It's very easy for people to predict how they will react in a situation. God knows I used to do it. It's a bit embarrassing thinking back to all the time I wasted on 'What if?' daydreaming. What if a gunman walked into the door right now? What if someone tried to mug me? What if I had to choose to dive in front of a car to save someone? Of course, the majority of these daydreams ended with me miraculously saving the day in an altruistic and impressive manner while everyone else dithered uselessly. The point is everyone has mental representations how they expect to behave. With astounding accuracy I can tell you these are wrong.
It’s a horrible feeling, the realisation of having a choice of action in a moment of fear. Adrenaline, which you aren’t used to, pumps around your body, making you shake. In your mind you can feel aspects of your beliefs and values literally clashing. The dyadic between right and wrong, violence and passivity, fight and flight begin to shout at each other. What usually happens in moments like these for the inexperienced is... nothing. You freeze. Unable to untangle these thoughts that occur in a split second, no decision is made. The moment then either passes or forces action from you. Either way, this moment will stay with you for the rest of your life, ready to rear its head whenever you begin to feel happy, an ugly reminder of the fragility of your humanity.
I have regrets. They haunt me to this day, and I suspect they will haunt me to my dying breath. Why am I telling you this you may wonder? I feel obliged to inform you. I am a survivor, not a victim. To think otherwise would be a mistake, one that several have made since this outbreak started. I only ask, gentle reader, that you don’t judge me too harshly. Like everyone else, I was inexperienced; I didn’t know how to act. You can’t apply the morality of the pre-apocalyptic world to this new one. It collapsed in on itself so quickly many people died because they couldn’t make the choice they needed to. I managed to make enough to keep myself alive, but sometimes I wish I hadn’t. It’s not easy living with blood on your hands.
Nothing is black or white, nor does anyone have the luxury to decide to be. It was easier to picture things this way, it’s hard to see straight when everything is gray.
Still Surviving,
Katherine
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