Take a Breath

Texas, what we just did was live through TRAUMA.

Trauma of betrayal by our elected leaders. This was a preventable disaster, but prevention costs money, and Texas likes to live that uninsured driver lifestyle in the name of freedom. I hope change comes of this in the form of acting responsibly for everyone’s future.

Trauma of being scared for your own safety and survival. Our homes are not built for cold like that. They simply do not have the insulation to hold heat for extended periods of time. 30 minute of power twice a day will not heat a home when it is -5º outside.

Trauma of being scared for the safety and survival of your loved ones. My parents and grandparents did not have power through most of this. And with the roads frozen over, and no plowing, no snow tires, no way to get to anyone, I was stuck calling to check on them, only to find conditions worsening or staying the same.

Trauma of prolonged uncertainty and fear. Nobody knew how long this would last. Nobody knew if the rolling blackouts would ever roll.

Trauma of Guilt of having had power through this entire ordeal, hoping and wishing each and every minute that I could give it up and roll the blackout right onto us and off of someone near freezing in their home. Of turning off every light bulb and having our own house at 55º because maybe that’ll help save enough to get my mom’s house some power to get above 37º. Of knowing you have food and heat and water but no way to get it to anyone who needs it.

But we’re almost through to the other side of this.

Take a breath with me and let that sink in. If you’re reading this, you made it! You’re okay. Feel that in your bones.

The most difficult moment for me was learning that my 90 year old grandparents were without power. They live in a very old house, a two hour drive (on very clear roads) from me. I spoke to them the night that they lost power, and the house temperature was dropping fast. My grandmother told me that they were heading to bed, wearing layers, and bundled up under all the blankets they could find. I found out later they slept in their recliners in the living room. The next morning, they still did not have power. I found out later that day that a neighbor who owns a roofing company brought them a generator. When I spoke to my grandmother, she said that other neighbors gave them space heaters to plug in, and a power strip so they could finally charge their phones. The same neighbors also brought them food. I have no idea how the neighbors cooked the food, but my grandparents had beef tips and rice, pork chops, and roast beef during this, all due to kindness of their neighbors. Y’all, when I first found out the neighbor had set them up with his generator, I cried. When I found out about the food, I cried again. When I read about a couple in Amarillo who tried to survive the cold, sleeping in their recliners side-by-side only to be found after one had died and the other was near death, I cried again. But for the kindness of neighbors, that could have been my grandparents. That Amarillo couple is somebody’s family. The mother who tried to warm her child the best way she knew how, only for both of them to die from carbon monoxide poisoning is another heartbreaking tale. Texas is full of such tales right now. Thankfully, due to our humanity and goodness, we have far fewer such tales than we could have had.

As the snow and ice finally melts, what we need now is for our leadership to dig through the muddy slush around them and find their humanity and goodness and take steps to prevent such a disaster from threatening our loved ones and ourselves in the future.

And as soon as I’m COVID vaccinated, my grandparents’ neighbors better get ready for some uncomfortably long hugs.