Let me start by telling you a bit about myself. Who am I? Well, before writing this blog I was the deadweight you were trying to ditch post-apocalypse. Now I am a slightly more valuable asset to a tribe of hopeful survivors.
In this world of the seemingly have and have nots I seem to be among the extremely fortunate world of haves, even if just half a have. I am in need of little and probably spend too much time contemplating wants. I thought about being a minimalist and now donate seasonally. When I donate I always pick up five books for four bucks because…I love to read. I really enjoy science fiction and suffer, as I’m sure most do here, with a healthy dose of paranoia. After reading one particular novel, Station Eleven, by Emily St John Mandel, my mind ran away from me. Set in my own city of Toronto, Canada, I found myself thinking about it constantly and coming to the same realization each time; I would probably have died in the theatre scene. To be clear, Act 1, sc. 2 someone coughs, I die.
Unlike me, my husband is a well-travelled camper. Faced with the same scenarios he would probably survive for the foreseeable future. That’s great if we’re together, but what if I’m not with him when disaster strikes. If a nuclear bomb strikes and all hell breaks loose in our city and he can’t get to me, I would die. I might cling to some unsuspecting people for a few days, but my humor only gets me so far, and truthfully I’ve never been that funny in emergencies. The fact that I would face an early death in all of my scenarios really annoyed me. More than the inevitable death factor, I mean it totally sucked to admit that I, a strong, capable, well-educated woman was, in the face of danger, in fact weak nay, feeble.
My kids are a huge factor in this, so I realize that I come to the table with many vulnerabilities and little to offer. It terrifies me to admit that I can’t even handle cloth diapers or negotiating hair brushing without a treat, but I have faith that I will teach myself and my kids how to be more resilient and more self-confident about the wilds of nature. After all I am a strong, capable, well-educated woman and what I don’t know I can learn, so you will too.
I sense this wave of paranoia spreading like wildfire today, and while I want to stick my head in the sand, read: bottle of wine, I recognize that I need to discard my rose coloured glasses, even if just a little, in order to give myself and my family a chance at surviving what may come. Even if nothing comes, I feel that this sort of knowledge is integral to human existence. I want to be able to rub sticks and make fire. I want to be able to build shelter in nature and forage successfully for food. I will be an asset, I will survive.
So, thank you for stopping by. Hopefully you will learn a thing or two and won’t feel totally clueless when faced with what to do WTSHTF (when the shit hits the fan). See you’re already learning…