Resetting bones (or emotions)...

Good things never come easily.  The work for dealing with PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) is quite a bit liking having to re-set a bone that healed incorrectly.  You need a fresh wound that heals straight in order to have a chance of having real function again.  If I want to get better, I have to re-live my experiences in the shooting, and the hospital afterwards.

On that note, last night I became aware of a possible small explanation of why I might have issues with taking responsibility for things.  Lets go back 6 years ago, in my job at the Jewish Federation (insert wavy dream effects)....

Paging Rabbi White and paging Rabbi Black.... These were our code words.  When used over the intercom one meant to evacuate the building by the front door, the other by the back door.  I was a member of our workplace 'safety' committee (really a joke in retrospect), and we had discussed this plan. I didn't really feel that it would be smart to pick up a phone to announce something over the intercom when someone has a gun in your face.  But, since we couldn't get a 'silent' buzzer system installed, this remained our only option if the worst happened.  On that day, the worst did happen, and I couldn't remember which was the code word for 'evacuate by the back door'.  I doubt it would have helped if I would have remembered--in fact, it might have made things worse if everyone decided to run to the front desk to ask me what I meant by the announcement (we never had any drills).  But, because I couldn't remember, my only option was to put my hands up an do what he said (take him to my manager).  I was powerless to stop him.


Despite remembering all of this in the past, yesterday I had a flood of emotion when I was thinking about it in relation to my fear of responsibility.  I realized that my brain fart in that moment 'could' have potentially cost someone their life.  It was my responsibility to make sure the office was safe.  Seriously--it was in my job description.  Even though I don't think I made any 'wrong' choices, I still feel like I failed my responsibility and people got hurt/killed.  Then I felt guilty as I realized that perhaps if I had confronted him, or picked up the phone and screamed for people to evacuate through the back door because there was a shooter, then perhaps fewer people would have been hurt.  I probably would have died--but I could have saved lives through my death. 


I know this isn't logical, and I'd rather that anyone reading this doesn't try to convince me of my silliness (because I already know).  We never had drills.  I was relatively new at the job.  It didn't even mater anyways.  You can't change the past.  Blah, blah blah... Thanks, I appreciate the reassurance.  BUT, part of my PTSD recovery is acknowledging those feelings of failure; realizing that they is nothing to be ashamed of, and that they are normal in the circumstances I was in. It's normal to wish I could have done something to stop the shooter.   But, there was no way I could have succeeded against an angry man with a gun.  I knew that then, and I know it now.  My only rational choice was to put my hands up and do exactly what I did.  Whether or not I remembered which Rabbi to page doesn't even matter.

My belly heart (can you see it?) says Happy Mothers day moms!!!  

P.S. I know this isn't really a 'positive' uplifting blog... but I try to keep things light.  Thanks for reading :)