darkness does not stop me from seeing the wall of ocean water coming towards me. It is taller than the place I am standing. I do not move. I do not yell. I know it is coming and there is nothing I can do. That is my nightmare.
It is important to say that during this earthquake, we were never in danger of a tsunami. I do not know why that became my nightmare.
No desire to take walks anymore.
No desire to touch the ocean.
I stopped taking photos.
I forgot nearly every Spanish word I knew.
Every family member and friend wanted to ask me questions and talk about the earthquake. I did NOT want to talk about it. At all. Ever. But they wanted and needed information. So with my head spinning, I talked.
I wanted to do things to help other people here in my village or nearby, but I had absolutely no way to do so. I felt helpless. I felt even more guilty. I felt guilty that I was alive and my home survived.
My husband got an Earthquake App for his phone. It sends out an alert of earthquakes/aftershocks in real-time. So basically an alarm goes off as it happens. I hate that app. Every time the alarm went off I went numb. Every time there was a notification, my husband had to say it out loud. I finally asked him to stop telling me. I just could not take it any more.
Sleep is a thing of the past. Before the earthquake I was in bed and asleep early every night. I woke up between 5:30 - 6:30 am every day. Now sleep comes as the sun rises if I am lucky. Am I just afraid to sleep in the dark? I do not know. Am I ever going to feel happy again? I do not know that either. But I hope so.
It is amazing how things can change 180 degrees in the matter of 58 seconds. That is how long the earthquake lasted, 58 seconds.
Everyone back in the States asks us when are we coming home. Our response - we are home. But I would be lying if I did not admit that I miss those familiar people and places back in America.
Gertrude Stein, an American writer, poet, feminist, and playwright once wrote, "America is my country and Paris is my home town".
America is and always will be my country. I have called many places home in my life. Orange Park Florida, Newport Rhode Island, Elmira New York, Tallahassee Florida, Hollywood Florida, Gadsden Alabama, Atlanta Georgia, Jacksonville Florida.
Right now Crucita is my home. If I am lucky, I will have the chance to call other places home as well.
I have no idea of what the future will look like. I know what I want it to look like. But that is going to take some time and a lot of adjusting. Until then, I am just waiting for my compass to point north again.
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