17 years ago this Thursday, something terrible happened.
It’s a distant memory now, in fact, I rarely even think about it but from time to time, it rears its filthy head.
There are key words and certain sounds as well, where I instantly and involuntarily, recall the event. But the one thing that teleports me back there, to that day, is when I hear a similar story in the media.
Like you, I awoke today to the horrific news of the Boston Marathon bombing.
And I was back there.
A 19 year old Robo, in her floral top and Tencel jeans.
The event was one of the most traumatic episodes you can fathom.
I didn’t suffer from depression but I can’t say that I’ve recovered.
It comes back, however it doesn’t reduce me to tears anymore.
These days, it gives me sense of paranoia, that something bad may happen to my family and it also makes me so incredibly sad.
I’m not down often, but if like today in Boston, hell and earth align and evil escapes and terrorism occurs, I am overwhelmed with grief.
I know first hand how inexplicably terrified each and every one of those unsuspecting people felt.
One day, I’ll explain it to you.