Why am I here?
"Why am I here?" It's a question that's haunted philosophers, theologians, and, well, me when I accidentally zone out during Netflix binges. But fear not, dear reader, for today I'm tackling this existential enigma with all the wit and wisdom of a caffeinated sloth on a Monday morning.
So, why am I here, besides avoiding chores? Well, gather 'round, folks, because I'm about to spill the tea on why I decided to unleash my thoughts onto the internet like a slightly more articulate version of a Twitter rant.
First off, let's address the elephant in the room: I'm not exactly qualified to be doling out life advice. I mean, I once mistook a potted plant for a cactus and tried to water it with Gatorade. But hey, we all have our moments, right?
Despite my questionable decision-making skills, I'm here because I've got stories to tell, insights to share, and a sneaking suspicion that I'm not the only one who's ever wondered if aliens are just socially awkward introverts like the rest of us.
But beyond the laughs (and occasional facepalms), there's a deeper reason for starting this blog. Because let's face it—life can be a rollercoaster of emotions, a maze of uncertainty, and occasionally, a dumpster fire of epic proportions. And sometimes, all we need is a friendly voice in the chaos, a virtual shoulder to cry on, or just someone to remind us that it's okay to laugh at our own mistakes.
So, buckle up, buttercups, because we're about to embark on a wild ride through the absurdity of existence. Together, we'll laugh, we'll cry, and we'll probably question our life choices more than once. But hey, isn't that what makes life interesting? So grab a snack, kick back, and let's figure out why we're all here, one hilariously existential crisis at a time.
““Against the assault of laughter, nothing can stand.””
I thought I had it all. A life, a family, some friends, a career and a few hobbies. Isn’t that what we all want? Just a normal life. My mind wanders to that term… a normal life. What does normal even mean? But I digress. I was in pretty good health. I have always said, “ I am the healthiest fat person I know!” The only thing that ailed me other than being overweight that is, was that all I wanted to do was nap. ALL. THE. TIME. Can I cash in on all those naps I refused to take a as a child? I was doing my best to accomplish this task. My family still lives in Texas and I married me a Georgia boy. So I frequent back ‘home’ as much as I can. I am blessed to be able to work from anywhere – oh the luxuries of a post-Covid world. I love to drive instead of flying. I like to see my surroundings and take it all. Reminiscent of my childhood. We would get in the car on the weekends and just go…no plans, no reservations, no destination. Anyway, I decided to take a detour to see some distant family members before I made my way to Texas and I wanted to be at my Mom’s by 4th of July. I knew my nephew and his young family would be visiting my brother. He has 3 adorable little girls and I have 2 grown sons and both my long haired Chihuahuas are boys. So anytime I can enjoy estrogen over testosterone, sign me up.
It all started out like any normal fourth of July, eating, enjoying each other’s company and in the evening, a few fireworks. Now, back home in Georgia, my family & I give the professionals a run for their money when it comes to these displays and we are not tight with our wallets either. So what we did at my brother’s house failed in comparison. After all, it was for the girls’ sake anyways. Sparklers, a few noise makers and some tiny bottle rockets. You could hear everyone in the distance doing the same. We gather everything up and place all the used fireworks in a box on the back of my brother’s UTV & go inside. All the while my mother is begging us to hose everything down to be safe. None of us listened to her.
Inside, my nephew’s wife, “F” put the girls to bed while we watched home movies and snacked. We laughed, we cried and laughed some more. Then “F” came into the living room and asked what that light was outside. Everything was in slow motion yet everything was moving at the speed of light. My brother runs to the garage (located behind the house and detached) and screams “Call 911!” For some reason, while dialing 911, someone had the fortitude to know we needed to move all the vehicles to make room for the firetrucks, when they arrived. I hop in mine and the 911 dispatcher answers. At the same time, I am seeing this massive blaze engulf the tree next to the garage. I know I was yelling but also trying to remain calm. I’ve heard other 911 recordings and knew losing my cool was not going to be helpful and I needed to make sure she understood me – with my Georgia accent and all. She asks for the address and God only knows how I remembered it, but I did. She then asks what roads lead up to it and I explained and apologized at the same time, that I am from Georgia and know nothing about the names of roads anywhere & I only know this address. I parked my 4runner across the cul-de-sac into a vacant field. There were only 3 houses at the end of the cul-de-sac and there was plenty of space between the houses. She is asking me if I know what started it and I immediately know it had to be the fireworks and I tell her so. “I think it was the fireworks.” “It has to be the fireworks!”
