Monday, June 19, 2006

Not long now

J and I spent the whole weekend working. So I didn't get to see my new nephew, because there wasn't any time.

I cannot wait for all this to be over. I cannot wait for 8th July . I have been writing about this stuff for a year now. I don't think about 7th July all the time anymore, and this blog is the place where I do all that stuff, where I put all the fall out.

If it wasn't for the campaign for a public inquiry, and the interest in 7th July from other people, especially the media, I don't think I'd be thinking about it so much. I still care passionately about the people affected by 7th July. I still think it is important that I do all I can to stop more suffering. There is the impending anniversary to deal with, and the trying to explain to people what PTSD is like so that they can understand and be compassionate to people who have it. All this is important to me. But I have to get through the next two weeks, until 7th July comes once more, and then I have to move away and write about other stuff. A year chronicling the personal and political fall out from one bloody train journey that never ended, and in some ways, still never ends. The anniversary is going to be important; it will, I hope, mark the end of something, a chance to leave a dark place and step out into the sunlight. Safe. Alive, with a life to look forward to that is about more than this last year. With new friends in my life, the people from the train.

I've been struck by how many people have re-evaluated after 7/7. One man has left his City sales job and is retraining as a primary school teacher, another woman is moving to Australia, thinking about being a physiotherapist. Me, my way of getting something positive was to set up the group, to blog about it, to campaign for a public enquiry, to try and help people. Now I want my old life returned to me, so I can see, if I step away, what is different and whether I want anything to change. I've learned lots of things in the last 12 months, met some amazing people, started to write, got engaged. I think that is enough for now. I loved my life last summer, and before I even change anything, I want it back.

'I am so sick of 7th July '', I told J last night as we sat in the darkening garden. He put his arm round me. 'Music to my ears, ' he said.


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