I am the proud owner of a little, red microwave, and although it is petite, it is just right for my tiny, red kitchen. My cute microwave has all of the buttons I need and very few bells and whistles. Every time I use my little, red microwave I remember why I have it and I shudder.
You see, six years ago I almost died in a fire (you can read about it here: 20 Seconds to Toast, The Tale of the Wooden Spoons, Overexposed.) The aftermath left me burned, depressed, homeless and without much stuff to call my own. But, I was relatively intact and I had my faith and my dog plus a lot of support, which helped me survive. After three months of living with amazing friends while my place was gutted and renovated, it was time to move home. As a welcome gift, a VERY kind neighbor, Ray, gave me a very nice, white microwave. It was HUGE, had a lot of options and was an extravagant gift at a time when I had very little cash or material possessions to call my own. It was so kind of him and I still get emotional when I think about it.
It was a very good microwave. It even came with me when I purchased my very own home in 2014. And although I am very happy and content with my life, sometimes a little bit of PTSD rears its ugly head and it takes me a second, or four hundred to come back to the present day.
One mild autumn day in 2016 something odd happened. I was home cooking dinner (very odd) and noticed a weird smell. I assumed it was my gas stove heating up so I wasn't too concerned at first, but as I finished cooking and sat down to eat, the hideous smell remained. It was very strong and reminded me of the terrible chemical smell that haunted me from the fire. Immediately my stomach churned. Even Zeus was upset and begged to go outside where he proceeded to sit a safe distance from the kitchen. He warily watched me through the window as I began to investigate the origin of the smell, google gas leaks and call a friend. Before I knew it I had convinced myself that my house was going to blow up imminently, with me in it! I joined my dog outside and called 911. The operator told me to leave my home and wait for the fire department to respond. Gulp, maybe I wasn't being paranoid. Maybe there was something seriously wrong after all. Well, the operator didn't have to tell me twice! I frantically grabbed my purse, phone, and dog, got into my car and drove down the street, shaking uncontrollably while I waited for the fire department to arrive.
My mind was racing as I pleaded with God over and over again to please keep me safe and prevent another fire. While I was certainly scared at the thought of an explosion, I was more terrified of being trapped in a burning building again. Just the thought of it and having to recover again almost paralyzed me, because I was certain that would be my fate since I was on a first-name basis with Murphy and his stupid law. As I sat frozen with fear, my next door neighbor noticed and walked down to see if everything was okay. He looked at me strangely and obviously thought I was overreacting as I told him what was happening.
I was NOT going to blow-up that night! Instead I let myself be a shaking, crying, hyperventilating mess, because I knew there was no controlling my reaction at that point. Adorably, my dog was equally upset, but also confused because, weren't we just going for a ride???
I.DID.NOT.CARE.
I was NOT going to blow-up that night! Instead I let myself be a shaking, crying, hyperventilating mess, because I knew there was no controlling my reaction at that point. Adorably, my dog was equally upset, but also confused because, weren't we just going for a ride???
Finally the fire department arrived with sirens blaring and flashing, cue the ugly/hysterical cry Oprah warned us against. I was in full-blown panic mode by this point and nothing any of them said helped calm me down. They thoroughly investigated my house and could not determine the source of the odor, but after testing everything with their fancy equipment they assured me that there was no gas leak and it was safe to return.
I have to admit, I did not really believe them. But I finally reentered my home and tried to calm down. Dinner was left uneaten and I eventually went to bed, but even one wink of sleep was out of the question. I obsessively made sure the windows in my master bedroom could be opened in case I needed to make a hasty escape and slept fully clothed with my purse nearby, an extra cell phone charger and anything else I might need if the house went up in smoke. And I prayed. A lot.
The next day the smell was still there but less intense. I started scouring my kitchen trying to find out what had caused it. Do you know what it was?
Somehow part of the plastic on the inside door had burned and it had created that awful, acrid smell. Being completely rational I immediately hauled it to the outside trashcan because there was no way I could ever trust it to work properly. I did not want to go through another fire...... And that is how I came to own my little, red microwave.
It was that damn white microwave!
Somehow part of the plastic on the inside door had burned and it had created that awful, acrid smell. Being completely rational I immediately hauled it to the outside trashcan because there was no way I could ever trust it to work properly. I did not want to go through another fire...... And that is how I came to own my little, red microwave.
