After The Storm

Hurricane Ian has passed and left it’s mark. It has wiped out entire communities, ripped trees out of the ground, shut down highways and wrecked bridges and homes. The wounds it inflicted are not only physical. There are emotional wounds that may not yet be visible. Preparing for the storm, living through the storm and returning to the uncertainty of its impact in the aftermath has been stressful for me. Some of it feels familiar and some of it feels foreign. Similar to the way it has reshaped the landscape, Hurricane Ian has reshaped me.

Living through a hurricane, I learned new things about myself. I had never been required to evacuate my home prior to a storm before. I had never left my home and wondered about the extent of damage I would face when I returned. I had never faced the prospect of my entire community being wiped out before. It was stressful before, during and after. My stress before the storm was related to making sure that everything we would absolutely need or want was with us. The truth is I took most of what I needed, and some of what I wanted, but it definitely wasn’t everything. How does one even make that call under stress?

It was stressful during the storm because even though I was on higher ground I was still experiencing hurricane winds and rain. And truthfully, I couldn’t will myself to stop watching coverage of the storm. So there was a constant loop of information about its path and velocity that added to my stress. I am not sure that not watching would have been better. There was also the added stress of not knowing if or when power and by extension internet connectivity would be lost. So again, binging information about how the hurricane was unfolding felt important.

The stress after the storm was two fold. The first dimension was making our way back home to uncertainty. Was home still intact? Was there damage? To compound the matter, traveling home was eerie. There was no water on the roads or trees blocking our path, but there was also no one else on what is normally a very busy highway but us. No one.

On the car ride, no one verbalized the angst we were feeling, yet it was palpable. I had never driven up to my home and begun inspecting it from the outside before, albeit silently and what I hoped was inconspicuously. Walking to the door, opening the door, walking through our home inspecting it – all done while sort of holding my breath. Minor water damage was all we found. We could live with that.

And just when I was about to exhale and celebrate, I remembered the folks directly impacted by Ian. They were not so lucky. How should I feel? Was it alright to be happy that we were spared while others were suffering? People in our own city are still without power days later. People further to our south lost their homes, jobs, cars, places of business and more. What is the appropriate emotion to feel when you have been spared and others are suffering?

I don’t have answers. I am still processing this entire experience. I know will be expected to show up and be as I was before.

I am not as I was before.

The hurricane has reshaped me too.

I am not sure that I am aware of all of the ways it has changed me. I am not sure that I ever will. Right now I am existing in the tension of gratitude and remorse.

I am still standing, but like the tree above I have been changed. I am not qualifying the change as good or bad, it just is. It exists and I am acknowledging it.