The train crash changed me down to my DNA. I didn't realize it at the time - I was only eight years old and with a bunch of kids from my overnight camp when a truck plowed into the train car in front of ours. None of us were injured but the train flipped over like that game "Crack the Whip" and we went flying from our seats as it tumbled into a ravine. When it was all over, we were shepherded away from the scene with the demolished truck and the dead bodies, led to the front of the train that had not derailed, and carried on as if nothing happened. A man boarded at a later stop and handed us a piece of paper to give to our parents. When we arrived in Chicago, it was as if nothing happened. I think I lost the paper.
A few months later my folks and I were at O'Hare ready to board a jet when I suddenly felt like I was going to die in that plane. I knew it was going to crash and I became hysterical, begging my parents not to make me go. I am certain they were confused because I was the kid who loved to fly, who once asked a stewardess when we were going to "blast off", who embraced turbulance -- the bumpier the better. Now I was crying and shaking in front of dozens of staring strangers -- and my mother scolded me and told me I was being an embarassment. Much worse than the fear was the intense shame I felt. Something was wrong with me - and I didn't understand why I couldn't control myself.
This was in 1966 - long before PTSD became almost a buzzword. It took me decades to overcome my fear of flying and understand why it happened. Interestingly, the shame lingers to this day.
You know, the thing that sticks with me about your story is the "silence," the "as if nothing happened." This is probably an important aspect of trauma and worth exploring in future posts about Nightwalking, which might merely echo sadness and trauma, but I'm just figuring that out. So grateful you shared this. :-)
Ugh. Do I have to explain my mood to a twelve year-old? In front of a class! So I ignore, try to move on with my lesson, and dismiss.
I also don’t find the student later and mention, “You know? I wasn’t feeling so great. Thanks for asking. I’m feeling better now.”
Why not? People talk about their sprained ankle, their sinus headache, or their upcoming root canal. But mood? It’s often either “Good!” or “Don’t wanna talk about it.” As far as all the emotions that Brown mentions, well, that just might be too much work to explain!
So the next time someone ask me, “What’s wrong?” I might find the right time to explain.
Great story! And like my episode, similar in missed opportunities. Where I could have thanked that kind woman for pointing out my mood (affecting her), you had a roomful of 12-year olds who could have learned a vital lesson in mood management. What if you had said, "[Jason, or Josh, or whatever his name was] you are correct. I am upset. But you have reminded me it wasn't proper to do that in the middle of class, and I'm grateful you mentioned it. [Addressing the whole class] I hope you all remember that emotions are contagious, like Covid, and we're all stronger by acknowledging this!" Then, boom, another lesson slamdunk, teach. We're all a work-in-progress, thank God. ;-)
The train crash changed me down to my DNA. I didn't realize it at the time - I was only eight years old and with a bunch of kids from my overnight camp when a truck plowed into the train car in front of ours. None of us were injured but the train flipped over like that game "Crack the Whip" and we went flying from our seats as it tumbled into a ravine. When it was all over, we were shepherded away from the scene with the demolished truck and the dead bodies, led to the front of the train that had not derailed, and carried on as if nothing happened. A man boarded at a later stop and handed us a piece of paper to give to our parents. When we arrived in Chicago, it was as if nothing happened. I think I lost the paper.
A few months later my folks and I were at O'Hare ready to board a jet when I suddenly felt like I was going to die in that plane. I knew it was going to crash and I became hysterical, begging my parents not to make me go. I am certain they were confused because I was the kid who loved to fly, who once asked a stewardess when we were going to "blast off", who embraced turbulance -- the bumpier the better. Now I was crying and shaking in front of dozens of staring strangers -- and my mother scolded me and told me I was being an embarassment. Much worse than the fear was the intense shame I felt. Something was wrong with me - and I didn't understand why I couldn't control myself.
This was in 1966 - long before PTSD became almost a buzzword. It took me decades to overcome my fear of flying and understand why it happened. Interestingly, the shame lingers to this day.
You know, the thing that sticks with me about your story is the "silence," the "as if nothing happened." This is probably an important aspect of trauma and worth exploring in future posts about Nightwalking, which might merely echo sadness and trauma, but I'm just figuring that out. So grateful you shared this. :-)
“What’s wrong, Mr. Hahn, you seem really upset?”
“I’m fine. Now let’s just get back on task.”
Ugh. Do I have to explain my mood to a twelve year-old? In front of a class! So I ignore, try to move on with my lesson, and dismiss.
I also don’t find the student later and mention, “You know? I wasn’t feeling so great. Thanks for asking. I’m feeling better now.”
Why not? People talk about their sprained ankle, their sinus headache, or their upcoming root canal. But mood? It’s often either “Good!” or “Don’t wanna talk about it.” As far as all the emotions that Brown mentions, well, that just might be too much work to explain!
So the next time someone ask me, “What’s wrong?” I might find the right time to explain.
If I’m in the mood.
Great story! And like my episode, similar in missed opportunities. Where I could have thanked that kind woman for pointing out my mood (affecting her), you had a roomful of 12-year olds who could have learned a vital lesson in mood management. What if you had said, "[Jason, or Josh, or whatever his name was] you are correct. I am upset. But you have reminded me it wasn't proper to do that in the middle of class, and I'm grateful you mentioned it. [Addressing the whole class] I hope you all remember that emotions are contagious, like Covid, and we're all stronger by acknowledging this!" Then, boom, another lesson slamdunk, teach. We're all a work-in-progress, thank God. ;-)
Yes, we are!