On a bright Patriot's Day in 2013 I stood at the finish line of the Boston Marathon waiting for my husband to cross. I was so excited to see his happy face take those final steps towards this huge accomplishment - steps he never took. What happened next took my breath away. Bombs exploded, claiming lives, injuring hundreds physically, and scarring hundreds more with post-traumatic stress disorder.
I am one of those people.
For years I managed to naturally combat the anxiety that was consuming me until July 14, 2016. It was an ordinary day for us, we had enjoyed the beach, sun and a visit from friends, but as I sat down to catch the evening news I was faced with images from the Bastille Day attack in Nice, France. I woke up in the middle of that night in a complete panic attack - my body folded in the fetal position. Cradled by my husband like an infant, I knew my PTSD had been re-triggered by the trauma I had witnessed in that news clip. This time it was different, worse, and completely unbearable. Severe anxiety and insomnia took hold of me and before long I feared sleeping, eating, and found it difficult to be in my own skin. On August 3rd 2016, I voluntarily sought hospitalization, and since that day, I have worked tirelessly toward healing.
Our world is changing and acts of terrorism are becoming a daily media story that is spun a million different ways. Some grow numb to these stories, for others, like myself, it is a challenge as we try to forget and work toward reclaiming our lives. As I continue to grow in search of peace, even years later, I find I'm being called to share my experience so that I can hopefully help other survivors.
As part of my healing I offer this safe space, built for growth, and deeply rooted in the belief that we can still bloom despite our pain.