I read the words tonight that the storm is officially here and realized that those words mean something very different to me as a survivor. Honestly, I wanted to ask them when exactly they thought the storm ever left. Sometimes, I feel like I’ve come so far and learned so much. Then there are moments like today where I am reminded of just how far I have to go. There is something about the weather and knowing how much they are manipulating it that creates so much fear in my system. I have always hated storms, and I sense so strongly what the atmosphere carries when the whole town is suddenly in fear that it can feel a little crippling until I get myself into the Word and grounded in truth.

I spent most of today wanting to curl up in bed with a good book, but there were some things that had to get done. I took a break to get out of the house for a bit to get some lunch and the atmosphere was so off. The more I watched the clouds, the more curious I got, going down a couple of rabbit holes that I don’t need to be wasting my time going down. But off I went, headfirst, and I fell fast and hard.

I started thinking about different things and then realized when I ran a red light that I was starting to really dissociate and needed to get back in my body. Weather has always been a trigger, from the tornado in the Wizard of Oz to being in the front yard fighting with my brother over who was going to bring the rabbit inside before a storm. We were around 7 or 8, and lightning hit the ground a few feet from where we were standing and ran through the ground and up the wired rabbit fence we had built. Needless to say, the adults ended up bringing the rabbit inside and I had to listen to my mom laugh as she told people that story over and over again for years.

It can feel like the trauma is all connected with an invisible string pulling you from one memory to the next on days like today. Nothing is wrong, yet everything feels so much harder than it needs to be. It’s harder to make decisions, you want to isolate, your nervous system knows something is happening, no matter how much you try to put on a brave face. Yesterday, everyone was out panic buying for the storm, but this evening, some of the stores and restaurants had closed early, and the roads were nearly clear of traffic. There was an eeriness in the air that caused an uneasiness to rise up in me. It became very difficult to stay present and focus on the road. I went into prayer and even that pulled me into the prayer and away from my current reality.

The emptiness of the town started to really get to me. It started to feel a little too much like a zombie apocalypse for my liking. So, we skipped the store and went through a drive thru because I needed some mayo packets. This just played into what I was already feeling… not ordering food, but asking for as many mayo packets as they could give us, because who gets to eat normal meals during a zombie apocalypse? The worker hooked us up though with a bag full, so many that my daughter decided to count them all when we got home. The fun continued as she dropped one and my piranha puppy snatched it up. It was quite the intervention, but I retrieved the mayo packet without needing a cleanup on isle 7.

I finally got to settle down for the night and took the time to scroll through some of the weather updates. So much unnecessary fear being created by people who actually have the platform to give intelligent, helpful information. I just want a back massage and a hot cup of tea at this point. The freezing rain will come to stay through the night and move out tomorrow. I’ll get to sleep in since the roads will be iced and life will go on. Perhaps for me, life will go on as normal, since there is nothing normal about my life. My littles will see that all the trees in the yard did not fall on our house, there will again be warmth and electricity even if it goes away for a bit, and the zombies will not be lurking in the dark waiting for them.

Maybe I’m just weird, or maybe all survivors get a little anxious when something out of the ordinary like an ice storm in the South happens. Maybe lots of us have littles wondering who will take care of them if things get too bad and we are too dissociated to cope. The struggle is real for so many.

It’s an opportunity to draw close to Yeshua, the only One who can truly keep us safe. The One who spoke to the raging sea, “Peace, be still!” I’m so thankful that I know Him and so many of my littles have come to know Him. It shifts everything, especially during a storm. I can’t imagine facing zombies, real or perceived, without Him. I love Him so much.