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.