As I am running back to the house, I can still hear my brother’s screams or cries of desperation. He was in the backyard with the dang water hose fighting this monster, trying his best to make sure it did not engulf the house. “F” went and got the girls out of the bedroom and my Mom & Sister-in-law, “C” were gathering the dogs. My brother raises and shows Weimaraners & does field trials with them - a lucrative hobby. He kept one puppy from his latest litter. Where is the puppy? Did someone get the puppy? I know I passed people going back into the house but I am not sure who specifically - everything is a blur. I can hear the 911 operator asking if everyone is out of the house. I don’t know. I yell out, “Is everyone out?” “Yes” I hear. I see people going back inside too though. They are getting the girls loaded into a vehicle while others were loading dogs into another. Those screams sound so desperate coming from the backyard. I see “C” and ask if everyone is out again. They are. I yell, “Where is the puppy?” He’s in the vehicle, she says. “Who are we missing?” One of the adult dogs! I run back into the house past the dog kennels and into the living room yelling his name. No answer. I go back outside the same way I went in, yelling his name. No answer. I beg the operator to have the firetrucks get here fast. She assures me they are on their way. I cannot find the missing dog. I go back in, and something grabs my attention in the corner of my eye. A closed kennel. There he is, just as calm and quiet as can be, patiently waiting for someone to get him. I begin sobbing as I call his name and apologize to him. I get him to the vehicle and again ask the 911 operator where fire fighters are. I can still hear the desperation from the backyard.
A small firetruck shows up and begins fighting the fire on the opposite side of the garage from my brother. I look for the first time at length at the yellow, orange and red blaze emitting in the backyard and feel the intense heat on my face and cannot fathom how in the world we are going to survive this. Where will everyone stay? My Mom’s house is too small. What will my brother & his wife do if they lose everything? Why oh why didn’t we listen to Mom? Can’t I just go back and change it all? Why can’t I rewind this and go back and douse the fireworks they picked up like she suggested. More firetrucks arrive. Tons of police arrive. The sirens are deafening but I still hear the fire over them. The red & blue lights are blinding but not enough to cover the light emitting from the fire. Smoke is everywhere. Neighbors are moving their vehicles and moving to safety themselves. On lookers arrive. My brother is still in the backyard with the water hose, yelling “Save the house! Save the house!” The 911 Operator tells me we can disconnect since everyone is there. I hang up. I cry. I notice I am shaking. Why am I shaking so bad? My arms are shaking. My legs are shaking and feel weak. Then there is gurgle in my belly. I must find a restroom NOW. I beg the neighbor to let me use their bathroom. They do. I cannot sit still, and my legs were shaking so bad I thought they were going to shake me off the commode. I wash my hands. Throw water on my face. I look in the mirror at myself in disbelief we are experiencing this situation. I take long deep breaths. I try to rewind the events and start it over again to prevent this from happening. What can I do to prevent this from happening? I need to back and fix this. Why won’t that work? I thank the neighbor and go back outside and the blaze seems to be getting higher and it has made it to the house. I hear so many things exploding. What are those sounds? What was in the garage? Gas. A vehicle. An air tank. My brother was a man’s man and was rebuilding a muscle car with my nephew. The UTV was in there. The box of used fireworks on the back inside a box.
It hits me that I need to call my husband to make sure he knows I am okay. No answer. I call my oldest son. No answer. I call my youngest son. He answers. We talk. He asks me to take a picture. Can I do that? Isn’t this a sacred moment that should not be recorded by onlookers who do nothing? I always said that if something happened, I would never be one of those people who did nothing and just videoed with my cell phone. I would take action and help those in need. I comply with my son’s request. Looking back, I’m glad I did. I only got one picture. That was enough. It was after the firefighters had been fighting it for an hour. I could still feel the heat after I took the photo. How do the firefighters go into this and save people? Man they have cojones! I notice my Mom & Sister-in-law standing nearby and I go to them. We embrace each other and “C” suggests that we pray. Why haven’t I thought of that? I should be thanking God we are all safe. He saved us all – humans and canines. The only thing being destroyed is stuff. Stuff we cannot take with us. Those things don’t really matter. Our precious lives are what matters the most. They pray. I feel shame for not thinking of praying. I listen but don’t pray. I feel guilty for not thinking of thanking God for our safety already. That should’ve been the first thing I did. I notice I’m still shaking. I tell myself, it’s the adrenaline. Then we decided the littles need to go to bed & get away from the situation and we don’t know if the house will be habitable yet. I volunteer to go with “F” and the littles to my Mom’s house (she lives a few miles away down a few country roads). The whole time “F” & I talk about what happened and how things changed in an instant but nothing too deep since littles are listening. I still cannot catch my breath and my heart is racing and beating so fast it feels like it is going to jump outside of my chest. The whole drive, which seems to be taking forever, I try to calm my breathing & heartbeat to no avail.
