Why I'm Not Incessantly Posting About the "Disaster in Japan"

I started this blog to record all the adventures of my 3 years in Japan. And as everyone knows, a very big experience recently occurred in Japan. I blogged about my experience during the earthquake here, but otherwise, I've stayed pretty quiet.

Sure I could have posted updates every day. I posted frequent updates on Facebook, trying to keep my family as in the loop as possible, but I'm fairly sure every update said something along the lines of "not to worry, we're just fine here". The situation is still ongoing, and I could easily write until my fingers bleed trying to clarify the true situation in this neck of the woods as compared to what the lovely US media is conveying back home.

But I didn't post frequent updates. I didn't try to differentiate what was actually happening vs. what the news was constructing. I didn't blog extensively about my reactions, emotions, thoughts, and concerns.

Why?

Partly, because things were relatively quiet in these parts. The earthquake hit, but with minor damage on base. The personnel were quick to lend support to Misawa and neighboring communities that did receive damage, and are still doing so. Everything from high school students baking cupcakes for morale to big, burly men hefting shovels of rubble. And while a large part of this island is still trying to recover, base has felt like a bubble of normalcy in the midst of everything. Once power was completely restored after a few weeks, business resumed as normal. It was and still is pretty easy to forget the devastation when things are so normal here. Family and friends were frequently requesting updates, but for us, there just wasn't much to update on. We awaited the return of limited power, did everything we could to conserve until things got back to normal, then got back in the swing of things. Jeff worked long hours supporting Operation Tomodachi, and I did everything I could to support him when he came home tired and stressed from long and challenging days. Besides the long hours, life was surprisingly uneventful.

A bigger reason I didn't blog repeatedly about the events is that I couldn't stomach it. I explained in my original post that when the earthquake happened, we were oblivious to its extensive damage. We truly thought power was out on base and things a few hops away in Misawa were perfectly fine. We had no idea how bad the country was hit until days later. It was such a shock to the system to have endured something so devastating and far-reaching and not even know it until it was over.

Then the news stories started. The first time they showed coverage of areas to the south of us, I cried. The first time they showed an individual searching for pictures of her family amidst the rubble of a once bustling community, I had to leave the room. As soon as they introduced the stories of people looking for family members, I turned off the TV and left it off the rest of the day. I've always had an empathetic personality and will easily cry at movies, TV shows, commercials, stories, anything. But this hit me harder. These weren't stories. They were real. And for the first time, there was no distance. This coverage was hours from my home. Places my husband and I had planned to visit, places our friends have been. It was too close. I closely followed the base updates, but couldn't stomach anything else. My way of dealing has always been to distance myself, get away and try to ignore what's going on. I couldn't grieve for every story the news continued to show, it would tear me apart. And I couldn't keep immersing myself in the "disaster".

So in my every day life, and especially in what I talked about in my little corner of blogland and the internet, I wanted to escape. I didn't want to be reminded of something I was living through unharmed while others were still waiting to hear news of their missing family members. I wanted to talk about unimportant things like decorating and movies.

Because, even in our relatively undamaged and returned to normal area of Japan, things were still shaky. Literally. We were having earthquakes and aftershocks constantly. Although they've lessened considerably, we still are. Every single one made me tense up in anticipation of another large rumble and its aftermath, every time my stomach would clench with fear. Now don't get me wrong, I was never one of those people freaking out and acting like an idiot. I didn't call my husband frantically asking "What do I do?!?!" like he would have an answer, I didn't run to a doorway in fear of the building falling, I didn't have a panic attack. I would sit quietly on the couch or in bed or wherever I happened to be when things started shaking. But it was taxing. Feeling the shakes over and over and never knowing whether another big earthquake would hit or not. Things that I always thought were stable like buildings made of concrete were suddenly in a constant state of motion. I never knew when we'd lose power, if Jeff would be at work and unable to get home. I also never knew how bad it really was on the ground level, since we're on the 8th floor in buildings made to sway with the earthquakes instead of resist them (meaning we get a lot more sway up here than on floor 1 or 2).

It wasn't a state of fear that needed an audience. It was just a quiet little whisper of "what if it happens again" every time the ground would shake. It would wear me down, especially if a big one woke us up in the middle of the night. I chose not to evacuate with the voluntary departure, because I felt there was no real danger for me here. I don't regret that decision and think I've done more good keeping my husband's spirits up here than escaping some of my own anxiety. But even so, the situation was wearing.

And while I was learning to deal with everything, I didn't want to talk about it over and over and over. We tried to keep the family updated with the latest news even though there was often none, but otherwise I didn't want to talk. Jeff and I would watch movies and TV shows to escape for a little while. I'd bury my head in a book during the day, although that's always been my favorite escape and I'm prone to do that regardless. I wanted to get through and move on, not analyze every single feeling.

It feels like the experience is coming to a close now. The earthquakes are coming less and less, and most of the time they're so small we barely notice anymore. The voluntary departure has been lifted and all the dependents that left should be returning sometime soon. Most of the personnel that came from other bases to assist in Operation Tomodachi have since left Misawa (or at least as far as a little ol' dependent knows of, I really don't know squat about what's going on with that Operation!) So now that it's coming to a close, I'm letting everything out, I guess. I didn't want to leave this experience without writing out my reaction, but I'm not the type of person that could do that while it was going on. I don't think I'll ever be able to handle really watching all the personal stories of disaster and heartache the news has plastered all over. Maybe what I'm imagining in my head is worse, but I don't need the real pictures there forever.

It helps that Misawa Air Base has done so much for the relief efforts, helping make a difference here. I didn't do as much as others, and perhaps not as much as I should have done. But I knew my limitations, so I did what I could handle in both physical and mental capabilities. And what I didn't do directly, I did indirectly by helping my husband. He's a big believer that families are the life force behind the military, keeping the men and women up and going. I still get flustered when someone tells me this, or thanks me for my service. After all, I'm not the one deploying or facing danger. But he reminded me of this again when we were going through this experience, so I'm going to try to listen to my husband (for once, he would say!) and believe that my support and care for him helped the operation.

I hope this long-winded post makes sense, somehow. I'm pouring out my thoughts without really thinking about structure, so it may seem random, repetitive, or incomplete. But I wanted to get everything out. An explanation about why, even though I'm living in Japan, I've been so quiet about the earthquake and relief efforts when others have been so vocal. What I did experience during the recovery, even if it's not as newsworthy in my eyes.



It's starting to become spring here. The cherry blossoms are blooming and the annual Cherry Blossom Festival is going on (we're planning to visit a festival this weekend if things go as planned) through the first week of May. The signs of new life have hit me harder than usual this year. Partly because we just moved from the desert where spring didn't exist, so the green and warm weather are wonderfully new. But also because of all the devastation. With spring comes the sense that things are moving on and getting better. Japan's recovering, healing. The resiliency of its people is one of the most extraordinary parts of this whole experience, and it'll be one part that stays with me forever. Even during the darkest times and during devastation unlike anything before, Mother nature continues to bring new life and Japan embraces that unending cycle through its annual festivals and celebrations.