Adjusting to a new way of life

Returning home wasn’t the sigh of relief I expected to feel being back on my island. I didn’t expect life to be like it was, but I certainly wasn’t expecting what I’m finding. It’s a new way of living and it will take a bit of adjusting.

Mom and I returned to Galveston on Saturday after spending 3 weeks in San Antonio, far removed from the reality of life back in Galveston. But seeing the seemingly never-ending piles of rubble in front of house after house is a sad reminder of what the storm has left behind. And after hearing grim news from my employer today, I wonder if we’ve really seen the worst of Ike’s damage, or if more is yet to come.

Every business seems to have a “now hiring” sign up, trying to replace employees who couldn’t wait for their jobs and had to find new ones. What businesses are open have limited hours. Restaurants close before 7 p.m. You have to wait in line at Wal-Mart and Target just to get in the store because there isn’t enough staff to accommodate free-flowing traffic inside. Tonight, Wal-Mart was closed at 7 because the crowd inside would take at least 2 hours to clear out and the store closes at 9. So at 7, no more people were let in.

Trying to get someone by to fix a leaky toilet or something minor, yet annoying, as that, is virtually impossible. And I think you can tell that people’s patience is wearing thin. I’m again reminded how strong those folks must have been in 1900. I’m beginning to wonder if I have what it takes to endure the transition back to normal, not knowing how long that will take. Or should we just give up on the idea of normal as we once knew it and accept life on Galveston Island is something new.

I know city leaders are trying to promote that the island is fast on its way to recovery, and even have two major events planned for the fall. But it’s hard to see that recovery when my appliances remain on my curb, waiting to be picked up. Or when you continue to drive through your neighborhood and see all the signs of so much extensive damage. I drove through last night after dark and there were very few houses with people in them – only the empty shells with piles of worldly possessions, sheetrock and AC duct work sitting on the curb.

Life right now for me is a series of tasks all aimed at moving forward. Today, I spent 3 hours with the folks at the Texas Windstorm Association so I could get an advance on my windstorm coverage’s evacuations costs. I’m finally starting to see some of the aid and insurance money coming in, but still, it’s overwhelming to try and figure out a budget for spending it. What comes first? Clothes, since the only clothes I have are the ones I evacuate with and what I purchased in San Antonio. Or should I pay my outstanding bills for cleanup? Do I try to find somewhere else to live or just ride it out with mom for several months? Do I start to look for a job elsewhere or just consider it a sign if I end up losing my job over all of this? And just how will I continue the nearly full-time job of recovery while returning to work in two weeks?

At least in San Antonio we had a sense of hope that all would be well and normal again. Being back home seems to strip a little of that hope each day. Every time I think I’m doing OK and have come to terms and am at peace about what happened, something pops up to remind me how upside life feels right now and that the life I knew was washed out with the tide.