Tuesday April 23
I never thought I would get so much joy out of a simple, dreaded task like laundry.
Tonight, I did laundry and picked up my room for the first time since the bombings at the Boston Marathon. During the last week I had made my room a bigger mess than I ever could have imagined. At one point, I had taken all of the shirts out of a drawer and dumped them on my bed trying to find a specific item. When I got home that night, I took the pile of shirts and pushed them on the floor. They were there all week, mixing with my dirty clothes, shoes, bags, etc. from the long, hectic week.
This morning I was so fed up with the various piles I had “organized” on my floor that I kicked them like a toddler in a temper tantrum around my room. Thankfully, finally, tonight I picked up. I reorganized. I cleaned my clothes (I was to the point where I looked like a sailor going to work today because I had nothing left to wear). I got my life back to what it used to be.
I had time again. Time for myself. Time to sit down and breathe. Time to myself that wasn’t consumed with the thoughts and horrors of the last week. I thought about other things…about stupid things. About how how much I hate doing laundry — never is everything clean at one time! I had time to call my grandparents back.
Life is finally returning to normal. I know it’s a good thing, but it still seems weird. On Sunday I treated myself to the iPhone (due to the stressful week) and went to the memorial on Boylston Street. It was packed, so I walked the block or so to the Public Gardens and took a seat on a bench. Although I had the day off, I felt like I needed to be near the memorial. I looked over and my coworker was sitting on the next bench over. She felt the same way.
I was affected by the bombings differently than I expected I would be. I’ve always been a sensitive person, but I never thought eight days later I would still break out into tears for no reason. I don’t cry as often — I can actually look at police officers and say “thank you” without bawling. I just get slightly choked up. I’m still exhausted — I fell asleep during a root canal on Monday. No, I’m not exaggerating. I actually fell asleep during a root canal.
I still think about what happened a lot, but as more information comes out about the suspects, as victims slowly begin the healing process and get released from the hospital, and as Boylston Street reopens, I heal too. I’m starting to become whole again, too.
I’m sure the first time I walk down Boylston Street (likely this weekend) I’ll get choked up. I’ll stop and take in what happened. I’m sure a few months from now I’ll randomly think about what happened and cry. But I think that’s normal. And normal is what I need right now.
A few random things: Thank you to the Frank family for sending Potbelly sandwiches and cookies to the station today for lunch. Thank you to all my other amazing friends for the gift cards, notes, etc. It means the world to me. Thank you. Boston’s The One Fund raised over $20 million in one week for the victims of the Boston Marathon bombings. That’s amazing. I’m so proud to live in this city. Lastly, it has been very difficult to consider the suspects of the bombings suspects becauase I’m very upset with them and I feel as if the video evidence is pretty good proof they were involved, but they are innocent until proven guilty. I just wanted to say I’m mad at them and they are pretty guilty in my eyes and it’s been a struggle for me to reflect this at work, etc. Told you these were random thoughts. I just thought they needed to be said.