How Facing My Fears Helped To Heal Me

Norah sat anxiously, parked in her Jeep. She took a long, deep breath in and let it out slowly as she watched some Canada geese fly off in a V overhead. They would soon be heading south for the winter, she thought, after noticing that portions of the nearby duck pond were starting to freeze.

You'd think heading inside the clinic to visit her doctor wouldn't cause this much anxiety. Doctors are the educated professionals after all, they're supposed to be here for support right?

Although it's been 17 months since the (incident), the triggers were still there, the sleepless nights, and the nightmares.

The days were getting shorter now though, and soon she wouldn’t have to see the northern hemisphere's late night, orange, summer sunsets that often took her back to that dreadful day.

Finally, she found the courage to turn off the ignition and head into the clinic.

Norah sat down in a chair in room 3, waiting for Dr. O. She couldn't stop fidgeting her hands, so she decided to sit on them, hoping to hide how anxious she was feeling.

"It's been over a year now, it's time to get over it. I'm not sure how I can help you beyond this,” Dr. O explained.

“How could he brush it off like that, when it's still so fresh in my mind?” Norah thought to herself. “Is there something wrong with me? Why am I having difficulty coping with this?”

“I have a friend, she deals with trauma. Here's her business card, I'd like you to call her office and tell her I sent you. I think she is better suited to deal with you from this point on,” he advised.

“Deal with me? What did he mean by that, what's so hard to understand about all of this?” Norah thought to herself, as she began to tear up.

While leaving the room, Dr. O put his hand on her shoulder and said, “My colleague, will fix you I promise.”

“Was I broken? What if it was beyond repair, apparently I should be over all of this by now,” she wondered, while returning to her car.

She took the business card from her wallet and dialed the number that was written on it. She made an appointment for Thursday in hopes that she’d soon be "FIXED."

However, by Thursday, Norah wasn't ready to share just how “broken” she was with another person yet again.

After arriving at this new office she was brought into a tranquil room. Running water sounds were playing in the background. There were dozens of plants all lined up in front of the huge window overlooking the river valley.

"Wow, what a view," Norah said to the lady sitting in one of the twinning rocking chairs.

“Yes!” she replied, “It's even more stunning in the evening overlooking the sunset.”

Norah suddenly felt her hands getting clammy, her throat felt tight, and she was getting hot flashes and chills at the same time. She started digging through her purse in search of her inhaler to help her catch a breath.

“Would you like some tea or a weighted blanket? Grab some slippers and get cozy while I make us some tea,” Dr. M urged.

After an hour of chatting with Dr. M, Norah felt hopeful that these sessions would finally give her some relief.

“You’ve been so worried about everyone but yourself, especially after your son's diagnosis just a few months after the fire, you’ve been neglecting your own feelings,” the doctor told Norah.

“Instead of (pushing your feelings under the rug), journaling, would help you process these events and hopefully declutter your mind of these thoughts you have hidden deep inside of you,” she suggested.

“I want you to write a letter describing that day from beginning to end, explaining what happened. It won't be easy, but it WILL help you process everything.”

It took about a week before Norah finally got the courage to sit and journal about that day. She put the pen to the paper and started writing……….

Dear Old me,

It was Monday morning and the wind had switched directions overnight. Therefore, I could smell the stench of smoke from nearby wildfires blowing towards the city while leaving to drop the kids off at school.

I had the day off so I was heading home to start some laundry before I had to go back and pick the kids up from school for an appointment.

Andreas, my oldest son, was in the first grade. He was having difficulty with certain things at school and they advised me to bring him to a doctor.

I remember feeling annoyed that the boys would miss school for part of the afternoon. When I called ten days prior to book an appointment for 3:30 pm after the school day ended, the receptionist said “Oh mam, you've already made an appointment for that day at 1:30 pm.”

“That's odd,” I remember thinking to myself, since I only just received the notification from the school to make an appointment that morning.

“Who made this appointment,” I asked in disbelief. “It's for both of your sons, so I'm assuming you did. Would you like to keep this appointment?” she questioned.

I kept the 1:30 appointment and then I checked my cell phone log. I scrolled back as far as 6 months and there was no evidence of me calling to book an appointment.

******************

As I drove to pick up the kids, I felt uneasy about how close the smoke and flames were to the city. There weren't any sirens or alerts on the radio. People were driving by, mowing their lawns, and living life as if there wasn't danger lurking.

