Five years ago today we all know what happen. I won’t go over it again. I wish the media wouldn’t either, but I can’t stop that. But this year, on this anniversary, I will make some changes to me.

Dear Katrina,

This year I will no longer consider myself a failure if I cry when talking about you. If I cry for the rest of my life whenever you come up, that’s okay. You were traumatic. I accept that.

This year I will remove the chip from my shoulder. I will no longer rage against others who want to talk about you. I will accept people are naturally curious. I will quit taking my rage for YOU out on others. No, they were not here, they do not know, but they can ask questions. It’s okay. I will even attempt to put up with the analysis and conflicting opinions. Being caught up in the hierarchy of suffering is pointless. I will allow everyone the room to process the experience in their own way.

This year and for ever more I will focus on the good. I will remember the way everyone came together to help. That even though things went wrong, everyone truly pitched in and gave everything. And then some. I will no longer participate in the ‘they didn’t do enough’ and ‘they went about it all wrong’ games. I was here, in the middle of it and I am telling you that everyone was throwing everything they had at you, Katrina. If anyone felll short, at least they were trying.

This year I will formally thank Dr. H A P Myers for coming all the way down from Idaho and supporting my practice as we tried to help the shelter that my church became. I was all alone with my office being hit so hard and on an island of trauma. I was scared and hurting, but Dr. Myers took my hand and provided normalcy and direction. He pointed out all that was still functioning and by rolling up his sleeves, showed me that I could do it too. I will never forget sitting in the nursery room with him reviewing files. He looked at the cherubs playing beside us and said, “You know, it’s so important to watch healthy kids to remember what that looks like.” Then we were quiet and just played with the kids, forever reminding me that my kids were safe and happy and to look for and find the joy in life again.

I will acknowledge that you are a part of my history, but do not have to shape my future. Today I take my power back from you. You were nothing but a weather event, traumatic, but not alive. So today, I stop writing letters to you.
Today I say good bye to you and keep moving forward.

Erika