One Year Ago

I'm not sure if many of you know this actual story...

Date: January 18, 2009

Time: 5:45 AM

Nicole woke up in a panic. She could hear the voices outside her window and a loud CRASH! Half asleep, she raised herself to look out the window. HOT. The window was hot. But it is January, the coldest day of the year, in fact. The wind chill was in the negatives. Snow was falling on the ground. But flames poured toward her face.

I fell asleep with my bedroom door locked. Of the five of us, I was the only one who chose to stay in that night, unwilling to face the cold yet again and tired from my car search throughout the day. I kept hearing noises downstairs. Terrified, I retreated to my locked bedroom, with Gwenevere in tow. My voice trembled with fear of being alone and Trevor worried for me on the phone. He didn't hang up until I fell asleep.

Clearly, the neighbor's house was on fire. Ours could be next. We needed to get out of there. Nicole ran to my door to wake me. We were the only two there; everyone else had returned home for the weekend. She rattled the door to my room, trying to wake me. I screamed hysterically, thinking she was one of the bums from the alley behind the house trying to get in to steal things or rape me. Somehow, I heard Nicole screaming my name over and over again. I quieted and asked her what was wrong? She told me the neighbor's house was on fire, we needed to get outside. I jumped out of bed, kicking Gwenevere off. She ran under the bed, but I would not know this for six hours. I grabbed my phone and my glasses and closed the door behind me.

Running down the stairs, I was in a state of delirium. We needed jackets and boots. Of that I was sure. We could leave everything else, however precious it was to me, but our health was crucial. I texted Trevor as I ran, "my house burning," probably not the best idea but I must admit that thinking to grab our coats and shoes was my only rational thought until I got outside. We took the extra 2 minutes to put our stuff on, our house was not yet on fire.

Nicole and I burst outside and the contrasting temperatures hit me. It was icy, still snowing and in the negatives but the heat of the flames poured at me. The cops were standing outside of the neighbor's evicted house. Why were they there? Were they burning it down? We asked them. They shouted back, thinking we were crazy. They had been at the station across the street and saw the house go up in flames. I stood in front of the fire - in awe, terrified. The cops screamed at me until I moved. I ran across the street and went around.

The fire trucks arrived in less than 2 minutes. Thank god for quick reaction times. We called some people, it's not really that important except for the funny fact that I called our roomate Jo before I called my own mother. I wanted to know what to do. Clearly, Jo, in Cincinatti could do nothing. Around this time Nicole went into a full-blown panic attack. The bodies were being carried out of our neighbor's house. It turns out they were squatters or bums, it was never really made clear to us. I turned us away from the scene, unsure if they were alive or dead,but I had decided that the trauma of the night was enough for us.

Despite our coats we were freezing, and soon the police hustled us into the back of a police car. Warm, but the seats were hard. We awaited Nicole's parent's arrival. Luckily, they only lived in the next town over. What happened after that is a blur of waiting and texting people and trying to take pictures on our phones and making athe best of a shitty situation. We did not know until the end (around 7am) that our house had even caught on fire. The firefighters kept running inside and I kept panicking about Gwenevere. It was the only thing I thought about saving during the entire fire.

Finally they let us walk into the house to retrieve our valuables, promising us the ability to remove everything later in the day when the sun came up. The images of the house are burned in my mind. There was ash smeared on the walls and the carpet was soggy and dirty. My door had been closed by the fighters opened it, just in case. There were holes in Jo's ceiling with water pouring through. On the third floor, you could see out into the night. It was at this point we realized that our roof had caught fire from the flames pouring out.

This one event, has traumatized me. It is hard to believe that it's been almost a year and yet the memory and the images are seared into my mind. Most nights, I dream about fire. I am terrified of it.

Not all fire of course. If it's in a controlled environment I'm okay to an extent. I can begin to trust that it will be okay. Bonfire pits are okay if only with someone close. Every time the fire alarm went off at our townhouse in Ohio (where we lived after the fire at the Dollhouse) I ran for the door. You would think my fear would subside or that it would be constantly present. It's not.

I don't like thinking about THE fire or fire in general. I should go and talk to Dr. May about it but I'm not ready for that. The only time I really think about fire is when I see someone with a lighter near me.

My fear was particularly heightened in September when there were the big fires. They affected people close to me and I'm pretty sure I had several panic attacks that week. But I'm working on overcoming my fear of fire.

Never will I trust it or play with it again as I did when I was little. I have learned of the dangers and horrors it could inact, firsthand. However, I want to lead myself toward a healthy fear of fire as opposed to panic attacks and terror.

Have you ever been traumatized by something and lived in terror of it?