Facing Fear

Ever have one of those weeks where you experience every emotion possible?

“How the hell did I get into this situation, and what will it take to get through it?” That’s what I kept asking myself as I learned there was no way off of the most beautiful island I have ever seen. I was about to face my worst fear ever! Not just a storm, but the longest continuous span of a Category 5 hurricane in history. I was about to ride out Hurricane Irma for more than 12 hours, 15 miles from the eye of the storm with 185-mile-per-hour winds September 7, 2017. The islands are used to hurricanes, but nothing of this epic proportion.

This trip was supposed to be a relaxing way to work by the pool with a little rest and relaxation on Turks and Caicos… until we learned about the hurricane bearing down on us. After multiple unsuccessful phone calls, emails, and tweets to airlines, airports, the U.S. Embassy, and even the White House, we knew it was time to prepare for the worst and face the most horrific storm to ever hit these islands.

Preparation work for the worst began in earnest, but one question kept coming up: Do we fight the surge, or fight the wind? Emotions were high and the anticipation was killing me, but I needed to find my inner strength and face a fear I’ve had since I was four years old, growing up in “Tornado Alley” in Iowa. The island residents seemed to stay calm while shopping in the local hardware and grocery store. We stockpiled water, ice, gas, and non-perishable foods. (I can only imagine that getting ice afterwards was like trying to get cigarettes in prison.)

The villa, located less than two blocks from the beautiful beach, was cleared of debris, and then it was time to answer the question, since Irma was arriving in less than 24 hours. Storm surge, or wind?

I had to make a decision that would remain with me for the rest of my life. There would be no going back or changing my mind. I thought of my oldest sister and how I used to call her during a storm to ask her to “talk me down.” But I didn’t want to panic; I needed to stay calm and choose where I was going to “ride the tide” of the hurricane.

Ultimately, I chose the wind. I was invited to stay with some locals a little higher up and a little farther from the water. Our living situation seemed to get smaller and smaller as the winds blew harder and harder; the roof blew off into splinters, and who knows where the pieces ended up. Pool floats became our beds in the utility room off of the carport. Water was coming down the stairs and a barrier was made of blankets to keep it from reaching us as we held hands and I cuddled with my daughter’s blanket, which I travel with where ever I go.

I’m not sure when I finally fell asleep, but I was awakened by the noise from the boards being ripped off the door where they had been nailed across the night before. With the winds still fiercely blowing, we walked out to the eerie sounds of frogs rejoicing and boards creaking—noises that were disrupting one of the most beautiful sunrises I’d ever seen. Not sure why I couldn’t stop crying, I was thankful, relieved, and saddened about the devastation. I survived, but what about the others who fought for survival? How quickly life changes.

I will never be the same. I am humbled and honored, and I now live with a purpose in my heart, not my dreams.