Of course there are many more instances of this ugly reality, like the time I went to see a movie. Just minding my own business, looking forward to relaxing and enjoying a matinee, no big deal..... Well, I had just settled in for the show when the fire alarm sounded. My eyes were as wide as saucers as I furtively looked around in a growing panic. I grabbed my purse and was about to leave when a theater employee came in and said there was no fire, it was just a false alarm. Whew. I settled back in but my heart was pounding and I was still feeling nervous. The lights went out and then the fire alarm sounded again! What?? An employee rushed in and said it was REAL and we all needed to exit the theater calmly.
Calm was not exactly my response as I raced past individuals who were walking in super slow-mo. What was wrong with them? Didn't they know we could all die at any second? And in my irrational state I think I even pushed past children. Shudder. PTSD brain was firmly in charge and I was laser-focused on surviving. Ration gave way to panic and in my mind all I could see was the thick, black, billowing smoke that almost choked the life out of me in 2012. I felt the suffocating feeling of not being able to breathe, the terror of being trapped, and the pain as my hand was seared from touching the metal staircase. All of that panic and all of that terror because of what turned out to be a false alarm. It took a year before I would even step foot in a theater again.
Um..........................................................seriously lady?
Calm was not exactly my response as I raced past individuals who were walking in super slow-mo. What was wrong with them? Didn't they know we could all die at any second? And in my irrational state I think I even pushed past children. Shudder. PTSD brain was firmly in charge and I was laser-focused on surviving. Ration gave way to panic and in my mind all I could see was the thick, black, billowing smoke that almost choked the life out of me in 2012. I felt the suffocating feeling of not being able to breathe, the terror of being trapped, and the pain as my hand was seared from touching the metal staircase. All of that panic and all of that terror because of what turned out to be a false alarm. It took a year before I would even step foot in a theater again.
It has been over six years now, but there are still things that trigger panic. Last week I attended an active shooter training. You might be thinking, Robin, you were in a fire, not a shooting, how could an active shooter training trigger PTSD? Well, I'm glad you asked. The training was an intense three hours. Our psychological response during a life-threatening event was covered in detail. It was crucial to know how panic can cost you your life in that type of situation. To demonstrate he played 911 calls and showed photos from active shooter events. Then he played a video that had nothing to do with a shooting.
It was a video of people trying to escape the Station Nightclub in Rhode Island. In 2003 one hundred people died and two hundred and thirty were injured when a fire broke out in that nightclub. The video he showed was from a survivor's cell phone. People were in a panic, pushing and shoving each other as they attempted to escape a raging fire and the thick, billowing smoke. Thirty-one of them died in the hallway at the entrance of the building. Others died steps from an open window, and still others were next to emergency exits when they died. Panic had cost them their lives. It was tragic. Sitting in my chair as the video played I looked calm; however, my heart rate rose to over 140 and I was near tears. It was extremely upsetting and my physical reaction lasted the rest of the day. I had been there. Just outside of my own front door, with the thick, billowing smoke stealing my very breath I could not figure out what to do. Panic almost killed me.
It was a video of people trying to escape the Station Nightclub in Rhode Island. In 2003 one hundred people died and two hundred and thirty were injured when a fire broke out in that nightclub. The video he showed was from a survivor's cell phone. People were in a panic, pushing and shoving each other as they attempted to escape a raging fire and the thick, billowing smoke. Thirty-one of them died in the hallway at the entrance of the building. Others died steps from an open window, and still others were next to emergency exits when they died. Panic had cost them their lives. It was tragic. Sitting in my chair as the video played I looked calm; however, my heart rate rose to over 140 and I was near tears. It was extremely upsetting and my physical reaction lasted the rest of the day. I had been there. Just outside of my own front door, with the thick, billowing smoke stealing my very breath I could not figure out what to do. Panic almost killed me.
Six years later my dog and I both still live with it. The slightest bit of smoke and we are both nervous, even when it's just my cooking! I unplug every small appliance all the time whether at home or work. PTSD is serious and scary. I can joke about it only because it is not worse for me. There are others who suffer much more than I do. It does not just "go away" and is not something that can be easily controlled, although anyone can learn to cope if they have help and a lot of patience. Thankfully, my faith is the biggest source of peace in my life. It helps me control the panic, although it usually takes me a just a little bit to get my bearings and "let go and let God" as they say. That is MUCH easier said than done..... But, for whatever reason God has decided to keep me around for awhile, and even though I have battle scars from living this life, I am grateful to still be still living it. Just beware that if you are around the next time I see smoke, smell smoke, or thing there is an imminent explosion, I may panic and push you out of my way as I try to escape. Don't judge. I'm a work in progress. 😊
