I really wanted to go take a shower. But, I couldn't. How could I when so many didn't have water to shower in? How could I use up fresh water? Did I deserve a shower after getting a few moments of stillness while the kids played for and hour at a neighbors house? My basement wasn't full of muck. I didn't just loose all my valuable memories. No, did I endure a rigorous evacuation. No, we stayed home somewhat confident our house was high enough above the flooding creek.
Survivors guilt is something I have dealt with many times in the past. Being one of the "lucky" ones carries a burden all of its own. In the process after a terrific event, little or catastrophic, personal or all encompassing, every one goes through the stages of mourning. Guilt, is the third stage after denial and anger. As one of the lucky ones, it is a challenge to move beyond feeling guilty that you have it better then someone else.
I watched a 30 minute aerial video to assess the damage to the town of Longmont. Earlier in the day, after opening a pad way near our home, we saw the plane swoop down over our head to land in the airport. I had thought it quite odd that the "jumper plane" (owned by Mile-Hi Skydive) was out on a trip. After watching the video, I under stood and looked for our car on the footage. At any rate, the speaker, as he looked down at a shopping area, remarked, "That is so odd that everyone is just going about there business like there wasn't a flooded river a mile away." This got me thinking. Why shouldn't we, everyone, be going about business? Shops still need to sell stuff, make money, and feed the economy. People still need to eat. In fact, owners and friend of Sugarbeet, one of our best high end restaurants in town, will be open for business as soon as the road is fixed up. according to friend's posts they fought tooth and nail, or sand bag and broom, to keep the space from flooding. Doctor appointments need attending. And, baby still needs formula.
So the question is, how does one deal with the quilt of getting out alive when eight families lost loved ones, hundreds still unaccounted for, and thousands of homes are lost or severally damaged. The first step, actually it is the fifth stage of grieving, is to accept where you are and what you have. Skip right over stage four, depression. Accept that you are one of the lucky ones and go take a hot shower. It's okay. With acceptance, you can release your guilt that tethers you like a brick on the string of a helium balloon.
I went to go take that hot shower but kept it short. In doing so, I was able to relieve my own rattled nerves and step forward. More over, I was better able to step back into my main role on this Earth at this time, motherhood. By finding my own thankfulness and rejoice, I could share my light with my children and elevate their own emotions out of their fear of uncertainty.
Today, we decided we need to help those less fortunate then us after the flooding. I had one appointment to bring bins over to a church. The bins are used to shuttle stuff out of basements to be washed and saved or ditched. The church had moved their volunteer site to a house closer to one flooded neighborhood. No one was home so we left the bins and continued along our way talking about plans for lunch. Then, I remembered a friend posting her father, and our dentist, needed help in his home in that neighborhood. So the kids decided everyone needs lunch. We would go home and change in our "yuckies", grab lunch at Wendy's, purchase fifteen sandwiches off the dollar menu, and go hand them out. The curbs were full of vehicles. Using our Jedi power, or luck, you choose, we found a spot right at the entrance to the neighborhood. With our waters and the sandwiches slung on our backs, We ascend the hill handing out sandwiches. We head towards 1159. Upon our arrival, we receive quizzical looks. The family we thought we were helping was not at the residence. We shrug it off with a grin. Must just be where we are supposed to be. They put us to work. The kids shuttle cleaned items up the stairs to the "clean room". I help the grandmother of the house locate a tarp and find small tools that are laying about. Everything is laying about. I take a second to head across the street with the sandwiches to the food tent. There, I find that family we were intended to help at 1156. Oops. Returning back to the other house, I find the kids happy and helpful. We finish our assigned jobs of moving things from point A to point B and head a Ross the street. There, we are given the assignment to help bring ruined stuff from the basement in bins to the middle of the culdesac. We put on two gloves and a mask. Everyone is covered in mud. Men are pulling muddy things out of the basement. Women and teens are carrying the bins back and forth. I carry one bin with the kids and a small Christmas tree before we decide this type of work is not for us. After washing up, we head over to the tent on the front lawn with the aunts. There items deemed washable or setting out to dry in the sun. After a toothbrush cleaning, the ornaments and knock knacks are shining like the day they were purchased.
What felt like a full day was only a few hours. My brain toyed with the guilt again. Did I do enough? What a wimp for getting out of the dirty work. Should I come back tomorrow? I just don't feel like I did enough.
"Mommy," Daughter says as she clicks her seat belt, "I feel really good about what we did today." All the clouds of guilt were pushed away. If you find yourself on the better end of a crisis, find your acceptance, be grateful. and move forward. In stepping out of the stuck places in your head, you open the door to do what it is you are supposed to be doing on this Earth.
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