Back to the Anger Phase of Flood Grief
I lied – not purposely mind you, but I really thought I was getting to a better place and had worked through my anger. Grief/trauma specialists say that it is common to fluctuate through stages of grief rather than sail straight through to acceptance. That’s true for me because I am experiencing overwhelming anger again.
Why? Because I am getting news daily that seems more grim and forboding, and crushing my hopes that I will be able to navigate reasonably through this process.
We must endure so many regulations, red tape, multiple inspections, permits, and lots of extra time. Which means if we do evertything required, we will all be displaced from our homes that much longer.
To add insult to injury, we were price gouged on restoration and we have to take the guy to court to get a partial refund.
I have a time clock ticking as I have an 88 year old father living with me. Six months of displacement would be disastrous.
Plus I don’t enjoy being homeless. Yes, homeless. That would accurtely describe many of us right now. Our home is not habitable yet we must pay mortgage, taxes, bills. And wait.
Adding to my anger is the news that monies were set aside to refine the flood retention basins infrastructure but it was not done, and was diverted to other projects. There are rumors that the bayou near our home was supposed to be widened to hold more water. Again, not done.
In the meantime there are approximately 4000 homeowners whose lives are hanging in the balance, because our homes were destroyed by this disgusting flood. They are good, law abiding, high tax paying, hard working citizens, whose lives have been disrupted because some politicians couldn’t get their act together to do what was needed to be done to prevent this.
You can see why I am seething.
I can’t even go there for the poor souls who have to rely on FEMA alone because they didn’t even have flood insurance. For sure, they will be homeless. (Some people opted out of flood insurance because it is expensive and if you live in a 500 year flood district, and have NEVER flooded, you feel safe in doing that – it wasn’t reckless given the history.)
Our beautiful, peaceful neighborhood resembles a war zone, looking like a bomb was dropped here with all the resulting rubble outside the homes stretching up and down, block after block. People from other areas are driving past us shaking their heads in shock and disbelief. How could this once handsome neighborhood be reduced to a giant pile of refuse?
We are traumatized, sorting and discarding possessions, documenting, cleaning, and soldiering through this nightmare. To equate this to something people could related to, imagine a fire destroying not one home but 4000 homes – it is that kind of destruction here.
Though I am loathe to call us victims, this whole episode is starting to smell kind of funny to me (as smelly as my house is currently) because I think this could have been avoided. And if that’s the case, yes, we are victims. It’s not Houston’s first go-round with a flood event. You would think the government would learn from the past and not let people spend a fortune on a beautiful home that could be destroyed easily in a weather event, without some sort of strong anti-flooding infrastructure.
Now excuse me while I try to calm myself with chocolate/alcohol or both.