One Year On - The Manchester Attack

(Photo: instagram @itsmaryatkinson, Manchester, 22nd May 2018)

[TW - the Manchester attack, terrorism, PTSD. I have tried to make this piece the least triggering I can, while also conveying the raw emotions and still being impactful. However, if you were there, I suggest you proceed with caution as this post could be very triggering. Skip the part in italics if you still want to read but want to avoid the major triggers]

I am not too sure how to begin this post in all honesty. I've been thinking about what to write, how to write it, how to convey the message I want from this post, how words could possibly express this past year; for a long, long, long time now. This past year has been unimaginable, changing my life in so many ways, and reinforcing life lessons I, unfortunately, already learnt.

I had always intended on posting a 'one year on' piece reflecting on how it shaped my life, but also pushing through a more important, higher message. This 'message' has changed over the time that has passed, as have I.

If I was writing this piece just a few months ago I would've begun with my own personal story of Monday, May 22nd; from top to bottom, raw emotion, no details spared.

But today, I realise that's not what the focal point should be. It also wouldn't be healthy. Today, I don't know if I would be able to write in such raw emotion, or if to achieve it I would have to rip myself open like a healed wound, bringing everything back to the surface, back to day 1 (or maybe in my case month 7...) triggering myself and sending all of my progress, all my 'healing' in reverse. 

I realise too this wouldn't be good for readers who are like me either. Also, this is something I feel like I have already done, back when I was still numb (a link to the post I'm referring to is here http://unfortunatehonesty.blogspot.co.uk/2017/08/mcr100days-my-experience.html). Instead, I am going to write only my most lingering memories, thoughts from May 22nd and the aftermath that still tell the story and the night.

I even contemplated not writing this at all. Because, the pain I have suffered from this event, does not even come close to so many other survivors. I felt almost selfish, guilty, for suffering and speaking out about it; as if I was making it all about myself, when that was never my intention. I felt like because so many people suffered more than me, so many people didn't go home that night, so many were hospitalised and so many lives were instantly changed, that my own pain wasn't valid.

But, trauma isn't selective. Every single person that night, suffered to some degree, and I slowly came to realise, just because others suffered more and still are suffering more, it doesn't make my own pain, my own suffering, invalid; and just because I approach things from a personal perspective doesn't mean I am making it 'all about myself'. After all, what other perspective could I approach it from?

The most lasting thing from May 22nd was the emotions.

The thoughts that went through my head, thoughts that no seventeen year old should had, thoughts that people much younger than I would've had, especially judging the median age of the crowd was maybe 14? It scares me to think these were serious thoughts that ran through my head, but also makes me feel proud of my body's logical reaction to such trauma in a weird, messed up, way.

I remember thinking, at 22:31, as a staff member stood next to me, helping people leave their seats, turned around from looking at the site we thought the sound came from, that we had all turned to as the deafening silence that felt like a century, but, was, in reality, a millisecond begun to end, with nothing but shock on her face; instantly crossing out the logical causes, possibilities in my head - 'it was probably pyrotechnics'. As we all began to run, as the panic and reality of the situation set in that is when these thoughts occurred. My first thought, was probably very different to others in the crowd - 'I am cursed, my life is cursed'. Feeling this way, still recovering from falling to rock bottom and having to put myself back together, while everyone carried on with their daily lives and acted like I should've been the same person, the same 'friend' they all knew in early 2016 before I almost died in hospital and had my life completely changed in September 2016 all due to the negligence of a GP I had begged to help me for years prior.

I felt like I was cursed as this was the second possibility of death I'd had in under 12 months. I am not religious, but if I was, I would've felt like God was out to get me. I felt like my life was a roller-coaster of never-ending disasters that would leave me in pieces while the world moved without me.

The second thought was disbelief, denial. You see these things on TV, you think you understand that it could be anyone, it could be anywhere. But you never truly imagine yourself in that situation. You think it can't happen to me, it wouldn't, but, it does...

The third thought was a look into the past, that terrified me of what more could've come. My third thought was about Paris. The Bataclan and how events unfolded then. How destroyed I had felt like a regular concert attendee reading that news, even saying to myself that could've been me, that could be me someday, that would be me someday. How right I was... This second thought instilled more panic into me - 'what if men with guns come in? We're all jammed in these doorways, it would be a guaranteed target, and we would be screwed.' however the panic was still subdued under the fourth thought, the one that truly takes over your entire body.

The fourth thought is your own bodies defence mechanism, your adrenaline kicking in, no matter how hopeless you could've possibly felt, your body, your mind has this in-containable, uncontrollable desire to live, to survive, this feeling that you have so much more to give, so much more life to live.

This thought adapts into plans of survival, ranked in your head by the scenario you are in and the ones it could developed in to. 1. Get out of the building, get somewhere safe. What if you couldn't? Or if there were people outside ready to escalate it? 2. Hide. What if there is nowhere to hide? What if the situation escalates rapidly and you have nowhere to run, hide, no other options? 3. Pretend to be dead.

