personal, writing
Published on June 13, 2017
Comments 17

Smashed eggshells drowning

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We are on flood watch again. Last time this happened, due to Cyclone Debbie, we ended up with thigh-high water through my son’s garden-level bedroom: photos and story are all HERE. Nearby towns were devastated, and are literally only just recovering after 11 metres of brown filthy water rushed through the entire CBD.

Flood4

I hardly slept last night. I lay wake from 1.30 till at least 4am, tuning in to every increase or blessed pause in the rain’s fall. I kept picturing my garden 2 months ago, over and over, drowned by floodwater. I’d moved my car at midnight back then, just in time before the water went over the bottom of the doors; last night I kept worrying if I should get up to check it.

IMG_8338

My neighbours didn’t move their van in time. Water got to the bottom of the steering wheel

Early this morning friends texted or called to see if I needed a hand, and I decided to keep ’17’ home from school. I’ve noticed I’m chewing on my tongue or my inner lips, and feel so on edge (plus exhausted).

I’m kind of  hyper-vigilant, yet also numb.

Expecting the worst.

Feeling out of control.

Scared. Angry. Wanting to flee.

And I thought: ‘Wow, this is like a domestic violence nightmare- walking on those damn clichéd egg shells, waiting for the emotional explosion. Or like living in a ghetto, where you never know who’s going to be shot next. It’s like living in Syria, waiting to be bombed. It’s like being a refugee, in camp or detention centre.’

Except it’s fucking Not.

I’m still surrounded by intact walls & roof; electricity; internet; food and fresh water. Emergency services and Council trucks. Hourly updates on local radio with friendly voices and familiar tunes.

Support.

Freedom.

Love.

Yes, I’m feeling pretty anxious, and definitely a bit re-triggered by memories of the last flood. But nothing, NOTHING, like a woman being beaten by her partner in her own home, or having her children shot at, bombed, or drowned in rough seas fleeing political persecution.

I hang my head at my simple lack of resilience, and wonder if I’d ever be tough enough to survive a genuine traumatic situation?

I pray I never find out.

bone&silver

 

17 Comments

  1. Robyn Haynes says

    You must live in my region. The rain is relentless. I’ve been restless all night worrying about the floods. My garden is sodden and just when I’m beginning to drown in self pity I read your post and remembered how lucky I am. Take heart. The bureau is promising the rain will ease by tomorrow.

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    • bone&silver says

      Thanks Alexis- the yard went under at one point by a couple of inches, but sank away again… thank goodness! Now it just becomes a battle against the forces of Mould & Fungus… 😐

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