Commemorating the attacks of 9-11 is obviously a solemn moment. But, I believe it is also a joyous occasion and this is why: immediately after the attacks on 9-11 and, in the 10 years following, I have witnessed remarkable courage, strength and unity among the American people. At the time of the attacks we were saying things like, “How can this be, things like this don’t happen in America!” But, we’ve all become much more aware and accepting of what it means to be living in this particular stage of history. And, personally, I think we’ve dealt with it remarkably.
This is my experience as it relates to the attacks on 9-11. An experience that is just one of many.
A couple of days after the attack, my husband and I were out shopping for a wedding gift. My cell phone rang and the person on the other end said, “Deborah, how quickly can you get to New York City?” My mind started racing and I reminded her that the airports were still closed. She said, “I don’t care how you get there, just get there! We’re setting up a command center at a hotel in midtown Manhattan.” I promised to be there as soon as possible hung up the phone and told my husband I needed to get home. This is what my life is like as a critical incident therapist, but it had never been about something of this magnitude. So, I went home and started packing. Fortunately, the airports re-opened and I got on the first flight to New York.
Now, I’ll admit that I was a little nervous, considering what just happened, but I decided that this was probably the safest time to be flying. Actually, my husband kept pounding that into my head and I knew he was right. But, As I was waiting for my flight, two men who appeared to be middle eastern were pacing in the waiting area, running over to the television to listen to news reports and talking anxiously into their cell phones. I felt fear begin to grip me and I began eyeing them suspiciously. Thankfully, another part of me took over, the part that doesn’t judge people according to skin color or ethnicity and I began to relax again. I’m not proud of my initial reaction, but it illustrates what was happening to millions of people in the wake of this tragedy. We became suspicious and fearful. Nonetheless, when we were called to board the plane, I said, “It’s you and me, God. Let’s do this!”
I got to New York and grabbed a shuttle headed to the city. A couple who looked middle eastern and didn’t appear to have much grasp of the English language got into the shuttle. They had shoddy looking baggage tied together with string and they looked frightened. Another woman in the shuttle started speaking loudly and saying, “These people look like Muslims. I hope you’ve checked their baggage. I’m not sure it’s safe to be riding with them.” I was mortified! I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, but didn’t want to get into a verbal altercation with this woman, either. So, I turned around in my seat, made eye contact with the couple and smiled at them. The woman smiled back and things felt calmer again. We headed toward the city and were all shocked by the absence of the twin towers in the skyline.
I love, love, love New York (Broadway, Tiffany’s, the museums, Central Park) and had just been there a couple of months before the attacks. I know I don’t have to tell you that New York is a busy city. But, that day, as we drove to the hotel, I was completely taken by the fact that there was no one on the streets. It was like being in a ghost town. Once I got to the hotel, we were briefed and given our assignments and I tried to get some sleep.
My partner and I were assigned to a company in Manhattan. During the next few days we met individually with people affected by the attack. For some it was about being a New Yorker, for others it was about actually witnessing the event and for others it was about losing someone. Many people were experiencing survivor guilt and talked about how they were supposed to be in the towers that day, but weren’t. We did a home visit for a family who lost someone in the attack so that we could assess their needs, work with their grief and see that they were taken care of. I left feeling very much a part of their family. In fact, the grandmother loaded us down with food and drinks for the big drive back from Brooklyn to Manhattan and was hugging us all the way out the door. I did a group debriefing to help people deal with their feelings, much of it centering on intense anger. I heard heart-wrenching stories. One woman told me that she lived near Ground Zero and could smell burning flesh as she tried to sleep at night. One man was still shaking when I saw him, a week after the attack. He had witnessed the attack and was so shaken that he wandered the city for hours because he couldn’t remember what he was supposed to do next. And, I met a young mother and her infant daughter, a daughter who would never know her father.