These thoughts are terrifying now, but they were a plan at the time, generated by my own body's desire to survive. Generated by the adrenaline.

Fortunately, plan one was sufficient. At least for me.

Now a new set of plans were generated, or well a 'plan', singular. Get as far away as you can, get somewhere safe.

As we were emerging the reality and panic of the situation began to hit me, everyone was calling their families, crying and I began to feel guilty, the fact that thought hadn't even hit me. As I began to spiral into panic, running, a man with a small daughter noticed and calmed me down, telling me public places I could go to reunite with friends, I have no idea who he is, to this day but I am really thankful.

The panic subdued for a moment as I got away from the vicinity of the venue, attempting to call family members with no success. I then called a friend on Facetime, who at first began to laugh thinking I was out of breath as I'd had so much fun, we were just on Facetime maybe 3 minutes before singing along together. But, things can change oh so quickly. I panted down the call that there had been 2 explosions, as that was what we had heard at the time, a first one and a second as I neared the top of the stairs, she knew instantly as did I what had happened even though we tried to tell ourselves, "nothing is confirmed yet", "we don't know what happened". She helped me immensely, calling my family, leaving voicemails, telling them what happened as I attempted to find safety and tweeted asking what locations were safe to go to (which got a massive response and helped so much) as my phone began to blow up with worried messages and lots of love and support which meant a lot. This friend stayed on the phone with me all night even panicking with me when I walked past somewhere setting off fireworks. She's someone I feel immensely proud to call one of my best friends.

Fast forward to the aftermath, days later where it was the only thing on the news, the only thing on social media, where you waited for updates, hoping people would be safe and well. I knew it was unhealthy, but I couldn't look away, I felt utterly numb. It was so close to home but also felt like I was never there as if it never happened because it was so surreal. Watching videos of that moment, even spotting myself in one. I was numb.

June:

Just weeks later Ariana announced One Love, showing immense courage and making me even prouder to say I'd been a fan since I was twelve. Ariana and her team had also listened to suggestions other fans and I had made online around One Love, such as free tickets for those who were at the arena which truly made us all feel like she was watching over us, that she cared and wanted to make sure we were all doing ok, even if that wasn't actually factual.

When June 4th came around I had never felt more nervous in my life, I had been jumping at any loud sound, terrified of crowds, unable to concentrate on a thing, constantly on edge for weeks. This event wasn't "the night of my life" like it had been for so many other fans, I was constantly on edge, unable to enjoy a lot of the show, but I wouldn't ever take back my attendance and frankly, I couldn't have had a better person by my side that day.

Without Ariana, without One Love, I know for sure I wouldn't be in the place I am today; I would've hidden away, not even realising I was doing it. Ariana's stand made the biggest impact, and I am forever thankful. 

However, later in June, one of the biggest effects of Manchester began to manifest itself in my life. Dreams.

One night, a late-night, I fell asleep while waiting for some important news. 

Sending my body into undeniably, the worst dream I have ever experienced. I was fully aware it was a dream the entire time - a lucid dream, but unable to wake. It was One Love but different, more sinister. It was the events of Manchester but at One Love and with me at its epicentre, the only way for me to wake was to die in my dream. 

It still haunts me slightly, oh but it gets worse. Once I had awoken, I was unable to move for what felt like a century, but in actuality was about 30 seconds - Sleep Paralysis. There was a heavyweight on my chest, a strange glimmer from the side of my eye (which I later determined was the blurred light from my lamp) I felt like I was being possessed. I began to panic and started to try to move my toes and fingers, eventually awakening. But, what it left was a fear of sleeping for weeks and a trend of horrific dreams (luckily the sleep paralysis, was a one-off.)

August:

After the month of July, which was filled with similar jumpy reactions, fear of crowds, I decided I needed to make two major steps. I decided I needed to start living my life again as it could truly be ripped away from me at any moment.

In mid-august, I went to the Edinburgh Festival which tackled two of my main fears. Crowds and Venues. After, the first day, the first few shows, I began to feel ok, like I always used to. It was at that moment I knew the sentiments of the song 'Be Alright' by Ariana, that had become an anthem to me and my recovery from the trauma were truly true. I knew at that moment too that I would never be the person I used to be, no matter how much I wish I could've been in those past months. But now, I was alright with that. I embraced. 

Just a day after my last day at the festival I took another massive step. 

I went to London for the first time since Manchester, the capital city, which practically had 'crowds' in its definition, to go to my first concert since May 22nd. 

Admittedly, it wasn't the most 'adventurous' concert looking back, a band I was familiar with in a tiny, tiny venue. But, it was a big step, and I am glad it was Against The Current I saw that day. I was glad they were my first show afterwards. It made me feel comfortable, especially knowing of Chrissy's support towards me and this situation. 

