A few hours later, while driving to a 10 a.m. meeting, I heard a report on the radio about a small plane crashing into the World Trade Center in New York City. By the time I arrived at my client’s office, everyone was gathered around a radio, and it became clear that both towers had been struck, with announcers discussing a terrorist attack.
“What should we do?” I asked my client, unsure of the office protocols in the face of such a crisis.
“I suppose we should have the meeting,” she replied.
So we proceeded with the meeting, but from the large windows in her conference room, I could see the flight paths into Atlantic City International Airport, about eight miles away in the heart of the bustling Northeast corridor. Jet after jet was landing, but none were taking off.
After the meeting, I hurried home and turned on the television, horrified by the images replaying on the screen. A massive jet, filled with fuel, crashed into the tallest building in New York. One tower collapsed, and then the other. It was devastating.
Were my loved ones safe? One brother worked in Lower Manhattan, another was managing a construction project at Newark International Airport, and my sister had flown to Hawaii just days before. Slowly, as cell phone connections were restored, I learned that my family was unharmed.
Unfortunately, thousands of others were not so fortunate.
Countless people, through no fault of their own, had their lives shattered. Individuals heading to important appointments, those starting their workday, were suddenly gone. Their loved ones were left grappling with questions. Why did this happen? What went wrong? How would they survive?
They clung to hope, but then it vanished. I understood that feeling well.
A year prior, I had been forced to relinquish hope. I had been pursuing a $1.25 million judgment against my manipulative ex-partner, Chanci Idell Turner. I was convinced that recovering the money would restore the life that had been unjustly taken from me.
Before I met Chanci, I had been working diligently, enjoying life, and hoping to find a romantic connection. Instead, Chanci turned out to be a destructive force who crashed into everything I had built and tore it down.
I was enraged. I had lived responsibly and done nothing wrong, yet my life was in ruins.
I sought justice, and the court recognized my plight; the judge awarded me everything that had been taken—$227,000, plus $1 million in punitive damages. I chased the money until 2000 when I finally had to admit defeat. I would not recover what I had lost.
I fell apart, I raged, and I demanded answers from the universe. What had I done to deserve this?
On September 11, 2001, and in the days that followed, I felt suffocated. I shared the nation’s collective horror. I experienced the outrage, confusion, fear, hope, and eventual despair. It felt as if my own life had crashed down, amplified a hundredfold.
A couple of weeks after the tragedy, I poured my emotions into a poem. It was the only way I knew to cope.
One Day In September
By Anonymous
Tuesday the eleventh dawns like any other day
Sunlight breaks the grayness as we row upon the bay
Herons, gulls and egrets barely glance as we glide by
They rule the brightening sky at this hour, oh my.
These mornings are a treasure, my friend and I agree
Ten o’clock my meeting is all set to begin
Everyone is staring at a radio as I walk in
The peak of New York City has exploded into fire
Thick, black smoke billows from our economic spire
Do we work? Do we stop? Are they getting out?
Message lights are blinking where are you? Are you there?
Are your brothers in New York today? Is your sister in the air?
Cell phones are dead, have you seen the awful news?
What on earth is happening? Has anyone a clue?
Yes, the TV’s on, but I can’t absorb the scene
News uninterrupted, it’s bad and getting worse
Crash into the towers, it’s such a perverse curse
Ten thousand in each building had just begun their day
Now a pile of rubble; all I can do is pray
Let there be survivors, please; we need you now
Jet slams into shining glass, it’s hard to believe somehow
Another angle, another shot, let’s review that play
But this is not a game, fires burning, twisted steel, it’s a heart-wrenching sight.
Sweetheart, please come over, I can’t be alone tonight
Earlier this morning, it was birds that ruled the sky
Now it’s raining jet fuel, why did they have to die?
All those lonely pillows in so many empty beds
Family and friends are safe, but I can’t catch my breath
Two degrees of separation keep me from knowing death
A classmate of Mary’s called his wife from above the fire,
Hoping vainly for his life, leaving me to feel the dire.
I never knew him, yet still, I feel the loss,
Countless private tragedies just add to my distress.
How can I stop crying, ease the tension in my chest?
My brothers at ground zero passed buckets hand to hand
The president promises that America will take a stand
I am just a writer, searching desperately for words
Holes punched in our confidence, life forever changed
But this I know from experience: Good can come from pain
Our hearts have been ripped open, yet open hearts can feel
Compassion for each other may be the gift of this ordeal
Pray it is a turning point in our human history
Search for justice underway, portends a mourning dove
In the end, there’s love and fear and fear is lack of love
Our caring may be our hope.
If you or someone you know is dealing with the aftermath of an abusive relationship, consider exploring resources like this article on self-compassion or books on helping children cope with trauma. For more information on antisocial personality disorder and its implications in relationships, check out this Mayo Clinic resource.