Little Earthquakes

A year ago today, my life fell apart. I watched helpless, invisible even, while nearly everything that mattered to me evaporated.

I was stunned. And, yet, somehow not. I imagine it’s how people who live in earthquake zones feel – they know they live near a fault line, but each year that passes without incident lulls them into a false sense of security. They settle in, get comfortable, buy minivans, plan for the future. The fault line taunts them with its dormancy, preys on their vulnerability. Over time, they learn to ignore it.

And then one day…

My own little earthquake was like that: shocking in the moment, pitifully predictable in hindsight. The fallout of this unnatural disaster has been similarly devastating. Blindingly fast and excruciatingly slow. But also relieving. It’s liberating to know you can survive the thing you most fear. At least, that’s what I tell myself.

Still suffering aftershocks, I don’t know if it’ll ever seem like a good idea to share the gory details of last spring (or the years that led up to it, for that matter) with the tens of strangers who stumble upon this site between Googling cat videos and Facebook-stalking ex-boyfriends.

I can share other things, though. If not the deeply personal, at least the superficially personal. The mundane – the books I’m reading, the meals I’m cooking, the movies I’m watching. And the less so – the places I’m exploring, the people I’m meeting and all the little things that remind me that I am exceedingly blessed.

For those lucky enough to survive, there is life after the earthquake.

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