Surely the fire department would alert us if it was too close, I remembered thinking.

While driving north across the river bridge, I noticed chunks of ash about 2 inches wide falling from the sky. I turned on the radio, and the local news stated that the fire had now jumped the river.

I started to panic since the doctor's office was on that side of the river. So I called my cousin and she was able to calm me down and assure me that things were fine, and we'll be alerted if we need to evacuate.

As we got out of the car to head into the clinic it looked as though we were standing in the aftermath of a nuclear war or apocalypse.

The sky was black, grey, orange and red. The ground was covered in ash that was falling from the sky.

Ten minutes into our session, the nurse came to warn us that we needed to evacuate from this neighborhood immediately.

I grabbed my boy's hands. Andreas was 6 and Romeo had just turned 5 a few months prior. As we approached the car, I received a call from a friend who was a first responder, advising that I gas up and leave the city as soon as possible.

“There's no time to go home, gas up and leave now,” she shouted.

Unfortunately, there was only one way in and out of the remote northern community. North of the city were winter roads, which had already thawed. I would have to drive south across the bridge to leave the city.

Although I was uncertain if I had time, I felt like it was important to stop at home to grab some things quickly, since it was on the way.

As I drove south, back across the bridge I could see houses on fire to the west of me near the river. Suddenly the adrenaline kicked in, and I was in fight or flight mode. I started to panic!

My fuel level was already low when I arrived at the gas station downtown, near my house. Luckily I only had to wait for 6 cars in the line ahead of me to gas up.

When I arrived home, I told the boys to stay inside the car and lock the door. “I promise, I will be back in 3 minutes, I just need to go get some important things.”

I gave them a quick kiss on the forehead and turned on a movie for them to watch in the overhead DVD player, before rushing inside.

But when I got inside, I froze, and I just stood there, as if I had forgotten what I was doing or how to move my legs.

I needed to take a deep breath and think for a moment.

“Was this real? Was all of our things going to burn? Would we make it out of the city? What if I'm forced to head north, surely we will run out of gas! There's nowhere to go north, how will we escape?”

After a minute of just standing there, I snapped myself out of the trance.

What should I grab, I wondered? I needed some clothes, so I found a large black outdoor garbage bag to put it in since it was light and easier to shove everything into and carry.

I entered the boys bedroom and realized that most of their clothes were still wet in the washer. I grabbed a few things that were dry. Then I grabbed my med's, and my inhaler and some documents and hurried back out to the car.

I overheard on the radio that a gas station near the southbound highway had caught fire and blown up, spreading the fire to both sides of the highway that I needed to take to exit the city.

My gut was telling me to go south even though I was being advised to now head north. I reached for my inhaler and inhaled a few deep breaths before I turned left to head south.

It was hot and smokey but I couldn't turn on the AC, or open the windows in the car.

I played a song for the boys to listen to, trying my best to keep them calm amongst the chaos. “Sing for me while I drive up the hill,” I encouraged them.

About 200 feet in the air beside me, on each side of the highway were flames and smoke. There were small chunks of charcoal still burning while floating through the air.

My thoughts were to stay as far from the flames as possible.

“Look at those animals running while they're on fire! It's really warm in here mommy, are we going to burn too?”

Those words sent shivers down my spine. I honestly wasn’t sure if we would burn alive or not.

“No sweetie,” I assured him, “Mommy will get us out of here, keep singing this song for me okay, let's sing it together.”

Everyone was driving recklessly, trying to avoid the flames. I noticed vehicles getting stuck in what seemed to be muddy, swampy, grass and people were having to leave their vehicle to escape by foot.

I'll never find the right words to describe what happened during the next 10 to 15 minutes before we managed to escape the city. As we drove southbound, I was overthinking everything, but the one thing that stood out in my mind was, what if I hadn't picked up my kids at 1:30.

They would have been displaced from me and possibly in more danger, having to evacuate with classmates and teachers in the opposite direction with no exit.

It was as if my guardian angels had somehow made the earlier appointment to make sure my boys were safe with me.

Yours sincerely,

The New me!

*************

Dr. M was right, journaling about “stuff” was beneficial. It helped me process what happened, helped me feel and release some emotions that I was having, in order to make space for new good things.

This was the first time I felt (less broken) in a while, but somehow, I was able to rewrite my narrative and I had “fixed” the part's of me that needed healing.