I guess that's "shock," at least how it was for me.
Later I was able to talk to a few people who undestood me. Some other people who lived through the same thing, who also experienced it. It made me
feel better to know I am not the only one who reacted like that. But even so, not everyone reacted with those emotions. It was not a universal
response. Other people who lived through the same thing didn't have a clue what I was talking about when I tried to explain this to them, or they got
angry at me. So I stopped talking about it to people.
But I never stopped thinking about it. Its a guilty, hateful feeling, that I felt that way. I'm still disappointed in myself. I guess the human
mind/heart/soul is a strange thing, and different people react differently. Some people understand that, others don't. That's life I guess. God made
us all different. We all have different colors on our palette to paint with. I just wish I had...bettter colors...at that time. I feel like I failed
When those feelings subsided, after a few weeks, more normal feelings returned. I was still in Japan. I wasn't a missionary anymore. Real fear began
to set in, especially about the radiation. Do you remember how it was in the early days? I didn't know if I would be dead or not. Everyone was leaving
Japan, it was mass panic among the foreigners!
I started to realize how dangerous it was, and real fear set in for the first time. I had to confront death. Was all that "irrational exuberance" a
way to keep going and not be overwhelmed by the fear and panic?
If so, I guess it worked. When I'm not feeling so hard on myself, I like to think maybe that's what happened.
Then I had to start facing reality at last. I wanted to go up north and help ("the best defense is a good offense!" I could fight my own fear of death
by saving others!) But what could I do? I was running out of money, I didn't have any skills to "help" people, I'm no doctor. All I would do is be in
the way. I had to start thinking about myself.
My parents wanted me to come home, they were hysterical but my mind wasn't working right and I thought I would be "giving up" to do that. I had so
little money, so little idea what to do or how to go forward.
A terrible roaring was filling my ears. And then the panic attacks set in. The aftershocks are what finally did me in. Every day another earthquake.
After that "irrational exuberance" had subsided, it was no longer there to protect me from the terror of the aftershocks. Then, for the first time, I
began to know real fear. A fear like I've never known was possible. Every day an aftershock, bringing with it the terror. Am I going to die
I tried to trust God but I am a poor sinner. And in the end my fear got the better of me. Another thing to feel ashamed about.
I got enough money together to get the heck out of there...by borrowing it from 4 different people. I will always be in those people's debt. None
wanted me to pay them back, but I did. Every penny. Its still not enough. I'll never be able to repay those people...none of whom were particularly
close to me, beforehand.
The way strangers help each other in crises is the thing that makes me know that deep down, we human beings are good. We live in the light of God, God
shines through us at such moments, and in such moments we learn God will never forsake us.
We get by with a little help from our friends.
edit on 4/29/2012 by Partygirl because: (no reason given)