(no subject)
Normally, I don't see this side of 10 am, but this morning I had to be up so that I can get files and paper for my next project from a coworker. And really, in the long run, that worked out just fine for me. I don't think I have never been so glad to hear an alarm clock in my life.
So, I still need to get up and meet my coworker in the morning, so I still have my alarms set. Only I'm in Iraq, and I have a four year old son. I'm in a two story house, and to start out, I'm down stairs in the front of the house. I'm reading some US gossip rag and getting ready to go to bed when I start hearing this noise. It's sort of like the sound of fireworks, only not quite. I realize that the house - or the neighbourhood - is under fire from some sort of rocket launcher type weapons.
I head up to my bedroom upstairs in the back corner of the house. This is where the shelling is worst. Despite the black-out curtains on the window, I can see the red flashes from the rockets when they're fired. I can hear as the roofing tiles are hit and shatter, skittering down and to the ground. At one point, one hits lower, into the corner of the house, creating a small hole in my bedroom, through which I can see the scarlet sky.
So I lay there in bed, cowering under the blankets, trying to shield my eyes from the flashes, and trying to convince myself that they really are just fireworks, and harmless; trying to convince myself that I'm not going to die. I desperately want to go down to the cellar where it's safe and where my kid is, but the alarm clock is in the bedroom and I have to be up in the morning, so I had to stay where I was.
Eventually, the morning came and I met with the coworker. Then, the soldiers that I was staying with for protection took me off to this neighbourhood park. It was where the insurgents had been shelling our house from, and they were still there. I was taken with for my safety, rather than leave me alone. I had to watch as about 15 young men were taken out with machine guns.
From there, it was off to some event, where the general I was with casually told me that there was a very good chance that the insurgents would try to kidnap my son, that there wasn't much that could be done to protect him because anything the soldiers did would make him more of a target, and that he would in all likelihood be killed before I could leave the could leave the country.
So, yeah. There was no going back to sleep again after the alarm went off, and today will likely be a day filled with panic attacks and anxiety. I'm not going to be able to shake that one for a very, very long time.
So, I still need to get up and meet my coworker in the morning, so I still have my alarms set. Only I'm in Iraq, and I have a four year old son. I'm in a two story house, and to start out, I'm down stairs in the front of the house. I'm reading some US gossip rag and getting ready to go to bed when I start hearing this noise. It's sort of like the sound of fireworks, only not quite. I realize that the house - or the neighbourhood - is under fire from some sort of rocket launcher type weapons.
I head up to my bedroom upstairs in the back corner of the house. This is where the shelling is worst. Despite the black-out curtains on the window, I can see the red flashes from the rockets when they're fired. I can hear as the roofing tiles are hit and shatter, skittering down and to the ground. At one point, one hits lower, into the corner of the house, creating a small hole in my bedroom, through which I can see the scarlet sky.
So I lay there in bed, cowering under the blankets, trying to shield my eyes from the flashes, and trying to convince myself that they really are just fireworks, and harmless; trying to convince myself that I'm not going to die. I desperately want to go down to the cellar where it's safe and where my kid is, but the alarm clock is in the bedroom and I have to be up in the morning, so I had to stay where I was.
Eventually, the morning came and I met with the coworker. Then, the soldiers that I was staying with for protection took me off to this neighbourhood park. It was where the insurgents had been shelling our house from, and they were still there. I was taken with for my safety, rather than leave me alone. I had to watch as about 15 young men were taken out with machine guns.
From there, it was off to some event, where the general I was with casually told me that there was a very good chance that the insurgents would try to kidnap my son, that there wasn't much that could be done to protect him because anything the soldiers did would make him more of a target, and that he would in all likelihood be killed before I could leave the could leave the country.
So, yeah. There was no going back to sleep again after the alarm went off, and today will likely be a day filled with panic attacks and anxiety. I'm not going to be able to shake that one for a very, very long time.