During morning snuggles today, the 20 month old Dude suddenly looked around and said "buvuh?" in the most adorably inquisitive voice.
He'd never said that word before and it took me a moment to get it.
"Brother? Are you looking for your brother Bear?"
We giggled and I hugged him tight and I said I love you.
Happy tears. Best. new. word. ever.
I know it's 9/11 and we're doing all the remembering. I was even going to put out the flag and maybe talk about it with my son. Except turns out? I. just. can't.
I remember watching TV like I did every morning as I got ready for work. The first tower on fire. Calling my husband. Watching the second plane hit. Crying to my husband on the phone, sobbing "all those people all those people." The collapse. And the other. No one really worked at work that day.
It's too vivid and too painful. It makes me afraid of the world and threatens to steal my ability to function in it. Because that's how my anxiety works - things exist, therefore I fear them. Most of the time I'm in control and lately I've been doing so well I nearly convinced myself the anxiety is gone. But then something triggers it and I'm breathless and scared of everything and nothing all over again, teetering on the edge of a pit only I can see.
For me and so many others, 9/11 is the mother of all triggers.
You'll have to forgive me for not liking and commenting and sharing today. I promise I haven't forgotten. Will never, ever forget in ways that I think only people who struggle with an anxiety disorder can understand. I'm going to focus on the good things, because they are my shield against the darker demons in my head.
I can't ever forget the bad things. They will always haunt me. What I have to do is work at remembering that there are so many more good things in the world, just waiting for me to embrace them. Two of whom, in fact, live right here in this house.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to listen to my toddler babble about wuv.