I wasn't prostrate with grief. I wasn't paralyzed with anxiety. I was sad and irritable and restless and bothered by the nagging suspicion that I didn't have a right to feel that way. That I knew the feeling to be ridiculous just added more irritation to the mix.
I didn't know what to do with myself.
I'm glad the day is over.
That sounds very familiar. Only for me it happened on Sept 12, not Sept 11. That was one of the weird bits, for me... being in Australia, across the dateline, the actual anniversary of that horrible day was a day later than for those in NorAm. Sept 12 was the anniversary of stumbling out of bed to read my email over breakfast the way I always do, and finding that the world had suddenly gone to hell in a handbasket, taking friends of mine with it as it went. Sept 12 was the anniversary of the nightmare, for me. I had been wondering how I was going to go on Sept 11, and it actually turned out to be an ok day. I avoided the media except for in the evening when I watched a tv show that looked at engineering aspects of the WTC as they affected the outcomes of that day, and after that I watched a fascinating documentary that followed a group of NY firemen throughout the period leading up to and including 9/11, where the cameramen wound up going *into* the Towers after the first plane had hit. And then I went to bed, feeling thoughtful but ok.
It was the next day, yesterday, that was weird for me, and I spent much of it feeling much as you describe here. It was just... strange. An unsettled, uneasy, strange sort of day. Not anything I'd describe as "horrible", but I breathed a huge sigh of relief when it was over.
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Date: 2002-09-12 11:49 pm (UTC)I didn't know what to do with myself.
I'm glad the day is over.
That sounds very familiar. Only for me it happened on Sept 12, not Sept 11. That was one of the weird bits, for me... being in Australia, across the dateline, the actual anniversary of that horrible day was a day later than for those in NorAm. Sept 12 was the anniversary of stumbling out of bed to read my email over breakfast the way I always do, and finding that the world had suddenly gone to hell in a handbasket, taking friends of mine with it as it went. Sept 12 was the anniversary of the nightmare, for me. I had been wondering how I was going to go on Sept 11, and it actually turned out to be an ok day. I avoided the media except for in the evening when I watched a tv show that looked at engineering aspects of the WTC as they affected the outcomes of that day, and after that I watched a fascinating documentary that followed a group of NY firemen throughout the period leading up to and including 9/11, where the cameramen wound up going *into* the Towers after the first plane had hit. And then I went to bed, feeling thoughtful but ok.
It was the next day, yesterday, that was weird for me, and I spent much of it feeling much as you describe here. It was just... strange. An unsettled, uneasy, strange sort of day. Not anything I'd describe as "horrible", but I breathed a huge sigh of relief when it was over.