One Year Later

On this day one year ago, I was in Las Vegas with my two best girls waiting to see the best entertainer, it was their first time seeing Jason Aldean. I'd lost count of how many times I'd seen him. My favorite. 

I had charged my phone just enough to maybe get a few pictures of his set, left my friends behind and went to join the crowd. He started with "They don't know," and I texted Leah and Samantha that I was up in front of out section by the bleachers. A few songs later, I felt someone touch my shoulder, the right one. Leah had come to join me. Another few seconds later, I heard something and asked the person next to me "who would be shooting off firecrackers at a place like this?" I turned to look at Leah, she was walking against the fence to try and see what happened... Then Aldean stopped singing and everything went dark. Leah said we had to go. 

The next 15 minutes felt like days, we couldn't find Samantha, we didn't know where to run, people were falling around us, there was blood. It was a real life nightmare. We got to safety and by some miracle, Samantha got to us. We hid at Desert Rose for hours waiting to get the clear to leave and catch our flight home. I remember texting so many people, "I'm safe and I love you" before my phone officially died. 

The time after that night has not been easy be any means. I still dream about it a few times a week, I'm jumpy, shaky and am more panic ridden than I ever had been prior to that night. I was once fearless at shows and public events, but now, I find it more exhausting than exhilarating. Probably the most embarrassing moment of panic I had was with my boyfriend at the time and we had left a concert early. Just before the fireworks, he was at a food stand ordering a gyro and the fireworks started to go off. I jumped and started to run towards him as if I wanted to save him and push him into safety. He hadn't really witnessed me that way before and I kept telling myself to breathe and calm down but it wasn't until he made me look at the fireworks that I was okay again. That happened very recently, so it's proof that the fear and panic will creep up when least expected and that that fear will never fully go away.

The year has not been easy. At all. And I would say that this last month has been the almost just as bad as it was in the days following the tragedy. This is because I’m back to feeling alone (I know that I’m not alone) and unsafe. For the last 5 months, I was with someone who made me feel safe and Free again. That relationship ended in early September. That’s all I will say about that because I really care about him and have honest feelings for him that I’m also trying to process. But now I’m back wondering where my safe place is. Where do I go when I get scared and have those nightmares?

A constant wonder I've had in these last 365 days is still "why not me?" Why did I survive and a father with two young kids or a nursing student died. Moms, Dads, husbands and wives. They were all somebodies someone. Why did I get out without a physical scratch and they did not? I ask that question every single day and I think it's something that I'll wonder for the rest of my life.

I’ve also noticed major changes in myself and life since that night. I’m truing really hard not to stress out about minor things anymore. For example, I was in line behind a guy at target who was yelling at the cashier because they ran out of paper bags. Why does that stuff matter so much? It doesn’t. I’ve also learned who is really there for me and who really matters in my life. A lot of people reached out after the event but few actually did something about it and got me up and out of bed. Those are the people who matter. I’m a lover and I just want everyone to always be happy and feel love but I have definitely learned who feels that same way towards me.

I didn’t make the trip to Las Vegas for the reunion and I’m so regretful, I don’t really have a reason for not going either. I’m so proud of all the survivors who are there right now, helping each other heal and remembering the 58 angels.

I’ve met a lot of really strong and amazing people this last year who know and understand what hat night was like and I call them family. I never had brothers or sisters, but now I do. They live all over Minnesota but we find ways to meet up at shows and we message each other when we’re not feeling strong and it helps. It really helps. Jessie, Phil, Dru, Steven, Taylor, Jordan, Kayla, Dawn, crystal, Danny, Melissa H, Corinna, Jenna, Kate, Stacey, Janet and Ginger, all the survivors, really.  I truly have a special spot in my heart for you guys. And Samantha and Leah, I couldn’t get through life without your friendship.

I’ve spent a lot of this past week celebrating the good memories. Because like I said, it was 14-15 bad Minutes and hundreds of good ones. How determined I was to rally with the girls on Saturday even though I was pretty sure I should have spent the day in bed with a bucket. That makes me smile. Or telling Maren Morris how bad ass she is. Or waking up and asking if us three could go buy sunglasses together. And Danny sneaking some type of alcohol in a sunscreen tube. Genius. I love those memories so much. And I look at those pictures every day, I will always do that.

2018

We’re halfway through month one of 2018, gladly, I can say I have nothing to report. My mom and I have been arguing for about two weeks, but that’s a can of worms that nobody needs to hear about. Right?

I will say that one of the things said to me by her was that I need to get some serious help. That one hurt. That hurt a lot, especially because it came from the person I should feel the most close to and safe around.

To set it up, we were driving through downtown, we have to share a car at the moment so she needed to come to the radio station with me one night. There was a Wolves game so it was really crowded. Someone cut in front of us near a bus stop that always makes me anxious to be near because of news stories and I don’t particularly like the thought of someone possibly having a gun on them at the moment. She started to yell at the person who cut us off and I asked her to just be quiet while we were in all that traffic because I was anxious. She said I was overreacting and that I need serious help.  Ouch. Huge dagger.

The problem I have is that I was at an event where a huge tragedy happened. People were running for their lives, making last phone calls to their loved ones, screaming. Being shot. Did she forget that 58 people died? I feel as though it’s expected that we move on by now. It was only three and a half months ago!

PTSD is real. And it’s a bitch.

I still shut my eyes and hear/see everything from those 14 ish minutes. I can’t stand the thought of hearing bubble wrap. I go through every day waiting to be scared, waiting for something to send me into a dark place to where I don’t want to leave my bed. It’s exhausting for those of us who have been through something like that to go about our days as though it never happened. Please don’t expect something like this to go away. It doesn’t. We heal and we keep going. We do whatever we can to try and find joy in our lives or to try and figure out the reason we survived. We keep on surviving. Healing means that we’ve got the courage to keep doing things that make us happy and not let the fear take over our lives.

I titled this “2018” because, well, that’s what it is. A new year! What do I want out of this year? Considering how ridiculous 2017 was, the answer is simple. Not much. I do want to pay it forward. I saw an amazing example of kindness and love that horrible night and I think that we could all be more kind to one another. I don’t have the money to donate to causes but I do love to just talk to people and try to put even the smallest smile on their face. In a way, that’s paying it forward. That’s what I want out of the year, more kindness. Kindness from myself and this sometimes effed up world we live in.

Volunteering is on my list, but it can’t be with animals. I don’t have enough tears left, norm will my dog be happy when I show up with 30 new dogs a night. But something. I will volunteer this year.


I also turn 30. Nashville, I shall see you in June. No long-winded explanation needed!

There’s more to come out of this year and I promise (semi-promise) to check back in once in a while. If you actually read this whole thing, thank you. Happy New Year!