Why we need to have the courage to talk about hard things.

There are moments in our life that are painful. Moments that change everything we thought we knew. Moments that change us forever. On this day 18 years ago I shifted from being a kid in my first job in NYC, to becoming an adult. 

When we have the courage to talk about hard things, we get stronger.

Earlier today I was braiding my 9 year old daughters hair and she said, "mommy it’s the anniversary of the twin towers". I said, yes it is. Then I took a deep breath and decided to say, "do you know that mommy was in NYC that day?" 

I never told her before, because I knew it was going to be a hard conversation. 

Hard for me. 

Her eyes got big and she said, you were there?

Why didn’t you tell me that before?  

I said “I didn’t want you to be afraid, but you’re older now and I want you to know that bad things do happen and when they do, we get through them and it makes us stronger on the inside”. 

We grow through what we go through.

As I’m saying it, my mind flashed back to 2001. My mom calling me at work and telling me that planes had just hit the WTC. I remember a flood of thoughts rapidly running through my mind and asking her, “what do you think I should do? Should I stay or should I go?”

I had the same feelings everyone in NYC and around the world had that day, not knowing what was happening around us and fear of what would happen next. I wanted someone to tell me what to do, tell me it was going to be ok and that I was going to be safe. I didn’t have that.

I had to be an adult and hold myself together. 

I decided to leave my office. Time slowed down and I felt like I was walking in slow motion. The streets of the city were silent. I don’t think I took a breathe the entire time. I wouldn’t cry, I couldn’t. I had to hold it together.

I found myself on what I think was one of the last trains out of Grand Central that morning. I stood there in the aisle of a packed train on the lower level. People were in shock and many were covered in dust & blood. I kept my head down praying for the train to move fast and get out of the city. The ride was a blur. When I finally got off, I remember breaking down and sobbing uncontrollably.

I felt so alone. No phones. No family. Just fear of what would happen next.

I didn’t tell my daughter all the details of that day, only that I was there and that I was afraid. I’m sure she will have more questions over time and I will share more details when I feel that she is ready.

For today, I chose to have a brief, but hard conversation with her.

Today I chose to talk about it. To remember.

By remembering, I was able to reflect on the gratitude I have for every hero who showed up that day. The stories of loss, of circumstance of raw heroism that I have heard over the years are too many to count.

I’m sharing my story so that you may be encouraged to share yours.

To talk about it around the dinner table or reach out to the person you were with that day. You share a bond that will never be forgotten. 

When I think of 9/11, yes I think about all the lives lost; but I also think about the spirit of ordinary people pulling together to support each other.

There is a bond that we created because we had no option, but this bond encourages us to think less and feel more.

We choose to remember, so we can never forget.

#neverforget #sacrifice #courage #usa #firstresponders