Surviving Catastrophe - Part I
Throughout last week, I was an emotional wreck - obsessed with facebook postings and dribbles of messages coming from my friends in Western North Carolina. For five days, we didn’t know if they were alive. The morning of the Writing Symposium, I snapped off a news report, needing to keep my focus and not let fear take over. It was a couple more days before we began to hear details of how their idyllic home and land had been ravaged by Helene's catastrophic impact.
Only now can I see that my psyche and nervous system were spiraling through an internal process that was seeking healing for old wounds and what Robert Jay Lifton (RJL) calls being a witnessing citizen*.
It was a Sunday afternoon in late August 2011 and we drove, windshield wipers thwacking at top speed, through the Adirondacks. We were heading home after a short get-away before the kids started school the next day. We stopped at our favorite used-clothing store in Waterbury and I resisted the urge to go to my office - just a block away - to get a head start on the week. The rain was relentless and we wanted to get home. I thought: Monday morning will be here soon enough.
We didn’t listen to the news until after the phone call that canceled the first day of school. Catastrophic reports were pouring in. Waterbury was hit hard by Tropical Storm Irene and Main Street was closed an hour after we left it.
A day later, my senses were on overload as I made my way through a changed landscape to my office. When I opened the door to the basement an oil tank was floating in 6 feet of water and my cleaning equipment was somewhere below. The stench of oil sludge made me gag.
On the face of things, my office fared better than many, but the impact of the flood was traumatic and complex. At that time, I was deeply under the influence of my ex-teacher who chastised me for “being overly dramatic” about the flood and told me instead to focus on 'the real work’. Indoctrination seeps in, filling all the cracks: I believed my teacher was right. Cognitive dissonance and shame held me frozen in time.
Was my obsession with what my friends were going through an unconscious calling to unwind yet another strand of complex trauma? Writing, talking and walking helped me through the storm that took place in my nervous system last week. Reading my RJL's most recent book Surviving Our Catastrophes helped too. His reverence and respect for all survivors is salve for my wounds - both weathered and fresh.
In 1962, RJL spent “6 life-changing months” interviewing survivors of the atomic bomb that was dropped on Hiroshima. Through this experience he understood for the first time how humans are capable of destroying our entire species and possibly our planet. His thoughts continued. He wrote: “But I also learned from that study that survivors of the most extreme catastrophe could take on collective efforts towards reestabllishing the flow of life.” Survivors - as opposed to victims - have the possibility of applying their experiences to this most essential task.
The survivor suffers from catastrophe but can also be crucial to overcoming it. By looking closely at the struggles of survivors, we can learn much about catastrophe itself and about the larger human capacity for collective renewal. - Robert Jay Lifton
In 2011 I survived Tropical Storm Irene’s devastating flooding and I was a hostage of Doug’s mind control. Last week, an internal drive compelled me to actively witness my friends' traumatic journey as a way to open up to my own healing. Today - with the help of my therapist and my writing process, I have become a survivor of both. And I’m offering my words to you, hoping you find life’s pulse and a sense of renewal through them. If you do, please let me know. If you don't, please also let me know.
As always, I welcome your thoughts.
Thank you for reading.
Gerette
