Sylvia's Journal

Familiar themes play like old tapes in my head. Jane Kenyon’s poem Otherwise popped up, I got out of bed/on two strong legs/It might have been /otherwise. Images keep coming back, like in July, and my stomach contracts involuntarily when I relive the swaying of the plane, the loud roar. I have been there before and my body remembers.

I had to talk with people badly but I was alone so I fired off random emails to just be in touch; once more an intuitive response to activate my support network. A few responded right away, these virtual hugs did the job. Somehow, being shaken up like that is easier to handle when others shake with you.

I could not sleep as I had planned and hoped; instead I kept re-reading my description of those few minutes of terror. I am not sure if the intent or effect was to take the emotional edge off it or to remind me that it really happened and I survived again. It felt a bit obsessive but I could not help myself. I used the fancy espresso machine in my room, over and over again; first coffee, then tea, and finally I had the eight dollar Foster beer. I took a very long hot bath and then watched a Dutch TV station util it was time to go.

Dubai airport is the opposite of Kabul airport. At Kabul airport there is a little shop that sells bags of nuts and dried fruits, rolls of biscuits, Arabic sweets and coffee and tea from thin paper cups. In Dubai you can buy anything your heart desires, from formula one cars to barbie clothes, as long as you have the money. It is a shopping frenzy that must be an eyesore to those inhabitants from the region who think the west is wicked. The shoppers are the passengers on some twenty long haul carriers that take off within hours of each other to all parts of the world. There were thousands of people, mountains of baggage and long lines everywhere. My Platinum Elite frequent flyer card is a godsend. It offers some respite from the lines and the hustle and bustle.

The flight was full and I could not get the upgrade I so badly wanted. I slept fitfully and watched a sweet Chinese movie that made me forget about bad things. In Amsterdam I called Axel to hear his voice and let him know I am nearly home.

As I am bracing for the last part of the trip my body is sending out signals that it needs some TLC. Axel has set up and appointment for me for massage later today and then I think I will return to Ruth next week for some remedial EMDR work, to bring everything back on an even keel.

I flew back with two MSH colleagues, Miho, who used to live in Kabul, and Yen, coming in from Addis and Nairobi also on their way home.