In the wake of tragedy

I want to say that the aftershocks have died down but I'm afraid that I'll have to eat my words. What I will say is that they appear less frequent nowadays, unlike the first month afterward, where your nerves were precarious and you were just waiting for the next one.

There has been another tragedy that has emphasized how fortunate we were to not suffer major casualties- the Pike River mining disaster. 29 men lost their lives in an explosion last week, and the explosions are still continuing, hampering recovery efforts. I'm not entirely sure how much more stress and tragedy the South Island can take, but we are a resilient people, and when the rest of NZ had our backs during the aftermath of the quake, we join with the rest of NZ to do what we can for the people of Greymouth and the families of the miners.

It definitely makes you appreciate things- your family, your health, your friends. It's been hard for me to appreciate those things because of the depressive episode I have been suffering from recently due to the PTSD. At first I felt ashamed that I had to take time off of work because of it, but then I realised that I hadn't actually really paused at all this year. I hadn't taken any real time out from a very stressful year of many changes. I graduated early halfway through the year and within six weeks I was into a new job, and then the quake hit. I guess this was my body and mind saying; "you need to stop and rest." I do feel better, though, thanks to the help of my doctor and the aforementioned rest.

I have decided to use the quake as a measure of time. There is the pre-quake life I lived, which was okay but was only just starting to become full of potential, and there is my post-quake life, which I believe to be full of possibilities. A seismic shift in attitude, if you will.

September 4, 2010

4:35am, Saturday, September 4, 2010, Christchurch, New Zealand. A sudden rumbling sound wakes me up, despite the fact I am wearing earplugs.
Then the ground starts to shake. I get up but in a panic I'm too scared to move to somewhere else, and end up back in bed with my partner. We're holding on to each other as the bed feels like two giants are playing a very nasty game of tug-of-war.
We're not supposed to have earthquakes. Well, not of the magnitude of the September quake, which was 7.1. Everyone always expected that Wellington, the capital of New Zealand, would have "the big one". Not little Christchurch.
After the shaking stops, we turn on the light, not knowing what carnage might await us downstairs. Already in the bedroom my books have toppled from the bookshelves next to my bed, and our kitschy little lava lamp is broken. We locate the cat who has sustained a small but harmless cut on the back of her leg. A few things have fallen off of shelves, but the only real casualty is my British Monarchy Family Tree mug. The lights are on in the neighbourhood, but after a few aftershocks most of the lights go off again and people drift back to sleep.

Later on, for me at least, the magnitude of what has just happen sets in when the local tv stations are covering the quake. They're talking about Christchurch being in a state of emergency, and on the tv I catch my first glimpses of the damage. I cry, and not for the last time either.

*****
I have started this blog because I am trying to find a way to deal with what happened that day. I have been diagnosed with PTSD, and it has aggravated my pre-existing depression. This blog is an attempt to not only talk about what's going on in my area in terms of how we're getting on, but also to talk about my attempts at getting well again. Because I will get better, just not today.