Twelve

Today I’m just feeling angry. About everything we’ve lost, and everything we’ve done that hasn’t made anything any better. 

I’m mad that Colleen Supinski never got to be a mother. She’d have been an excellent mother, if only because she was always ready for fun.

I’m just angry. 

Say what you need to say here. Tell your story, talk about someone you lost, talk about what you lost. Safe space. No Misery Poker. 

16 thoughts on “Twelve”

  1. This morning was crappy. I thought it was because I couldn’t find DS’ hoody. And he had a small accident, so we had to change his clothes, when we were already late leaving. And I didn’t have time to make a coffee. But then on the way home after dropping him off, I realised that it was 9/11 today. I think this was in my subconscious and was the real reason for my anger.

    Asinine law proposals and politics about freedom of religion and religious symbols going on here right now are infuriating and frustrating. In times like this it feels like we are moving backwards in a big, big way, and I just don’t understand.

    Twelve years ago I had just returned home from a business trip the day before. Every year I think how lucky I am that I was not travelling to/from a different city, just one day later, on a different flight.

    Hugs to you Magda, and everyone else today.

  2. I’m doing okay, but my husband and I had a rare argument last night. My eldest asked about who the Taliban and Al Queda were. My husband started explaining how they were extremists and I started to explain that extremists are like the ultra orthodox Jews (my husband and my children are Jewish). I was not equating the two, but he took it as that. I am atheist and I see all extremists as horrible.

    With all of the coverage, I worry that there is still a huge bigotry towards Muslims. I worry that people still spread the myth that Islam allows for the destruction of other cultures.

    He was furious at the concept of Islamic extremists and Judaic extremists being lumped together.
    This was difficult. I think the constant news on 9/11, the horrors of religious extremism and a few others things are pushing him to be so angry. Yes, his brother was at the Millenium Hotel that morning. Yes, we lost track of him for a while. He stayed to cover the story until the people started jumping. Then he left. Thankfully. The towers fell minutes later.

    No Misery Poker. All feelings are valid today.

    Sorry- I needed to get this out.

  3. It’s my birthday. I hate that it feels like we aren’t supposed to celebrate anything today, despite how horribly awful the events 12 years ago were.

    1. Happy birthday!

      People won’t schedule stuff on this day now, of course, but I often wonder about people who have birthdays and other pre-2001 events to celebrate on this day. My cousin (also a close friend) has her wedding anniversary on this date. I hate how it sucks for her to have her happy day conflated with this awful thing. I hate this for you, too. I think you should go ahead and celebrate. The world needs more of that.

    2. Happy Birthday! I always say that we should go out of our collective way to celebrate births, weddings, every day accomplishments on days like this to take them back. Otherwise (and sorry to be trite) it’s another way the terrorists win. So many good things have happened on 9/11 – it’s nice to be able to focus on them, even if we pause to remember the tragedy in whatever way we chose. Hope you can find a way to celebrate and be celebrated. If not today, then the rest of the week…oh hell, just take the month. You deserve it.

  4. Although I wasn’t there and I didn’t lose anyone – I’m still affected by the events from 12 years ago any time I fly or when someone asks me what my last name is. I have the unfortunate coincidence of having a similar name to one of those responsible for the hijacking. It’s from my Grandpa who made it up when he came over from Lebanon in the early 1900’s and died in the 60’s. So, we have no connection at all, but somehow it’s enough to make people question where I’m from and give me the direct line to getting searched more thoroughly than anyone else (in turn giving me extreme anxiety). I don’t fly anymore and that’s part of the reason.I also wanted to change my name, because it was always so stressful explaining to people – "Haha, no, I’m not related to that guy." It just feels weird to have a part of me (like my last name) be held with so much distrust, fear, and presumed negativity when I don’t look (too) Middle Eastern, I never met my Grandfather, I’m not Muslim, and I have never been overseas. Other people have been treated way worse, because of how they look, what they believe, and where they live – when they have nothing to do with it. It’s annoying because it still happens to me, but it’s only a minor inconvenience compared to how drastically other people’s lives have changed and I feel bad for even mentioning it.

  5. A- No misery poker. That must suck that you feel you are connected without being connected to this horrible event. Gah. To lose your identity is still a loss.

  6. Feeling almost unbearably sad today. Can’t stop listening to music that has a heaviness to it. One of the hardest parts of this day for me is encapsulated in two words: Never forget. Having lived through this day as a New Yorker, and having lived through the weeks that followed with, among other things, images of desperate people standing behind local news reporters to hold pictures of missing loved ones for the camera, I would be hard pressed to choose to remember if given the option of forgetting. I searched the faces of fellow commuters in NyC this morning wondering how they all seemed to be holding it together so much better than I am. Can’t stop thinking. Can’t stop remembering.

  7. Ever since becoming a mom 9 months ago, I’ve started feeling so much more sadness about each sad event that I see or hear about. Every person on the news was once a child, and every child once had a mother… I’m tearing up at work just typing this.

  8. The previous commenter said almost exactly what I am thinking. I can’t visit Ground Zero, can’t listen to the memorial without sobbing. I didn’t even lose anyone, but I did live through it and it marked me. It was all the people who lost their lives, yes. That was tragic in itself. But what kills me over and over are all the people who were searching for loved ones, posting flyers, lighting candles at shrines, going on tv to ask if anyone had seen their loved one. Knowing that those people were never going to be found and these searchers would never know exactly what happened to them. This is what haunts me about those days and weeks.

  9. I’m having a really hard, sad, feeling beaten kind of day. My son’s school had a lovely moment of silence at morning assembly which I appreciated. My life is really wearing me down right now, and I just want to be past the uncertainty and in a place where I can be proactive and have some control over my destiny. Thinking back to 2001 a lot as well.

  10. I am also angry today. Twelve years and nothing seems different. Sure, the scenery at Ground Zero changes, but the memorial? Still the same. Is this where we are going to be at 20 years? 30? Still reading names for four hours on TV in a construction site? And I am angry at the people at the memorial. You want to come to a public place and hold giant signs with your dead relative’s face on them, sobbing your eyes out? Fine, but how about you show a little respect for their memories, too? How about you stop wearing their ratty firefighter tshirts and comb your hair? If you’re going to Ground Zero on this day, you’ve got to know you’re likely to be on TV, so show some respect for them, and for yourself.

    I am also angry at the people who spend all day today saying, "Never forget." Really? I was there, in downtown Manhattan, first in my office, watching a live stream of the second plane hit, then running down 28 flights of stairs, then walking up the FDR Drive with my coworker, trying to figure out where her kids were. She will never forget and I will never forget. It’s seared into my memory, much like the smell of burning flesh was seared into my skin & hair for days afterward.

    And if we do somehow manage to not remember for a minute, that’s OK, because it means maybe we’re moving on, a little bit.

    Thanks you so much, Magda.

  11. No thanks, I really don’t want to remember. I was there and have no interest in mourning every year. I feel sorry for those who have birthdays or anniversaries today–it must kind of suck to feel like you aren’t allowed to celebrate. Life goes on, right?

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