9/11 Revisited............................

This is a paper I wrote for my writing class, one year after 9/11. On today, the fifth anniversary, I decided to share it with all of you. I am one of those old enough to have grown up hearing the words, "I remember exactly what I was doing the moment I heard President Kennedy had been shot." I am sure that everyone reading this has heard simular words spoken regarding this tragic event. This is what I recall from that day, September 11, 2001:



Journal Entry # 3
9-17-02

Remembering 9/11

I awoke to my alarm, getting out of bed to begin my day. A greeting by my daughter, wearing her "I Love New York" T-shirt, was my first reminder. About twenty minutes later, going outside to put some papers in my car, I noticed that someone had placed flags in all of the yards up and down the street. I was compelled to walk to the end of the driveway and spend a moment drinking in the symbolism. That was the start of my day, one-year after 9/11.

Reminders continued as I arrived at my office to find a newsletter containing information to give clients, regarding 9/11 – related depression. Soon after heading out to my first client’s home, at exactly 8:46 (the time the first plane crashed into the north tower), the radio began to play Mozart’s "Requiem " as part of a continuing concert from around the world’s varying time zones. After listening to this for a minute or so, something compelled me to change the station. No matter what station I turned to, all were playing something patriotic. At that moment, alone in my car, I felt an overwhelming unity with the rest of the world. My thoughts began to drift back to the day responsible for this unity, last September eleventh.

The brilliant blue sky, with the occasional cotton candy cloud floating lazily by, along with the warmth of the bright sun combined to make the perfect fall day if ever there was one. I was driving from my first client’s home to my next client when I heard a bulletin on the news about a plane crashing into the World Trade Center. At that time, the speculation focused on it being an accident. Of course it was! Who would ever have believed what we would soon come to know as the truth? I think of it as our nation’s last moment of innocence. Innocence soon to be shattered, by the ugly horror of the second plane making contact with its target, as the eyes of the world looked on. The news was coming in about the second plane at just about the same time I entered my client’s home. I remember sitting stunned, watching as they played the footage again and again. Still trying to make sense of it, I pretended to go through therapy activities with my client.

I went on to my third client’s home. By this time the enormity of what was happening really began to sink in, and I was finding it hard to keep any portion of my mind on my job. I felt a desperate need to touch base with my family, and make sure they were all right. Not that I was worried about their physical safety, but rather concerned about how they were dealing with the emotional assault being delivered into American homes via network television. I re-scheduled the rest of my client’s and headed home. On the way, I called my husband and asked him to come home as well. He works for County government an hour from our home, and I was beginning to have all kinds of irrational fears about our safety and the possibilities of additional attacks.

I stopped for gas on the way home, not because of any panic, but because I needed it. It was early afternoon and already there were long lines at the pumps. The length of these lines alarmed me and I suggested my children fill their tanks, as a precaution, when I arrived home. Twenty minutes after I had stopped to fill my tank, the price had already increased by seventy-five cents a gallon, and the wait in line was approximately forty-five minutes. Panic spreads fast!
By late afternoon, I had all my little chicks safe at home in the nest. The question remained, what do we do now? I sat transfixed in front of the television, watching the same footage over and over, hoping for some small piece of reassuring news. None came. The rising death counts, along with the enormity of the devastation, became hard to watch. At the same time I found it impossible to turn off the television. Each report being broadcast seemed worse than the one before. It was impossible to make sense out of all the confusion. I went to bed that night, still searching for answers, the television continuing its gruesome reports long after I had dozed off.
In the days following, life went on as normal, and yet things were different. I continued to get up, go to work, and come home to my family, even as I carried the pictures of the now demolished World Trade Center in my head and in my heart. Once the ban was lifted on air travel, I began to notice low flying planes that before would never have entered my conscious thought process. Not only did I notice them; I would watch their direction of flight, wondering if they were friend or foe. I am a self-proclaimed news show junky, but over the next several days my intake of news increased at least ten fold.

A couple of weeks after 9/11, the scraps of information had been pieced together and shared with the nation, and my outward calm composure finally gave way. I was watching yet another news show, this one about United flight ninety-three. At the end of the program they began to show pictures of the passengers, one by one, a seemingly endless portfolio. After about the tenth picture the tears began to flow. By the time the fortieth picture flashed onto the screen my tears had turned into a full fledge out-pouring of sadness, pain, and rage. There would be additional feelings of fear and anger to work through, but the healing process began as I watched those faces flash onto the screen one by one. The healing process continues still, but over the past year I have come to realize many things.

The rescue efforts began a sense of participation in the recovery, developed through donations of time and money, and helped us all to move forward towards that recovery goal. We were not alone in our pain, so we were more easily able to reach out to others. Both to heal and be healed. 9/11 brought not just individual reactions of horror, but a collective reaction as well. These actions, violating human consciousness, made the collective minds of our nation feel violated. Life was uncertain before 9/11, and will continue to be uncertain in the future. What is important, is how we rise up to meet these challenges of uncertainty, both as an individual and as a nation. Instead of focusing on the fear of the unknown, we need to live life with a focus on fulfilling our purpose. Choose to respond rather than react. A response comes after careful consideration of your choices, and is grounded in both steadiness and balance. A reaction comes from a foundation of fear, uncertainty, and a sense of separateness.

It is important to spend time with yourself. Sit quietly each day and reflect on life and the consequences of daily actions, striving always to increase positive contributions; while, at the same time, reducing negative ones. Look for opportunities to pull out of the rubble. Work together for the collective peace of all nations. Each one of us has an obligation to protect not only peace, but also freedom.

For me, September eleventh two thousand and two ended as it had the previous year, with me drifting off to sleep while listening to reports regarding events of a year ago. As sleep closed in on me, I reminded myself that while change can be hard, change presents an opportunity for growth, and growth is always good.