KIDS AND COMMUNITY
By: Judy Shepps Battle
Since Sept. 11, America has discovered a new meaning for "learning the ABCs." Anthrax, bioterrorism and Cipro have become part of our national vocabulary as we struggle to absorb the reality of the world situation.
Our domestic and personal safety has changed. We wait on long lines to enter public areas at airports and entertainment events. Personal and business mail, once torn open without a second thought, is now closely examined for signs of tampering. Each bug bite, skin irritation, or flu symptom suggests the possibility no matter how fleeting of having contracted a form of anthrax.
The call-up and deployment of military personnel has been swift; most of us know at least one man or woman on active duty. Patriotism shines on their faces, even as we fear the loss of lives.
Government officials urge us to be scrupulously aware of people, places, and things, and yet we are to go about our normal activities without fear. This is easier said than done.
There are no instruction manuals that outline what to do after we have built our "disaster kit" (water, food, clothing, cash, medical supplies) and instructed our loved ones where to meet if we’re separated.
I believe that as we identify and own our personal fears we grow stronger.
Intuitive solutions appear as our perceived danger level diminishes. As we share our fears as well as our solutions with others, a spirit of community is formed that multiplies our strength.
I believe that each of us must build a "Crisis Response Manual" based on our own biography. We must identify our fears and learn from our response. And then we must share our process with others.
Central Jersey is uncomfortably close to the epicenter of terrorism. Not only did many area families lose loved ones on Sept. 11, but anthrax-infested envelopes sent to media have born a fairly local postmark Trenton.
One letter had Franklin Park (separated from North and South Brunswick by a scenic two-lane highway) as its return address. The handwritten ZIP code was for Monmouth Junction, a division within South Brunswick.
While it is doubtful that the terrorists live locally, it is clear that they did at least visit the area.
When the anthrax envelopes were shown on TV and the return postmarks identified, I was shocked, and numb with fear. Nausea, muscle ache and feelings of helplessness consumed me, just as on Sept. 11.
Until the information about the origin of the anthrax-filled letters became public, I had nearly convinced myself that the Twin Towers and Pentagon terrorism was a single episode of kamikaze insanity. I anticipated that a "War Against Terrorism" would be fought on foreign soil and that I would watch it on CNN.
Psychologists call this response "denial," which is normal in a traumatic event. We exhaust ourselves pretending that the event will simply go away before we ever begin to find creative solutions. It is just human nature.
As my post-Sept. 11 denial system crumbled, I was surprised to find a new strength replacing it. The "war" was a reality, and I knew I had to deal it.
I then realized two very important things: I was capable of defending myself and fighting back if I were personally attacked, and I did not have to do this alone.
I felt the strong presence of neighbors and our community resources (police, fire and emergency medical service personnel). Anger replaced my earlier fear and denial. My initial victim posture changed to one of a strong and determined woman.
My feet are now firmly planted and my arms are crossed as I say "no" to those who would take over my country, my community and my emotional consciousness.
A strength has filled me that comes from generations of women and men who have refused to bow to injustice.
Just for today, I am no longer afraid.
I have benefited from many methods of healing from intense early traumatic experiences. Years of post-traumatic stress disorder therapy have made me aware of the frightened little child inside myself. I know it is my responsibility as an adult to protect that child and to try to explain an irrational violent world.
Decades of being in 12-Step recovery has taught me that the antidote to fear is faith spiritual (faith in Creator), emotional (faith in self) and communal (faith in community).
I also have learned that nothing happens in God’s world by mistake. Even horrific events can be instruments of major positive social and personal change.
The mighty events of Sept. 11 threaten environmental safety, and they also make each of us search for a safe place within. As we find this place and are grateful for our safety, it’s our natural instinct to want to share it with others.
Somehow the magnitude of the world events has melded my therapy lessons with my recovery lessons. This has no doubt happened with others, and so I invite people to write and share their experience, strength and hope in this area. As 12-Step programs are fond of saying: "Together we can do what we cannot do alone."
I look forward to a new day when the national ABCs will stand for Awareness, Benevolence and Community.
Judy Shepps Battle is a South Brunswick resident, addictions specialist and freelance writer. She can be reached by e-mail at [email protected].

