I live on the coast of New Jersey, a few blocks from Barnegat Bay, but in a well protected area behind the barrier islands. Last year, my husband, who was a volunteer fireman in a coastal town for years and spent his working life in public works out on one of those barrier islands, spent two days preparing for Hurricane Irene. Everything came inside the house or got locked in the shed outside. Firewood got stacked nearly and covered with tarps. There were tarps on my windows. I had 5 gallon bottles of water in my garage and plenty of canned food. He had figured out how to cook on top of the wood stove if need be, not that we wouldn’t have collapsed from the heat if we ever tried it. He took it very seriously. He was going to send the rest of us, dogs included, up to higher ground in the woods with a friend. Then he had a heart attack and died, and I don’t really remember how bad Irene was or wasn’t because it was just some noisy rain to us.
So this year, I’m still prepared. Still have the water, still have so many batteries I didn’t care when walmart ran out, still have canned food, the dogs are ready. All I really had to do was what he’d already done last year. We got it all done by yesterday and have just been sitting here waiting since. My office didn’t close, but only emergency vehicles are allowed on the streets here so I couldn’t go, and really, there is nothing so important up there that I would leave my (grown) kids and the puppies down here alone while I went to work. (I confess I brought some work home, but right now, who cares?)
I have never been this scared in my life. I’m sitting here in my little house, outside the mandatory evacuation zone, with the wind howling, hoping I keep my roof on. Everything’s plugged in and charging until the power goes. JCP&L, which took a lot of heat last year for delays, has already warned us that power will be out for a week if it goes, so that we’ll all be thrilled with their performance when they get it back to us in only 5 days. I’m not even going to think about living not too far from the oldest operating nuclear power plant in the USA. (OK, I just did.) I’ve got the little box of important papers sitting on the kitchen table just in case. We can’t get out past noon, and I’m not sure where we’d go anyway since the animal friendly shelters are already full.
I’m asking myself why I live here, but the truth is, I’ve never lived any place in my life that isn’t being affected by this storm. I’m getting rain; they’re going to get a couple of feet of snow in the town out in the coal country where my dad grew up.
Stay safe everybody.



12 Comments

Stay safe. Can you get to someplace further inland?
So sorry for your loss. This new storm must have you feeling that all over again.
(((fungiblechattel)))
I have a friend who lives way out in the woods but I’m really more scared of trees than anything. This thing is so huge I’d have to go to Missouri to get away from it.
And yes, the storm has me feeling it all over again. At least this year my daughter came home from school before it started. Last year it was just me and my son (and the dogs).
Actually, I take that back. Nothing is worse than sitting here. Think we’ll catch up on Dexter til the power goes.
just a few months ago, wendydavis …. forest fires, Colorado.
now fungiblechattel, in this storm.
good luck to you.
Stay safe, and be thankful you have your kids with you so you can watch over them.
Used to live at the Jersey Shore. Windwise, this hurricane is not too bad (90 mph sustained right now).
It does sound quite scary. God bless.
I know it may seem silly, fingiblechattel, since this mindful exercise comes from a bloomin’ novel (Dune), but it helps me when I’m afraid.
Music and poetry are also superior antidotes to fear, and since it’s so, this is a link to some of Rumi’s wonderful works.
Advice is so cheap and easy to give, but please. Once the storm has passed, and you’ve come out the other side, consider going to a counselor for some debriefing or EFT (googleable). It might help defray some of the trauma you’re experiencing so that it doesn’t stay with you. What I went through this summer doesn’t touch what you’re experiencing, but like you, traumas just sort of piled on top of each other for long enough that the fire threat hasn’t been easy to jettison.
And I sincerely did think I’d been working on myself pretty rigorously all the way along. In my experience, it’s hard to know how much trauma residue might still pop up again with new triggers.
My love and prayers to you, dear one. To find your center, you must feel the waves…
{{{{Huge Hug}}} from Florida. Wouldn’t wish this on anyone.
Thank you Cynthia. But hey, if nothing else, stuck in the house, I can catch up on the antics of MERS!!
{{{{ fungiblechattel }}}} I’m glad you’re all together.
(((fungiblechattel)))
Hope the worst is over
((((fungible and family)))) this hug (these hugs) will be waiting for you when you ghet reconnected with the collective. If you need more, or more than hugs, let me know.