This blog post has been two months in the making and yet I’m still sitting here, at the very last minute, lost for words to write. Ordinarily, I can so easily describe the goings on in my everyday life. I have no problem coming up with things to say. But this time, I’m stuck. My therapist says I’m in shock and I know she’s right. I don’t think that’s the entire reason I can’t find the words this time. This time, I think I’m also really pensive. I’m scared to come off as too whiny or shallow or dismissive of other’s pain or not dismissive enough of my own family’s grief. I’m afraid to be honest about our house in print. I’m afraid that, if I tell the whole story, it will be perceived in the wrong tone and you – my friends and readers – will judge me. That’s a little of the grief and chaos in my brain talking but it’s also my truth.

But it’s been long enough and if I’m ever going to show you how to overcome a natural disaster, I have to start with the process we’ve endured. So here it is –