I made one visit to Ground Zero. I grabbed a cab, but the driver stopped several blocks from the site and told me that vehicles weren’t allowed any further. I walked the last few blocks, until I reached the point where the street was blocked. It was eerily quiet. A few people were on the streets, but it still wasn’t the New York I knew and had grown to love. Police were everywhere and no one was allowed past the barricades unless they had reason to be there. I showed my identification and was allowed in. We had surgical masks to protect us from the dust and other particles in the air, although I’m not sure that it did much good. One piece of a building was still smoldering and there was ash everywhere. I felt like I was in a war zone. Destruction was all that I could see around me. The people I encountered were shop keepers and people who lived in the area. The only other people there were the 1st responders. I truly felt that I was in the land of the Living Dead. People were wandering aimlessly and stared vacantly; at what, I don’t know. It was as if they knew they were there for a reason, but couldn’t quite grasp what the reason was.
I stood for quite some time and watched as responders were cleaning debris and searching for bodies. I cried. I prayed for the people of New York and for the welfare of our country and then I left. I decided to walk back to the hotel, rather than taking a cab. I was several miles from the hotel, but feeling a bit dazed from what I had just seen. I headed toward Central Park, feeling quite ill from breathing in the tainted air at Ground Zero. Walking though the park helped me to get my bearings and regain a sense of calm. On my way back to the hotel, I walked past St. Patrick’s Cathedral. There were several people gathered for a memorial service for a firefighter. I stopped and stood quietly for a few moments, out of respect. While standing there I could hear the faint sound of singing. I eventually realized that it was coming from the church, so I went in through a side door and discovered that a service was going on. I stood in the back with some other people who had wandered in. We all sang Amazing Grace and, at the end of the service, we all started crying and hugging each other as though we were long lost friends. That’s the positive thing about trauma. It tends to bring people together.
I’m so thankful to have been able to be in New York at this time. But, people often ask how it affected me. Well, one of the ground rules going in was that every consultant would be debriefed before going home. When it was my time to leave, the debriefer wasn’t available. I had a plane to catch, but honestly didn’t feel like a debriefing was all that necessary. After all, I’m a mental health professional. I understand trauma. So, I boarded a plane for Minneapolis without the required debriefing.
Any guesses as to what might have happened when I returned home? Well, What I didn’t yet understand is that I was experiencing secondary trauma, which is sometimes referred to as Compassion Fatigue. Here is just some of what can happen to people who experience trauma:
I became obsessed with news around the terrorist attack
I started crying a lot and had difficulty sleeping
I kept seeing the faces of people I had worked with, especially the young widow I had visited and her baby and the images at Ground Zero
I became irritated with people who were upset with what I considered to be trivial problems and didn’t hesitate to tell them
But, those days eventually passed and it’s been 10 years. As time has passed and I’ve been able to reflect on my experience, I’d like to think I’ve learned a few things.
First, If you want to react to tragedy by making the world a better place you can start in your own community. Develop relationships with people you might otherwise never get to know. Volunteer.
Ask yourself if there are needs that you can meet in your own neighborhood.
Give to a charity that does work that you believe in. It isn’t an accident that I work for the military. It happened because of 9-11. I knew I wouldn’t ever be a soldier, but I can certainly support the people doing the real work.
Other lessons learned:
I don’t try to be Super Woman anymore and I don’t work 60 hour weeks without taking a break because I think I’m indispensable. I’m not. And neither are you.
I don’t fill my mind with disturbing images. Instead, I watch funny movies and laugh at every opportunity.
I remind myself that family and friends are more important than anything.
I exercise and meditate on a regular basis and look to my spiritual faith for strength and comfort.
I do my best to live in the present moment which, after all, is all we’ve really got! A lot less doing and a lot more being. I have actually learned to relish doing nothing. It’s good for the soul. In other words, I value life more than I ever did before this experience.
You know those flight instructions we’re supposed to be listening to on the plane when we’re actually reading or trying to act nonchalant? They always tell us to put our own oxygen mask on before trying to help others. I’ve learned that that is really good advice. So, figure out what oxygen mask it is that keeps you going and take care of yourself first. If enough of us start doing that, we’ll begin to change the world.
May we never forget!
copyright 2011 by Deborah Bray Haddock. All rights reserved. Do not use without the express permission of the author.
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