I get to Mom’s, make a pallet for the oldest little, ask if they need anything and the gurgle hits me again! I give “F” my phone since she left hers at the house and she desperately wants to call my nephew. She’s worried about him. I’ve got to be strong for their sake but first I must go potty. I can’t be strong with bubble gut. Why will the shaking not stop? It’s been almost 2 hours since this all occurred and everyone else is fine. I need to calm down. I go back to my room where they are all lying down and the littles are talking to their daddy. They do not grasp the seriousness of the situation but know the fireworks caused the fire. I tell them good night and do my best to try to calm down in the living room. I walk outside and pet my Mom’s dogs. Did they get fed? I will feed them again. What will it hurt? I pet and love on them more and still cannot slow my breathing or heartbeat. I was supposed to get in my Mom’s truck and drive back to my brother’s but know I cannot do that with how I am. It’s not safe with me like this. I convince my Mom to drive my 4runner home instead. She gets home and I tell her I cannot calm down. She is a retired RN and takes my pulse. She says it’s too high for her to count. She is about to give me something to take…
I wake up. Where am I? What’s going on? I remember seeing some faces but they were blurry and I heard some strange voices but not sure who or what it was. I realize I am in a hospital bed. My Mom is by my side and starts talking to me. I try to respond and cannot. A young nurse walks in and is immediately elated that I am awake. She is smiling from ear to ear telling me how glad she is to finally see me awake. I try to talk and cannot. Many nurses and doctors come in. I have so many things hooked up to me. Why? What happened?
I wake up again… it was another seizure. There are things hooked up to my head to measure the seizure. I am so tired, I can barely keep my eyes open. Doctors asking me questions. I cannot talk. They get me a paper and pen to write down my answers. They are trying to figure out what medicines I am taking. I have not been taking my seizure medication because I feel like it’s useless anyway. Maybe Mom will reprimand me once I am in the clear and I will have to hear her nagging me about how important it is to take my meds and on time. More specialists come in and ask more questions. Now I have a small dry erase board to communicate with. Why is everyone making such a big deal over this? It was just a seizure. I just want to go home. I’m fine. It was just a seizure. But why can I not remember anything? Doctors and Mom inform me that I have had multiple seizures back to back. I normally can recall everything that happens around me during my seizure but this time it was different. Why can’t I talk? It’s all in my head they say. However, the seizures are not neurological, but anxiety induced by trauma. “Well, no shit!” I think to myself. The fire was a trauma for everyone. Why was I the one to react this way? Why did it cause me to have so many seizures? Why was I unconscious? My brother was practically fighting off hell with a literal water hose for crying out loud? He should be impacted by this trauma but he is not. A few hours later, my voice comes back and I can speak. And I learn I have been in the hospital and 2 days have passed! What the heck? It only felt like a few hours.
Thus begins my journey of dealing with trauma, anxiety induced seizures (I’ve had seizures for at least 10-15 years with no diagnosis and now they say it’s anxiety) and I am supposedly suppressing things from my past and internalizing them instead of dealing with them. I should see a therapist to untangle it all, they say. I get released from the hospital and upon going back to my brother’s house for the first time since the fire, I have a flood of emotions rush in and I’m sucked right back in to the moment of the fire - emotions and all. I cry for a short time. The closest room near the garage was the dog room. The outside of it is melted and all the glass had busted out into the yard. The grass is now replaced with black char. The garage and all its contents are gone – nothing but ash. I see a frame of what was once the UTV and the muscle car. I spend the next few days assisting what little I can going through the ash. The fire inspector said the fire started on the outside of the garage and it was probably a firework. No telling if it was ours or someone else’s. I spend the rest of my time in Texas like I had planned with no other incidents. Normal as normal can be. We are blessed.
A few weeks later, back in Georgia, I started having PTSD and events where my heart races for no reason and while I am at rest. Seeing many specialists only to discover there is nothing wrong with my heart. Praise God! It’s anxiety. I am now seeing a therapist and I told her everything and why I was there to see her. I am eating better, slowly losing weight, taking better care of myself. I’m reading more. Getting outside more. Therapist tells me, all these things are self-love & she thinks doing these things for myself are the best ‘medicine’ for me. Self-Love? That’s a foreign concept to me. Did I not love myself before? What is self-love? I love God first and foremost and I love my husband beyond measure and my boys unconditionally. But do I love myself? That is the million-dollar question.
If my ramblings and mishaps can bring a smile to someone's face or offer a nugget of wisdom, then I'll consider it a win. And if along the way my circle of friends dwindles, well, then we'll chalk it up to me being the designated crazy person! But hey, who needs a big circle when you've got quality over quantity, right? So buckle up, folks, because this journey is bound to be a rollercoaster of laughter, tears, and hopefully not too many embarrassing moments... but no promises!