This is the first blog post I am writing since the tragedies that took place starting on Marathon Monday. Honestly, I have no idea what to write. I haven't written on my personal blog yet either, as I know the Watertown Patch is the right place to do this. Do what? Good question...Apparently you will need to bare with me as I get through these thoughts...
I am not a person who likes to talk about "feelings". If a conversation with me turns to my feelings, you would probably notice that I will instantly turn things around to ask you questions and take the heat off of me. So, when all of a sudden everyone in the greater Boston area starts to talk about feelings, I got uncomfortable.
If pushed, I would have to say the feeling I feel is anger. Pure and simple. Last Thursday, April 18, 2013, when President Obama was in Boston for a memorial service, before the continuing devastation occurred....I was angry. I sat listening to President Obama speak, and all I could think was..."Yell at us! Tell us that this ridiculousness needs to stop! Tell us we are mad as hell and we are not going to take it any more..."
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But he didn't say that. It was an extremely respectful and beautiful memorial service. But I was still mad.
Less than 12 hours later, I received an emergency alert from MIT. I work at MIT, a block away from where the alert said that shots had been fired. My sister was landing at Logan, coming to visit me from Florida, at that precise moment. She pulled into my driveway at the precise moment Twitter alerted us that the car chase was now in Watertown.
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The rest of the night was, as most of you know, extremely long. We sat on the floor, away from windows...just in case. We looked at each other when we heard loud bangs...and were in disbelief when we learned that was the sound of a bomb on the streets I travel every single day.
My sister eventually fell asleep, but I stayed up through every excruciating minute of that night. Jumping at every sound. Constantly refreshing my Twitter feed in order to stay up-to-date on the news.
By the morning, one terrorist was dead and the second was holding our city hostage. Being in central Watertown, we were able to slip out of town at around 1pm on Friday and we hightailed it to Vermont for some peace. But I couldn't tear myself away from the news. I needed constant updates on what was going on.
It was a weird thing to be with my sister from out of town at this time. Once we left Watertown, she was disconnected from the situation and on vacation. I almost felt bad for needing to constantly know what was going on. I felt myself hiding the fact that I was treading on unfamiliar feelings of fear the entire weekend.
Then, on Friday, April 19, 2013, they finally caught him. I have never wanted to be in this city more. I could finally relax and enjoy my vacation, but all I really wanted to do was go home and reclaim OUR town.
After everything happened, I found, once again, I didn't want to talk about my feelings.
People could not have been nicer, and more supportive, everywhere we went. They all wanted to know our story, where we were when as it was happening, how far we lived from the site, was everyone we know okay? But it made me uncomfortable. The thing is, the events are not about ME, or any ONE person. They did not happen to ME. They happened to our community. They happened to Watertown, they happened to MIT, they happened to Boston, they happened to America. I do not deserve, or want, sympathy. Our community as a whole is who deserves it.
I am not sure why people showing compassion and sympathy towards me, as an individual, makes me so uncomfortable, but it does. There are people out there who have to learn to walk again, or who have to learn to live life without their child. There are police officers who, after amazing heroism, have to go without pay until after the invetigation into the shoot-out is complete.
I heard some loud noises and have had some sleepless nights. I count myself extremely lucky.
I don't even know what my point of this post is. I don't even know if it makes sense. But these are my feelings...or maybe this is the anger talking...
