The Fear

September 11, 2001 changed everything about my world.  Happening so close to home, I lived in fear of another attack for a long time.  I never truly feel safe when I fly.  I feel a heightened sense of alert whenever I'm in NYC.  I always glance to the sky when a plane seems to be flying just a little too low.

For seven years following, I sent boy after boy off to war.  My cousin, friends, my fiance.  I knew someone in Iraq or Afghanistan at all times. I was gripped by fear every single day {the worst, obviously, being when Skip was over there}.  I lived in fear of a phone call, that something had happened to one of "my boys".  Every day I wondered if that was the last letter from them, the last phone call, the last email.  It was a fear that took me a long time to get over, even after they had all come home.

My husband is a cop.  Again I live in fear of a phone call, that something has happened to him.  I've gotten that phone call, so my fears are not unfounded.  It's a fear my children will have to grow up with, though thankfully they are too young yet to understand.  It is a fear I have learned to live with.  It's not a 'parayzing, in your face all day' kind of fear, but an underlying, constant, slightly nudgy kind of fear. 

So the thing is, I know fear.  I've confronted it, lived with it, overcome it.  I've been constantly reminded at how precious life is, and really live my life enjoying each moment, making the most of them.  I thank God every single night for the time He has blessed me with my loved ones.

But the shooting in Newtown last Friday has rocked me to my core.  I can't stop watching the news coverage, tears streaming down my face.  I feel like if I hurt enough for them, it will help take away some of the pain the families are feeling. 

We were going to take the girls to the mall this weekend to see Santa, but I just couldn't.  I was afraid.

I was a student from age 3-22.  I was a teacher for three years.  Emmy has been going to school since September.  But yesterday morning I was scared to bring my little girl to school.  The fear, the anxiety, was almost overwhelming.  And I was not the only one.  I know people who kept their kids at home.  The parking lots and morning drop-off were somber, everyone glancing around, making sure everything was okay.  Extra security measures were being worked on at the school. 

Skip kept reassuring me, that everything was okay, that we were as safe as we were on Friday morning before this tragedy occur ed. 

But in my heart I don't believe that.  Yes, there have been mass shootings in our country before.  And while at each one I would pause, mourning the victims, shaking my head at the horrible senselessness of it all, I was never really that afraid.  I was a little more vigilant, but nothing like this.  So what's different.

Friday morning I woke up in a world filled with crazy people who will do horrible, terrible, unforgivable acts.  I woke up in a world that is not always safe.  I woke up in a world where tomorrow is never guaranteed.

But Saturday morning I woke up in a world where a person thought it was okay to murder woman and children.  Women and children.  The ones who are supposed to evacuate first, the ones who are supposed to be protected.  It's like everything I ever knew is changed now.  Because if one person can think this way, how many others are there?

How am I supposed to raise my girls in a world like this?  How am I supposed to get up every morning and trust that we'll be okay at school, the supermarket, the mall?  I know we're not supposed to let "them" win.  We're not supposed to change our lives.  We're supposed to remember that the world is mostly good and these things are rare.  My brain knows this. 

But how do you shake the fear?


AP has put together a great post of links on how you can donate and help the victims and their families. 

Also, go check out my guest post for Lindsey today!