The Messy Emotional Aftermath
Time will heal wounds, or as I've experienced it, dull the pain. The memories are not as frequently replayed in my mind so I'm spending less time reliving the worst day of my life. Lately though, I've been feeling really anxious. Having my stomach twist in knots, my heart palpitate and jaw sore and throbbing because I have clearly been grinding my teeth are strange feelings to experience when I don't feel the mental anxiety and stress that should accompany such symptoms. However, as I begin to dig deeper, my heart is still hurting and bleeding from the trauma I went through, not three months ago.
After a month had passed since the fire, I was still so distraught when others couldn't understand that I am still immensely upset and heartbroken. At this point, three months after, I have just come to understand that that is normal, human even, for people to have almost entirely erased the event from their minds and I am viewed as I was before; no different. It is rather exhausting to fight such a fact and therefore, I must accept it and move on, heal quietly, not bothering others about the matter. This may seem sad or downright depressing, but it just is what it is and I am ok facing that fact.
We were the only ones in our apartment complex that had renter’s insurance. My heart is saddened for those neighbors who lost everything with no hope for compensation. With that said, documenting every single item in our home, including individual details such as, how long we had it, what brand it was, what it would cost to replace, as well as including a photo of each item, has been a complete nightmare. Each time we sit down to try and remember the items room by room, we are reminded of the traumatic event, and heartbreak swoops over to envelope us whole. This has been no simple process, and the thought of sitting down to document our lost items makes me sick to my stomach. The insurance representative told us to go back to the apartment and take as many pictures as possible of our damaged goods. Ha! What a joke that was. I very seriously considered putting pictures of ash on each item line to make my point of how asinine that request was to me. We have been asked many times if our insurance will replace everything. The accurate answer is no. Monetarily speaking, our insurance won’t make up for everything lost, but also, insurance cannot bring irreplaceable items back, like love letters, my dried king protea wedding flower, nor other unique pieces we collected over the years. We are still grateful to get the chance to replace a good portion of what was lost, but the road is not easy. The heartache has been lightened by all of the generosity of friends, family and even those who do not know us, through their contributions to funds to help us rebuild our lives. We will be forever grateful to these kind souls.
There were so many things in our home that are irreplaceable, but I have found myself obsessing over Anthropologie's online store and Amazon, scouring over items I lost that are replaceable or just finding different things to replace what I lost. One night as I had about four different tabs open for different items and I was adding things to my shopping cart in each, I felt sick to my stomach and stopped scrolling my fingers across the screen. I closed each and every one of those tabs and forgot about the items I put into the basket. Guilt and disgust swept over me, and I didn't want to become so materialistically driven. There was this pressure I felt from everyone who was watching us recover that we needed to stay really humble and be grateful for what was given to us, but to not be focused on buying lots of things. No one outright said these words to me, but this experience put us at the center of attention for a while, and it made me feel like I had to watch every step I took in the process of recovery. Some words that were communicated to me that led to this thinking included: “Well, you got all of your favorite things out of the apartment in your suitcase, so that’s good,” or, “I was at first jealous to hear all of your stuff burned up.” I did not in fact have all of my favorite things in my one suitcase, nor would I consider my experience to be jealous worthy. These comments made me feel guilty, but I also understood the reality. Stuff is stuff, I lost all of my stuff and I cannot replace it all in one fell swoop. I also realized that we should be saving money rather than spending it.
This ate at my heart, so I said, "Stop Rachel, just stop."
Every now and again I find myself fantasizing about different dish sets I could replace mine with, although what I really wanted was to just have my own damn dishes back, but yes, I know it's not an option (trust me I already checked). Even still, I have my eyes on some dishes at Anthropologie. They aren't the same as my old ones, but they are delicate and sophisticated. I understand that if we want to make it far in this life, I can't go on spending money like it's not a thing. Needless to say, this transition is hard as fuck and I am figuring out how to cope and keep my sanity.
