“Time heals all wounds.”
I believe this is true – for the most part. Call me impatient, but I keep waiting for this flood thing to be OVER. There are always mile markers after a tragedy or celebration. One month, six months, a year, five years… At this six month marker, I don’t think I’m alone in feeling that we’re still pretty much in the middle of it. According to the adage, maybe I just need more time. However, I work hard to be thankful and live in the positive, but I’m not always successful.
I also realize a few things:
1. None of my family have been injured.
2. We’re far luckier than some.
3. First World problems, all.
It’s been six months since the flood of 2016, and we were able to move back into our home a little over a month ago. It’s far, far from “back to normal” and “normal” is just a construct since our home will never be the same. Our pre-flood routines are still out of whack. We’re waiting on doors and moldings and still have some major things to replace that will function as they are until we can get to it. We’ve done some things differently on purpose, even taken advantage of the situation and improved some things we never would have otherwise. Daily, living amidst the reminders that “we’re not quite there” can be exhausting when I let those little things hack away at me. Even typing this out has me ashamed of the way I’m feeling (but I’m still feeling it). This feels a little like whining and during the times I can get perspective, it even feels trivial.
It’s during those times that I can’t get perspective – the troughs in my mood graph – that I tend to pull away from my friends … the friends that didn’t flood. I never said this was healthy or sane; it’s just something I’ve recognized as time has gone on. The recovery that most of us thought would be a sprint has turned into a grueling marathon of frustration, grief, and at some points, helplessness. Conversations I’ve had with friends that HAVE flooded usually leave me feeling understood, if not uplifted by someone else’s recovery milestone. I find it easier to celebrate those victories with them. I never feel like the whiny one in the group.
Community and support are so, so important – especially as time wears on. Where are you in your recovery? Do you have a network of support? Do you find it easy to let those that can’t empathize listen to your frustrations? How’re y’all doin’ out there?
In a lot of ways it’s the little things… Mentioning to a friend you no longer own a bathing suit or sunglasses and them telling you to just go to Target and buy new ones…. But it is quite that simple when there’s so much to replace still.
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