PTSD
I found this text file sitting on my very cluttered computer desktop this week. I wrote it on 12/3/01. I was trying to cabpure some of my reactions to the tragedy of 9/11.
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Once the reality of it sunk in (after a couple of days), I went into a
daze. I felt as though I was the only one who could see what was
comming next: world war, global depression, killing, death. I felt like
everyone else had put on blinders and refused to see the impending
horror that looked perfectly obvious to me.
I felt unable to talk about this for several days. My spouse had
expressed an interest not to think about the worst, and I felt isolated
from others because of the hatred and aggression expressed by those
around me. (When 85% of the country is united on an issue like war, it
feels really lonely to be part of the 15%.)
I finally called my mom after several days, voiced my fears, cried like
a baby, and began to gather my marbles, so to speak. Over the next few
days, I was able to rejoin the land of the living, and not feel like a
zombie.
What I still find disturbing is people shredding the Constitution while
wrapping themselves in the flag and holding a cross. Legitimate debate
over our foreign policy is called unAmerican, while denegrating the Bill
of Rights is held up as patriotic.
7:00:29 AM 
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