In fact, it wouldn't surprise me if she was reading this post right now. In the months after this, as I took more steps her support grew and I am so, so thankful. She was truly like the supportive older sister I didn't have, telling me 'you got this' when I began to doubt myself.

October:

Things began to get better, I felt elated after August, but I was far from over it like my naive mind thought. I was still numb and running on adrenaline. Adrenaline that soon enough my body couldn't keep up with producing. 

Around this time came dream number two of three major ones, that I can't ever forget. Most of my PTSD dreams I forgot or could brush off; this wasn't one of those. 

I don't want to write it too graphically, or mention who was in it, as I know for a fact some of you reading this right now were in it. 

It was a big public event, and just like One Love it turned sinister. This time not in the same way that May 22nd had. It involved guns and knives and former friends, classmates. 

The lasting memory of this dream was having to drag my friend who was bleeding out along the ground to escape as we were being chased, and a former classmate's lifeless and frankly gruesome body falling down an escalator with an almighty snap.

After that, my fear of sleeping came again, and it began to impact my whole life and sent things crumbling down. 

This is where my numbness began to fade, somehow triggered by the Las Vegas shooting, another concert attack. It was then I realised, I couldn't pretend anymore, I couldn't be that person who laughed and shrugged at the idea of being anything but ok, I needed help and I wasn't ashamed of that fact.

November:

Late 2017 was truly my rock bottom. My life spiralled out of my own control leaving me in pieces with no hope for the future. 

I needed to express what was happening to me, I needed help processing this extreme trauma, extreme loss, extreme guilt and a cocktail of emotions, which was difficult for me to process as someone who liked to pretend the bad times never happened, as if they were a fever dream, in order to retain my own sanity, the ability to function in this world. To not let it drain me until all I could see was grey, or leave me feeling numb, even if I had been living in numbness for years completely unaware of that fact. 

There was no reason to be ashamed. 

December:

In December, I returned to Manchester for the first time since One Love and for nothing less than another concert. 

I had another survivor by my side whose feelings throughout the night I shared. 

It was a big moment; one I shouldn't forget about. 

January:

My life was in pieces, but I'd begun to put myself back together, more open this time. With friends I felt like I could confide in; my relationships that had changed in such positive ways and were making such positive changes to my life.

2018 would truly be my year and a year of healing, I just didn't know it yet.

February:

Upon turning eighteen I asked to be referred to adult mental health services, finally having enough courage to do so, and it finally feeling like the right time. I was healing on my own now but knew this would be beneficial, and I cannot express more how mental health was the biggest factor in the aftermath of this event, and how no one like me who experienced what I did should feel ashamed.

I felt left behind in life, like the rest of the world had moved on and left me stranded in the middle of the aftermath and no one should have to feel like that - alone. 

In a way, this is the message of this whole post - self-care, mental health.

In February I also decided to plan another major step, with the support of my friends and Chrissy again, which made it way easier.

March:

In March, I took that step. 

I returned to an arena for the first time. It was a massive step. 

It wasn't Manchester arena (mostly because I couldn't get good tickets for there, and in hindsight now, I definitely wouldn't have been ready for that) but, it still felt like an impossible challenge. However, it was a challenge I overcame. 

Inline I began to panic, cry, wanting to run home and pretend like it never happened, but, that didn't happen. 

The people around me helped and I went in, and I enjoyed it. I genuinely did. 

The lingering feeling from this night though was that even though I was healed on the surface, I had more layers than I realised and more I hadn't dealt with than I realised, and it was at this point again I realised I needed help and I wasn't ashamed.

Also in March, after this massive step, it encouraged me to make another in my life, in another aspect that related so similarly. 

Health. After my traumatic 2016 experience, I avoided talking about it entirely, crying every time I attempted to. 

But, I knew I wanted to move on with my life and eradicate any chances of my illness coming back. I got a date for my first of two 'final' operations.

April:

At the beginning of April, I went to another concert, beginning to think of them as casually as I used to.

Also in April, I used what I had learnt in the past year to overcome my fear of hospitals and the trauma from 2016. 

I had my operation, never feeling prouder of myself than when I awoke afterwards. 

I had panicked badly before being put under, but, when I awoke every fear was gone and I knew, I was truly moving on with my life and becoming the person I want to be and someone I am proud to be.

While in hospital, Ariana released No Tears Left To Cry, my new anthem. A song that truly describes the place in my life I'm at today. A song none of us knew we needed, but made a big impact on us all, excelling our healing. 

May:

Today is Tuesday, May 22nd, 2018. I feel in the best place I have been in years, still not fully healed, but in the best state of mind, one I never imagined myself able to have. 

One year on and we are all healing, moving on, but, never forgetting.

Today, I am going back to Manchester with other survivors, friends to memorial events. 

2018 is the year of healing and moving on. 

It is the year of realising the importance of mental health, especially after trauma and it's not being ashamed. It is the year of living without fears, or trying to, the year of living life for yourself, with your own happiness at the forefront, living every day as if it was your last.

At least, one year on, that is what it is to me.