JAMIE 2011

When I think about who I am today, in September, 2011, and I ask myself does the person I am have more to do with September 10, 2001 or September 11, 2001, I am disappointed, but not surprised that the answer is mostly the latter, but thankfully some of the former as well.

In the immediate aftermath of the attacks I was determined to not let those events change me, or worse yet, define me (lest the terrorists win, of course), which is why I started The Before Project. But what I wasn’t counting on, because I couldn’t see past my own nose in those days, was how that day would change the world and how hard it would be not to be affected by those changes. With wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, with warrantless wiretapping and CIA secret prisons, with Guantanamo Bay and distinctions between free citizens and “enemy combatants,” with a global economic crises and a national recession (possibly headed for a double dip?), the world we live in has been fundamentally changed by an attack on American soil and therefore so have I.

On a macro-level I am terribly disappointed in my government, and in the world at large, that has met might with might and increased suffering rather than meeting the challenge to increase peace and understanding in good faith. The lies that are told, and the tales that are spun, to support unwinnable wars and erosions of the basic freedoms that make us who we are were given carte blanche by these attacks (and in that way, I suppose the terrorists have won). I took the idea that you could be searched when getting on a New York City subway, without cause, as a personal affront to my liberty and to my American-ness. I still do. The memories of carrying a pocket copy of the Constitution in my bag and wearing my “I do not consent to be searched” T-Shirt may be distant, but they have become a part of me, just as much as the memory of the attacks have.


On a micro-level I recognize signs of PTSD in myself. During the blackout of August 2003, I was out of our office building and headed home on foot so quickly that my co-worker could barely keep up with me. Crossing NYC intersections where traffic lights had failed, I nearly got us both killed, but in the end, I got us home. People at work had followed us into the stairwell (because I wouldn’t stop to talk) to question our sanity and encourage us to wait it out, but all I knew was that I could get home as long it was light out and after that I was in big trouble. Similarly, in March 2009, when a bomb threat was called into the school where I worked, I was six month pregnant, but I was the first one to step off campus, with 400 high school students trailing me. My “fight or flight” instinct leans heavily towards “flight” and I impressed quite a few kids with my ability to waddle quickly that day.

When Saddam Hussein was captured in December 2003 I remember feeling a sense of pride and relief, however, in May 2011, when news came out that Osama bin Laden had been killed, all I felt was dread. Dread for what retaliatory actions might be taken, and sadness for what was happening in the streets: Americans celebrating the death of one individual as if it brought justice. Bin Laden had certainly caused much pain, but in killing him without a trial America lost something, too. In just over 7 years we had gone from being a nation who captured and tried our enemies to a nation who shot first and asked questions later. From a nation who mourned together to one who celebrated the death of one man as if it brought closure. My heart hurt the morning I woke up to that news and then, in a bizarre twist that same morning, there was a bomb threat in our little city in Pennsylvania and the PTSD kicked in all over again.

But even with all the ways that September 11th changed my life and my world, there are many ways in which my life has changed which I do not think are the result of that day. That is to say, even if the attacks had not happened, I think I still would have ended up here: Today I live in a small city in Pennsylvania. I am married to Sam, with whom I watched the towers burn. We have a two year old who is funny and sweet and pretty (and a little bit bossy). My career has moved from theatre and arts education to higher education and then on to secondary education and I have since started and almost completed my Master’s degree. I have lived in 4 apartments since the one we lived in on September 11, 2001 and we now live in a house that we bought several months ago.

In many ways my life feels almost unrecognizable from the life I was living on either September 10th or 11th of 2001 and I have to admit that I can think of only three constants: my friends, my writing and Sam. I am lucky to still have the same close friends I did then; I still use writing to process what is happening around me and give some sort of meaning to things that seem random, difficult or strangely wonderful and I am still with Sam. The romantic, optimistic, hopeful thing to say now is, “I trust that these three things will last.” That is in fact how I ended the first draft of this piece, but in all honesty, I can’t say that. They are certainly the things that have gotten me this far, but maybe one of the things I learned from the attacks and from this project is that it’s really hard to know what each day holds and how extremely different one day can be from the next.


***
To read my thoughts from 2002, click here.