The Great Flood: One Year Later

Yesterday, someone asked me if I was still having "PTSD associated with the flood" given that the one year anniversary is coming up. To be honest, it's something I have been thinking about a lot anyway, with the one year anniversary on Monday.

The short answer is yes. Yes, every time it rains I wonder if it's going to happen again. The worst part of it by far was not losing the stuff, but being deathly afraid that Mike wasn't going to make it home from campus that Friday morning. The fear that everything we worked so hard for-- and watched my parents work so hard for-- would be ruined, and could we handle the stress of that?  Hearing Charlie cry as we rode away from my parents’ house not knowing what we would be going back to, not being sure that I could keep my babies (human and fur) safe.  Crying as we left the safe house on a trailer, watching my parents still there and not knowing if they would get out safely or what would happen to them.  We can—and did—replace stuff, but the emotional aspect of that day will forever be burned into our minds and hearts.  I suspect that I would survive it if it happened again, but the emotional trauma would be extreme.

And to be clear, it absolutely sucked to throw out our first (and probably only) real, grown up furniture.  I only went to the storage unit with Mike once, because I just couldn’t, and the guy working the front desk (a table in the parking lot) told us to “have fun” after we signed in.  Mike took me aside and told I needed to calm down or I could be arrested for verbally assaulting someone , which if you know me, is pretty un-characteristic (it wasn’t that serious, but really? Have fun?). To have movers come and bring what was left to our new house, and we were so excited thinking that the dining table survived, only to take the plastic wrap off and see all the black stuff on the top of it.  The only furniture we salvaged from the unit was: our dining chairs (which I am very attached to now), our entryway table and one bookcase.  It sucks to STILL go to use certain items and realize that we lost them in the flood (cookbooks, ugh). It happens at least once every month or so.

It sucked to have my wallet stolen while we were at the shelter.  We were all in the same boat, and to have someone take my wallet (which was later found sans the cash and Costco card) was a kick while we were down to say the least.  I hope whoever took it needed it.

The stress of trying to figure out what was going on sucked—did we have a house to go back to? Did the new house flood? Could we still close? How were we going to afford to replace everything? When would we get back home? Would someone find my keys and license (since they were in a Ziploc together) and loot my parents’ house? Would our cars run? Filling out paperwork, constantly being on the phone.  Me, continuing to work on my just-picked-up online course and teach it like nothing had happened even though I wanted to just cry and curl up in a ball.  Mike missing a month of work so that we could do what we needed to do, catch up and get to a place where we could move on.

In the past year, we have moved on.  As much of a horrible, emotional, stressful thing it was, Mike and I both attribute positives to it too.  The most important being that we realized that there was such an amazing community around us and that we are so lucky to have the support of so many wonderful people.  From the volunteers who rescued us (we still don’t know how the heck they coordinated everything to make it happen), putting their own lives and health at risk, to the volunteers at Celtic Studios who ran around getting us anything we needed and brought us hot meals.  Jessica and Sam, Matt and Molly, who housed us without question and welcomed us with open arms into their homes, not knowing when and if we could leave.  Matt and Molly cleared out space for us and had Oscar sleep in their room so that we could be there.  All of our friends who helped Mike clear out the storage unit.

We also had amazing support from friends and family from far away.  Jessica’s family and friends almost immediately started sending us Amazon gift cards so that we could purchase essentials that we didn’t have, which was almost everything.  One of Mike’s former colleagues and his wife who sent us a Target gift card and a new wallet when they found out mine was stolen.  Marissa, who came over with gift cards for us from her friends and family.  So many family and friends—many of whom we hadn’t talked to in a long time—either sent us money or contributed to a GoFundMe that Stephanie set up.  We were able to replace our car keys, replace our main furniture, purchase essentials while we were away from home, all because of their generosity.  We promised that if we had more than we needed, that we would donate any extra to worthy causes.  We made three $500 donations to: Together Baton Rouge, The LSU Small Animal Clinic and another one I can’t remember right now.  All because of the generosity of not only our family and friends but in some cases, complete strangers.  Mike’s parents helped us immensely with his student loans which not only helped us in the short term, but changed our lives in the long term.

The flood was also a catalyst for us to discover what is truly important.  We discovered that for us, becoming debt-free is way more important than having nice stuff to “impress people with” and so we’ve been working steadfastly toward that goal since.  It has made us appreciate what we have more, instead of constantly thinking about “the next thing” (though I still struggle with that on some days).  It has made, me specifically, concentrate more on experiences than things (though again, I still struggle).

It also brought Mike and me even closer.  Going through an event like this together can do one of two things to a couple: break them up or bring them closer.  We are so blessed that it brought us closer.  I don’t remember us having any large arguments during the course of rebuilding, and we took and continue to take solace with each other.  We were just talking yesterday about how we are the only people who will ever truly know what it’s like to have gone through what we went through.  We’re bonded, glued together for eternity, even more now because of this experience.  It brought us closer to my parents, too.

Like childbirth, this experience proved to me just how much you can take without breaking.  Through all of the fear, the stress, the experience before/during/after, I survived. We survived.  You can take so much more than you ever think you can.  The part that messes you up is on the other end, the remembering and processing that comes after.

If I’m being totally honest, though, it has really shaken my feelings about Louisiana,  Pre-flood (because our lives will forever be pre-and post-flood now), we loved it here.  I hated the rain, but it was manageable.  Post-flood, it just makes me wonder if it’s a good long term place to be.  It makes me think about climate change and how it’s all happening so fast.  Everyone says not to worry because it’s not a “normal” event (some even say “rare”) but the truth is that there is no normal anymore. We simply do not know.

It has given me a new compassion toward refugees.  I know first hand what it was like to be a refugee with literally only our backpacks.  To show up somewhere I'd never been before and need everything. To have to fully depend on others to feed us, shelter us and take care of us.  It makes me increasingly nervous about what will happen for the influx of "climate refugees" that is predicted as climate change proceeds.

But I also know that we can’t run away from things just because they were, or might be, hard or terrible.  We are in Louisiana, living our lives, and we are going to do that for as long as it suits us.  For the most part, we have moved on, but every few weeks, there are flashbacks, connections, or something that makes it all come rushing back.  We are processing the trauma still, and probably will be until we die.  I am eternally grateful that Charlie was so young and that he won’t remember it.  I am grateful for all the positives that it has brought and will carry the pain with me for as long as I live.