For fifteen years my husband Farrell and I lived within 3 blocks of the WTC.  On Sept 11th I stood on the corner of Warren and West Broadway as the first plane flew over my head and became lost in a fireball.  I ran an excruciating block to find Farrell and the two of us shared what we thought were our last kisses.  We continued watching the Twin Towers helplessly while so many lept to their deaths.  The crowd around us hushed as the next plane appeared ominously in the sky and the world turned upside down.  After months of evacuation the City finally deemed our building safe and we returned to our artist loft — only to be priced out three years later by the “recovery efforts.”  Our neighborhood had become the most expensive and desirable real estate in NYC. But, whatever happended and wherever we would end up, we were thankful to be alive and have the gift of rebuilding our lives.

In 2006 I proudly celebrated that I was finally over my 9/11 PTSD.  That same year I accepted a position working for a woman who would make me understand what the term workplace bullying meant. Ironically, I actually started that position on 9/11/2006.  Four years later, 9/11/10, I am finally celebrating my ability to – once again – land on my feet and recover from the horror of that experience.  Hope and resilience are glorious things that I deeply cherish and hope to pass on to others.  You may not always be able to see them…but they are glinting away somewhere at a cloudy distance…and they are definitely worth finding.

SAVE THE 9/11 FIREFIGHTERS – SUPPORT THE JAMES ZAGRODA 9/11 HEALTH BILL!