(cross-posted at A Single Guy In The South)
Michele has an excellent post about panic attacks and the lingering effects of September 11 on her. I've mused about the effects to myself privately before, but have never taken the time to really think out what those effects are.
None of us will ever forget that morning. How we felt, where we were, what we were doing, where our loved ones were. In my lifetime, its similar to the day Reagan was shot, the Challenger exploded, Columbia crashed, the Westside School shootings in Jonesboro for me personally, and any number of other events that strikes us sharply and deeply. But why does September 11th continue to lurk in our psyches like a serial killer stealthily following us and always just out of sight?
Some of it may be the nature of the fight we have with the forces of terror--there hasn't and probably won't be a decisive moment like V-J Day, the fall of Berlin, the Courthouse at Appamattox. We only hear of small skirmishes being won on occasion. Even if we were to air tapes of Osama and Saddam's dead bodies on international television, there will still be a lingering doubt, a feeling of unease.
We are daily reminded of the doubt and unease. When we must go through a metal detector to get into city hall, a federal building, even some sporting events and concerts, we are reminded. When I walk into a Razorback football game with a date and her purse is inspected and I have to remove my boots, I'm reminded. When we park in short-term at the airport to pick someone up or drop them off, the security guard must look into the back of the car and the trunk. Every morning and night, we are warned that terrorist groups are planning some new kind of operation.
We have friends who are overseas or just mobilized to head off to fight this war on terror. An American dies almost every day in one of the hot spots where we are trying to bring liberty, order, and democracy to desolate peoples. Our email alert shows that we can buy the pack of most wanted Iraqis playing cards and all the gratuitous porn we can handle. Sunday at church we pray for our soldiers and our country to be blessed and defended from the evils that assail it. While we have all sworn to never forget that day, sometimes I wish I could.
I can't. No one can. I wish it could be like it was. I want to walk my mom or a girlfriend to her gate at the airport and sit with her while we await her boarding call. When she boards and the plane leaves the gate I want to look out the window to see if she might be waving. I want to watch her plane take-off. When I return from a flight I want to have the reunion at the gate that at one time was the romantic climax of the drama. Can you see Humphery Bogart seeing Ingrid Bergman off at the entrance to the secured area of an airport? I can't and I don't want to. I want it to be like it once was, even though it may never happen again.
Michele asks when it will end? I want to know the same thing and if it will ever end. Are we forever changed by that day? I know my heart has been, I'm afraid our country has been as well. I want it to end, and I believe others do as well, because I'm exhausted. I have Homeland Security Advisory System fatigue. My fatigue level is at Red (severe). I am so tired of being elevated that I think I may have threat awareness altitude sickness.
Michele, I wish I knew when it will end. I'm ready to live free again.