Probably. Travis lyric. You know I partied with them backstage once? Ghomeshi was there too. That was the beginning of him hating me. Radmad and I were in proper form.
Anyway here I am at the age of seventeen on Easter weekend on the BK bridge, visiting my secret older boyfriend and sussing out my future playground. That was an interesting hair period. Also, you may notice the WTC. True I lived there when shit went down, you’ll know that if you’ve been following along. I was blogging then too. (a post from the day before).
Now, it occurs to me that the anniversary of this event is approaching and, embarrassingly, or more appropriately, terrifyingly, the date does affect me. I have been pulverized in thread forums and ridiculed for my ptsd, been bullied into not speaking up about it. I am happy personally that last year was all good, the one before it no, the one before that god no. I received a death threat on one anniversary that gutted me, it was awful, I barfed three times and had to bail on my own event. People were coming, it was a nightmare.
A good friend Sean Ward said to never ever read comments leading up to an event. I pretty much fail in that department. Another blogger has a google alert on her name. I don’t do that, so glad I don’t oh man.
Alright so, I did go cuckoo bananas at one point in time. It is embarrassing to talk about but I am grateful to my family oh so much for being supportive during that time and knowing how to poke fun of it with me despite how painful it really was. My brother is really good at that I love him so much.
My therapist and I talk about it. I am a functioning, capable woman(child ahha) with none too many headcase problems. I am a workhorse hyper-career achieving focused freak though. Screwing up is not an option for me essentially so I can be let loose.
Because of my high-functioning stress levels and I guess, mania, and legitimate stressful events that I keep my head down and just motor through, that stress has the ability to come out in other ways. If I don’t sleep, that’s how it can begin, combined and due to possibly something or a number of things that stress me out, which can bring on an anxiety attack, which I can manage and talk myself out of.
But then, I think about my big mouth, my blog, and get paranoid. Combo of the coincidence of 9/11 and having a personal fear/sensitivity and on the regular paranoia in general sometimes, I dunno, something in my brain is permanently damaged, a screw is loose, unhinged thanks to this little amazing event and my territory online.
Ok I will just spit it out.
After the first plane hit, which I heard, and by the time we got up to the roof black fighter jets were zooming overhead like something out of transformers gi joe and face off, remember, the pentagon was hit too and another plane went missing, we didn’t dream this up. It was magnificent and later suffering ptsd from this moment, gruesome. You think regular people with healthy obsessions regarding war, conspiracy theories… I was not keen on paying attention to anything period. We were sickened by it. For days, which turned into weeks. I lived there for well after. I have stories.
The Air Show, hearing airplanes like that, it makes me feel like I am on the drop zone going down down down doown terribly down your stomach keeps dropping below you taken away from you. I felt this just recently on a less high version of it at the CNE and was morbidly fascinated by going on it over and over and over again with my brother, despite the terror practically puking up out of my throat.
The thing with the air show is it happens every year before 9/11 So I get to be terrified for three weeks. Three fucking weeks I suppress it. It has ruined my life on so many occasions outside of the anniversary though too.
Recently I saw a photo of the falling man. I shouldn’t have looked at it cos it’s that shit that sets me off, but I did and partially glad cos it made me realize there are others like me out there, somehow affected like this. The photographer of that shot for instance. They interviewed him about it. I don’t like to share these details because it’s super exploitation-feeling. He said he saw hundreds that day and captured them. When I hear about people jumping from buildings I have to know every detail about it even though it repulses me.
My number one pet peeve supreme is people wasted at parties at 3 in the morning trying to scream conspiracy theories at me, I tell them to 1. shut the f- up and 2. I do not give a f- which makes them CONTINUE. It never ends well, I end up from dusk til dawning them into regretting their poor etiquette and insensitivities like that. Quite the spectacle!
Blah sorry to bum you out. I now make a point to say nothing on the day of or near to it cos it freaks me out and it never won’t, I also can’t partake or be expected to be reliable for any sort of function either.
Ok I feel better now. I pretty much cried my way through writing this. Oh women!
You can see the Towers behind me in this picture in the distance. They look further than what actually were/felt at time.
