Sunday, September 11, 2011

10 years

Before I was a blogger, I was a journal keeper. Thankfully, quite a dedicated one actually. Tonight I pulled out a big white Deseret book journal with a stick figure dancing to the caption "livin' la Vida loca" and the phrase "Midwives Help People Out" written inside the front cover. This book covers my life from January 1st 2000 to my wedding day, September 27, 2002. Quite a crazy, turbulent, painful and wonderful time in my life. I wanted to see what I had written on
9/11, and was pleased I had the wherewithal to take the time to write something. Although it was just the facts. At the time I had been writing mostly in a grungy yellow notebook with "Erin's House of Pain" etched on the cover. Very unfortunately, this notebook is lost to the ages, because believe it or not, it covers THE most life changing months of my life, the months in which I truly grew up, in all it's raw and painful but necessary details. But that is neither here nor there. The point is, the most personal thing I wrote on 9/11 is that I went to my Institute class,
("You were in COLLEGE??!" my then 8th grade brother squawked tonight when I mentioned this fact) and then left, because it felt inappropriate to go to Latin Dancing which was next on my schedule.
In the weeks surrounding 9/11, I had my heart broken, like really, really broken, went to therapy, wore a ring I wish I still had that said "WHOLE" to remind me I was enough on my own, got into nursing school, turned 21, moved out into my first apartment, and met my husband (and consequently wrote some major cheesy poetry).
I was so self involved that I know for a fact I didn't even cry that day. I remember thinking I should be crying, that would be the appropriate response for a young lady, but it didn't happen. I since have cried when watching old clips, movies and during embarrassing country songs in my car, but at the time it fit so neatly into the theme of my life that it hardly shocked me. I had built up walls to protect myself in the proceeding days and the sounds of terror and sorrow were muffled and far away. It was a time of tragedy out of the blue and loss and growth. It was a time of tears and pulling together and change. Of anger. Of being more careful. Of new priorities. Of innocence lost.
Tonight watching the tribute shows, I couldn't believe ten years have passed. I cried this time, and thought of my family, my kids, and how much differently I would react today than that 20 year old girl who wasn't a bit surprised the world was ending. The gravity, finally, has sunk in.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad


Alex said...

i used to love reading your old journals. whoops.

Allison said...

How true. the world is ending for every 20 year old girl. no surprise.