Mood Swings

I was feeling really good today. Like the definition of happiness. Maybe it was the weather, my dogs, my baby, or the mocha velvet ice from PJ's. But in an instant, my thoughts drift to somber-things. And I feel depression edging it's way into my mind, and listening to "Ave Maria" isn't helping. I figure I'll let myself indulge in self pity for a bit and maybe by the time I finish writing this it will be out of my system.

The Hurricane is what of course has brought me down once again; the storm that never stops raging in my mind.
Last night I saw some relatives-in-laws that I hadn't seen in ages. So of course the topic of conversation was Katrina. We told our summarized tale for the millionth time, and as before, instances that I had forgotten about popped up and flooded my mind. But as I sit in my new house, surrounded by sparse furniture that is not my own, with only a few pictures that were salvaged from the old house, I miss New Orleans, I miss my possessions, I miss my old life terribly. As the tears start to fall, I know I'm feeling sorry for myself; after all it was only possessions that I lost, and maybe a bit of what would be my childhood (if your tweny-somethings could be considered childhood).
I wish I could finish my post on the events of Hurricane Katrina, but I find I can only write about it for a little while until I force myself to do something else or risk not being able to move on, ever.
I miss the countless photo albums that never will be replaced. What if I forget those people, those memories? I mean, remembering your kindergarden class doesn't get any easier as time goes by. And I am one that has to hold on to things, that has to remember everything about my past or else risk forgetting who I am. I think about all the pictures that Jacob will never get to see of his mommy when she was his age. I think about the odds and ends; especially wedding presents that I had carefully placed around my house and that now lie useless under piles of furniture, mold, mud and other debris. I think of all the things that I haven't even remembered that I've lost. I think of not being able to go to my mom's house on the way home from work. I think about my former work, my first venture into the professional world of nursing, and how it so drastically changed my life. I think about how it's been a year since I graduated nursing school, and how there isn't a Charity anymore. I think about my Nursing Degree, my Charity Pin, my high school diploma, my yearbooks that I will never see again. I think about the plants that I had acquired, that I had nursed back to health, that I had carefully moved inside to protect them from the weather, and then seeing the graveyard of plants that had sat underwater for weeks. I think about my fish tank, silently standing where I left it, unlike all the other furniture in my entire house, but not a fish in sight. I start to mentally kick myself in the head knowing that people have lost their lives, their mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, children, and that I got lucky. I cry for them too.
As I continue through my misery, I recall the events during the week that I will never forget. Like driving away from my pets, both me and my husband crying because we were abandoning them. I've only seen my husband cry one other time in my life. I remember watching Nagin on the tv as he said "this is not a test." I remember having to treat patients all the while wanting to run away. I remember not knowing where my husband was and wondering if he was alive, and if I was going to make it out of New Orleans alive as the first news of the levee breaks reached us. I remember not being able to contact anyone. I remember Wednesday night, possibly the worst night of my life, watching over people that reminded me of my parents and grandparents, crying silently as I walked away, running into another nurse and embracing her as we cried together, out of site from the patients. I remember how delirious I felt as I ran up 8 flights of stairs not having slept or ate properly in 3 days and seeing a helictoper wisk away a dr's family members, but no one else. I remember thinking we were never getting out of here.
Then I remember getting out of there. I remember boating down Napolean, wondering if we were going to run over any bodies.
I remember as we walked around the avenue, watching looters walk in and out of the Rite Aid as police looked on. I remember when it started raining and we shivered in the cold, and I remember that rain feeling so good. I remember standing in the middle of the flatbed of our rescue truck, grabbing on to Jeremy as we were smooshed in between 30 or so people. I remember looking down St. Charles, only seeing limbs, no street at all. I remember going down River Road, ducking as the fallen power lines dangled over our heads as we drove past. I remember being on that truck as we reached the interstate, and seeing the thousands of people that had already been dropped off. I remember separating from a coworker to see if we could get a better place in line for the busses, and succeeding. I remember smoking a cigarette and it feeling so good. I remember being pressed flat against a national guardsman as the busses came by and the crowds of people would rush the barracades. I remember that I started crying when I was almost separated from jeremy, and not being able to move and barely breathe as they crowd was relentless. Then I remember that a female guardsman made eye contact with me. She grabbed me and threw me on the bus, as I frantically grabbed for Jeremy's outstreched fingers. I remember as we finally got on the bus and looking out to those people and their eyes, and saying outloud "just go, just go, just get the hell out of here" And then I remember finally leaving. And wondering if I would ever see my animals again. And how I would never forgive myself if they died because of my actions.
And then I mentally kick myself in the head again because they didn't. Because they are all ok.
And damn this song ave maria that has shuffled its way back on the playlist.
And I wonder if my crying is bad for the baby, and I know it probably is abut I can't help it.
I think about all the people who couldn't shake their depression after the storm, and ended their own lives. And I think about their families. And I think about all the people I know that have commited suicide and the people that I know that tried to but failed.
As a new song begins to play, I think about my piano and how much I miss playing it, and I vow to practice every day when I get a new one. I start feeling better. It's time to snap out of it and splash some water on my face and go to bed early tonight, hoping tomorrow that the definition of happiness will be with me always.