0 
0 By Lisa Waugh
There are those things in life you think and hope will never happen to you. Whether it is where you live, the choices you make or clear denial, we all do it at some point. For me one of those things I never though could happen to me, was a flood.
I have lived in this village my whole life, always on a hill. My little sanctuary, my own little home, was even higher up the hill (mountain) than my family home. There’s a waterfall in the village at the bottom and that has flooded, but I was on the side of a mountain, next to a quarry, I could never be flooded. You watch footage of floods on the news. You can’t imagine what those people are going though and what you do imagine, is bad enough but isn’t close to reality. As I now know.
Back on the 12th June, I followed the local news, and worried about being able to get home. I worried about whether others I knew would be okay, as roads were flooded all around. Weeks of heavy rain had resulted in flooding in our area. People were sand bagging at the bottom of my village around the waterfall as it was overflowing in some parts. I even gasped in horror when I saw someone from the lower part of the village had water coming in their home. Due to the road closures, I left work a little early to be sure I would be able to get home okay.
The roads were relatively quiet and I hit no closed roads, what a relief.
As I passed the front of my house I thought the footpath outside and the wall looked wet. I thought the ground water had come up a little and was simply draining under the house (“Hope it doesn’t cause damp.” I thought to myself). Arriving home, I entered my back porch, to be met by water. Water only an inch at the most filled my back porch. I looked through my back kitchen window wondering if the water from the porch had got into my kitchen and saw little wet paw prints, gutted the water had got under the door. “Hope it hasn’t gone too far.” I thought to myself as I let myself in the back door and stepped into my house.
I don’t think anything could of prepared me for what I saw next and as I stepped further in.
The horror hit me, my house was flooded, my living room was full of water! Things were floating, the electrics were sparking, and my poor little Button was scared and sheltering on my sofa.
In those first few moments I can’t remember what I was thinking, but I know, I was in a panic and wasn’t breathing (well maybe a little) I was standing in water in my kitchen looking into a flooded living room. My window was steamed up and the sound of the fizzing and crackling electrics was terrifying. I’m not sure when I started to cry, but as I rang my dad, I was sobbing.
“What’s wrong?” “Have you called your Mum?” “I’m on the way.”
A few bits I remember from my conversation with my dad, as through tears and shock I tried to tell him what was wrong. This was followed was a similar conversation with my mum. As I waited for help, I phoned my work, as it was ten to five and I could let them know I would probably be late the next day! (Probably one of those moments when your brain starts trying to fix things).
I can remember my mum arriving and insisting on turning off the electrics which meant going in the water to reach it. I remember making her wear my wellies so she didn’t get wet feet. Rescuing Button, my dad arriving, texting my sister to let her know what happened and I wouldn’t be able to come to help with the horses, and them all trying to help me, fishing things from the water. Rescuing what we could, all the while, I was struggling to stay calm, just trying to breathe.
Its going to be okay, was said over and over but I couldn’t see how that would ever be true. My little safe haven, my hiding place from the world and my own mind, was ruined. It was gone. My little piece of sanctuary, had been washed away. Ruined like a piece of pottery that’s broken and glued back together, it’s nice even beautiful, but will never be as it was. Even if the decorators do the most amazing job, it wont ever be what it was for me.
Its almost 10 weeks, and I still cannot think of it without tears.
Which is part of the reason writing this has taken so long. It’s not just the initial shock and upset, while the water is there, it’s each step you take after. Drom the first thing of ripping the carpet up, to sorting through to see what belongings can be saved, to the builders coming to see what needs doing. The fact that things get worse as you go along, as more stuff has to be ripped out.
Watching them take away my furniture, was heart-breaking
They were items I had bought when I moved in and some I had bought while still living with my parents that I’d moved with. They were only material objects, but they each had a meaning or memory.
Another hard day was the day the drying out started. Something I’d waited 4 weeks for, and been so excited about, delayed because they found asbestos (lucky me) and having to have it removed, yet watching them remove wallpaper and some of the last pieces of skirting boards, broke me all over again, yet more of my little hidey hole was being damaged or taken from me. After 4 long weeks, of noisy machines, and extreme heat (well for my house) it was dry, yay, but a few days later, I found a favourite book that I thought had escaped, undamaged, was damaged beyond saving, another really hard blow, it was only a book, and a book I hadn’t read in a while, but it was another symbol, another part of me, gone.
My safety zone
As much as I feel lonely a lot of the time, being on my own in my little house, curled up on the sofa, was my safe place. I could escape the world, and my own intrusive thoughts. I could cry my heart out, or ignore the thoughts and sadness. It didn’t matter, either way. My house (and sofa, cushions and duvet) didn’t judge. They didn’t have an opinion, or try to help. It was my last comfort blanket I had left, and was taken from me in an instant.
When I go to my house, it feels like my house, but doesn’t at the same time. The living room is basically a shell. Empty with only the quarry tiles on the floor, bits of wallpaper and my curtains over the window that looks out on the road.
Everything that made it my home and my safe, quiet zone, gone.
I’ll get it back and it will look ace. I’ll make sure of that. How long it will take to be my safe place again, I don’t know.
Being able to curl up in my living room, is something I cant wait for. It’s lovely being home with my parents and am so lucky I can have this time with them. But I know for me to get the most of it, I have to have that quiet time. That lets my mind and soul heal a little and relax.
I’m so lucky I didn’t lose more in the flood water, and I am so thankful for that.
1in4 UK Book Store:
[amazon_link asins='1977009336' template='ProductGrid' store='iam1in4-20' marketplace='US' link_id='ffcb5f04-1297-11e8-8b2c-c721ea9703cc']
Reproduced with permission, originally posted here: lisadwaugh.blogspot.com
UNITED STATES
UNITED KINGDOM
