It’s been two months plus, nine weeks since Hurricane Ida blew in and slapped us upside the head. A lot has happened in those nine weeks, a lot of self-discovery.

I have never evacuated from a hurricane. My father was a Louisiana State Trooper and we always stayed because he had to work. My husband is a retired Louisiana State Trooper and due to his job, we never left. I could have but I wasn’t leaving my husband behind.

I have always said that I would stay through a Cat 3 hurricane. We built our house, literally, with our own two hands. I operated a table saw, drills, air-hammers, right alongside my husband. I know my house is strong and I feel safe in my house. My husband also made sure my closet is reinforced as a safe room from the weather. Baring a tornado, I have always felt safe in my house.

On the other hand, I always said if a Category 4 was heading in, it was time to get the hell out of Dodge, especially if we were going to be east of the eye. That is known as the dark side, the side that spawns tornadoes. So, what was I doing the Saturday as Hurricane Ida was making her trek through the gulf, heading straight for us as a Cat 4? I wasn’t getting the hell out of Dodge, that’s for sure. I was answering texts asking when I was leaving. We weren’t. For all my bluster I had resigned myself to staying because I knew hubby was determined not to leave. 

My husband watched the weather most of Saturday. It becomes a pastime in the South as we gear up for a storm. The last thing I remember before I fell asleep is he was watching the weather. The hurricane was growing mean and in my mind, it was too late to leave anyway. So, imagine my surprise when he woke me from a dead sleep at 5:30 in the morning wanting to know if I thought we should leave.

He was a rattling mess and his anxiety was in full gear. A close friend had called and said he had been praying most of the night and now that the storm was coming in as a high Cat 4 and possibly a 5, he felt it was time to leave. He was heading out the door. I will spare you the theatrics, but I could see that the rattling mess I was dealing with wasn’t going to be far behind.

Did I want to evacuate? Seriously?! Yes, on Saturday, on Friday, or Thursday. Now I was ready to just hunker down with a pillow and blanket in the bottom of my closet and take a good long nap. That wasn’t to be. Did I want to evacuate? Did I think it was a good idea? The storm was increasing in intensity and barreling in on us. If we were leaving, then we needed to head out. What could I do except tell the rattling mess “I guess we can leave.”

Once that was settled, I literally didn’t know what to do next. I got dressed and grabbed my back bag and headed to the closet to grab a few things. Believe it or not, that’s exactly what I did. I was standing in the closet wondering what did I really need for an overnight trip. None of the thoughts I was having were registering with actions. I grabbed ten pairs of underwear (whatever happened, I would have clean underwear) and a pair of jeans, and three shirts. I went to the bathroom to wash my face and thought, I need my toothbrush (forgot the charger), toothpaste, a brush, and my meds. Then, I reached into the closet and grabbed a handful of panty liners (just trying to be real.) 

Meanwhile, hubby was actually packing. I say this because I am the packer in the family. He had THREE bags. I just thought the anxiety had finally consumed him. I went into the kitchen and walked in circles. We had plans to leave the Thursday for a month in Wyoming so there were bags of food for the trip. The thought never registered to bring food with us. In all honesty, nothing was registering. In my mind I thought bring what I need for a quick overnight trip, we would be back the following afternoon and I would pack up as planned and we would be heading out Thursday. I was totally unprepared for the reality that hit hours later. I wanted to stay in my safe place, my house, and instead, I was leaving my safe place and traveling to a place I had never been and didn’t know anyone. For a highly sensitive person, that is way too much chaos and uncertainty.

A psychologist would have a field day with what we left with; a portal to our thought process. Hubby packed three bags and left them on the living room floor. I packed underwear and no pajamas and little else. We walked past food and didn’t pick anything up. When we drove out of the garage, there were soft drinks and chips that were on the floor and hubby put those in the truck. He had packed bike helmets and life jackets, and gas cans. That is it. I kid you not. 

When my husband woke me up from a dead sleep and said if we were leaving, we needed to go, now, the cartoon began in my head and I began to panic. It was like a huge wave was coming in and we needed to outrun it. The reality was we could have taken a moment to breathe and gather our thoughts and then acted a little more rationally. The storm was still offshore and we had time to pack. That wasn’t what happened. It was an episode of I Love Lucy. 

I learned a few weeks later, after talking with other women after church one day, that I didn’t know how to evacuate. It’s true. There is a science to it. They all have a container and they know exactly what precious items they want to save and they pack them. They bring three sets of old clothes for work cleaning up, three sets of good clothes, and they have a list of food to pack. They have an evacuation routine and it makes sense. If my husband had said pack like we are going camping, I would have immediately been in packing mode, but I didn’t have a clue about packing to evacuate. Lesson learned – if we ever have to evacuate again, we are packing the trailer and heading out in advance of the traffic. 

Upon returning home after the storm, I began to document my feelings and our journey, first as a way to just stay sane and then to let others who do not experience hurricanes learn about our journey, our state of mind, the chaos, and the cleanup. I will be posting the stories in the order I wrote them along with pictures. I invite you to follow along in the aftermath.