Before Monday, I was rallying. I was starting to get my mojo back, feeling much better about things. My strategy was to focus on small things that were happening so that I could see things moving forward. This helped to ease the general feeling of hopelessness that would creep in some days. So I noted the smoothed roads in my suburb, the fact that we finally had flush toilets, that we’d be moving into a new office soon.
Then Monday happened, a 5.7 and a 6.3 magnitude earthquake. More liquefaction, more flooding, more broken streets. Making a dash across town to gather my family at home. No power, water. And no flush toilet. It breaks my heart.
My first thought, when I stopped long enough to think about it, was that I’m angry. Thoroughly pissed off. Again?! We have to do all of this AGAIN?! Before Monday I was getting a level of acceptance of how my life has changed, now I’m just mad. At what? I don’t know. And that just makes it harder. Not nature. Not god. This is just a random event. There is nothing to get mad at. But I am anyway.
I know that underneath my anger is fear. The more of these destructive earthquakes we have, the less secure I feel. I lay in bed the other morning, woken by a strong jolt, thinking … “is there going to be another? Will this be ‘the one’? …”
Those thoughts don’t last long. I can’t live with them in my head for long. But I resent that they are there at all. I should be able to trust the ground underneath my feet. I should be able to take for granted my power, running water, flush toilets. I shouldn’t have to listen to children developing a new vocabulary that includes ‘liquefaction’, ‘magnitude’ and ‘munted’.
I know I’ll pick up and move on, but right now I’m just angry.