I wrote this yesterday, before the power was restored. But, I still wanted to share this post with you, because it’s exactly how I felt at the time. And maybe others will still be able to relate to it. Also, I’m sorry this is Hurricane Sandy – Part Four instead of Hurricane Sandy – Part One.
But let’s just pretend I’m George Lucas and my story about the hurricane will be posted out of order, kind of like Star Wars.
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I know. I know.
You’re still waiting for my miniseries on Hurricane Sandy. And I promise it’s still in the works. It’s just that I am still out here in Pennsylvania because we still don’t have any power back home. And I can’t seem to find my sense of humor.
It’s been six days since the Hurricane hit.
And things still aren’t back to normal.
Maybe six days, isn’t all that many in the grand scheme of things. But for someone with all of my Weirdo Phobias and Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, this has been terribly tough.
And I am REALLY struggling.
Please don’t get me wrong.
There are so many people far worse off than I am, like those who have lost everything. Including loved ones. And my whole entire heart goes out to them. I can’t even begin to imagine what they are going through. And I certainly can’t wrap my head around living inside one of the Monmouth County Schools for shelter, because I can’t even handle living out of my suitcase.
And I feel like a complete asshole for what I’m about to say.
Yes, I am extremely grateful that my son and I are safe. And I am even more grateful that we have heat, and food, and water, and coffee, and Internet access, and electricity, and television, and all that jazz. And in a shocking turn of events, Louis, finally came out to play with me. He even slept on my lap while I watched a marathon of the Showtime Series: Homeland.
But there is a VERY big part of me that just wants to go home, already.
I miss everything about New Jersey, like the Pizza and the Chinese Food. But even more so, I really miss my house. I miss my things. I miss my usual surroundings. I miss my bedroom. I miss my schedule and my routine. I miss my writing setup. I miss my parents. I miss my friends. I miss my life.
And I am sofa king tired.
I haven’t been sleeping very well. This stiff and narrow sofa is pretty friggen uncomfortable. And I’m not quite as skilled as my brother. As such, I’m feeling very restless, very anxious, and very cranky. And I feel incredibly guilty for being so selfish – but I don’t know how much more I can take. Moreover, I don’t know how much more my hosts can take.
My body aches all over. My back is on fire. My limbs feel as though they are made of concrete. My eyes burn. My brain is foggy. My knees are flaring up. And my heart is heavy.
I am also having a difficult time getting much writing done. While I can still manage to squeeze out a blog post, but, I still need complete silence in order to get into the zone when it comes to working on my Novel. Therefore, I am very disappointed with my NaNoWriMo progress.
I know this all sounds so trivial. Almost even obnoxious. Especially compared to the total devastation others are facing. And I hate myself for feeling this way, much less thinking this way. But I also think I am allowed to feel some level of frustration.
I’ve been telling myself, “At least we are not living in one of the shelters. I’m so blessed everyone in my family survived. Things could be a lot worse.” And I’ve been watching The News, with tears streaming down my cheeks, and a lump in my throat.
And that’s when I was reminded exactly how to be grateful.
Even for the simplest of things, like showers.
However, I still want to rip out my hair from the roots.
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PS: Writing that down on paper totally made me feel better.
For a much funnier recount of the events please read this.
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