9/11 and September Depression 

What’s the hardest part of September? 

For me September comes with depression. The weather changes, traffic increases, school starts and 9/11. 

I remember September 11 2001, 15 years ago, reaching to school late. My class was located upstairs the principal’s office so I had to pass the teachers break room before I got to class. I glanced in as I did most times but something was different. There were some form six students glued to the TV and teachers all around.  I was late, why weren’t they in class? I glimpsed the screen. I swore it was a movie. Tears welled up. 

All I thought was about all the people who had been injured. I continued watching. Tower one collapsed. I was lost. 

I remember heading to class in tears. Hearing the flight number I vaguely remember worry about one of my cousins and their trip to NEw York and wondering if this was the number I heard. I scraped the floors of my mind to be certain. Fear ripped through me. I cried.  

Getting home that day I took a taxi in. As the car approached I saw my mom walking. Hunched, more like crawling. Her body begging to make it inside. As the car passed her and stopped I exited and faced her. She was about one house away. Her face was contorted with worry and fear. All my fears came back. I was so wrong 

It was my Aunty. My Aunty I had spoken to the Sunday before this Tuesday. The Aunty who promised to make me my graduation dress. The Aunty who joked about my wedding, pressed my hair out like no other, had a genuine soul, an unforgettable smile, red skin, brown hair and an infectious sprit. 

You see she worked in the tower. I know I said the tower but that’s because there is only one in my mind. That. One. Tower.  

I remember mom leaving with my grandma and uncles. I remember my family who laughs all the time silent. I remember seeing grandma age. No AGE OVERNIGHT. I remember my uncle, in New York, missing. No one could find him. He was searching for his wife. He was deep in ash and rubble. He was on every corner and block. He was a mad man. 

I remember they called. They were laughing again. It was after the service. There wasn’t anything found to put in a casket. They planted a tree. They renamed a street. They fondly remembered her. 

There was a knock. The door was answered. Dental records were used. She was truly gone. 

Silence. 

A sigh of relief when the plane lands safely in Trinidad. 

A year later or so. The phone rings. 

Mom is at her desk at work. The phone rings. She answers. It’s the Us Embassy. “Are you sitting down ma’am ” 

“We regret to inform you your sister Clara Hinds was one of the souls lost……….”

Silence. 

Every year I’m bombarded with post on 9/11. I don’t know if any of my family actually went to any services locally. I’ve been to ground zero. I’ve seen her name etched beautifully in the pool. I’ve struggled to make it through the exhibit. 

I’m left with conspiracy theories post from people who weren’t affected, documentaries, articles. 

I don’t watch TV in September. 

I walk on eggshells around my mom in September. 

I wish someone would wake me up when September ends. 

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Separation anxiety 


Right now I’m dealing with serious separation anxiety. My LO screams bloody murder when ever I leave her with someone else, even a family member. 

My SO celebrated his birthday on Wednesday and we plan to have some drinks on Saturday. That will entail leaving my LO with my sister for a few hours during the day into the evening. To try to ease this I have been leaving her for short times with my sister (who she knows) with toys and with her big sister around and my four month old just screams.  

I know of seperation anxiety usually from 6 months but four months is ridiculous. 

Now because of her blood curdling cries I’m up at 3:00am on Friday morning worrying about the feasibility of Saturday’s outing. 


My heart is beating no thumping, I feel nauseous, I have a headache and I can’t sleep. My nerves of being away and her crying endlessly till I get back is taking a toll on me. This is an avoidable seperation. 

I’m stuck between a rock and sever hard places. 

I’m slowing becoming depressed about leaving her.  I think it’s harder on me that her. 

All the what ifs play in my mind. 

What if my sister can’t handle it and just leaves her to cry? I know that won’t happen but my mind is plaguing me with questions. 

What if she is so upset she won’t eat or sleep or even calm down? I’d be far away on a boat at that and not able to come home! 

I’m a mess. 

Parenting.