I struggle to let myself feel how I feel, because the message is always that someone else is going through worse. And, especially now, especially over the last year, the message is also to keep carrying on as usual, regardless of the circumstances.
It’s hard to push back against, so perhaps these words are something to come back to.
This was a great trauma.
There is an unspoken agreement here, in this neighborhood, our neighborhood, that the Capitol Police will protect us too. They failed. They did not keep us safe.
There were bombs in our neighborhood. An angry mob with guns in our neighborhood. I listened to the sirens, an expected sound, without alarm. We played with my toddler’s cars on the floor of our living room. My husband burst in and said they breached the Capitol and he didn’t feel comfortable working from the first floor lounge anymore. It took everything in me to stay calm and present for my kid.
Just last week we rode our bikes across the plaza, our tires gliding over the stone, my son shouting “Faster! Faster!” as we flew down the hill on the north side.
I can’t work. I can hardly do anything but scroll through my phone. I’m not okay.
Will we ever feel safe again?