The morning of the 22nd was a typical morning. Got kids ready and off to school. It was a bit unusual they were getting along, my daughter hugged me (that doesn't happen a lot with a 14yr old). I went for an 8 mile run. While I was running I thought about how crazy life is and how fast it goes by. I have been struggling with a little depression lately and just being a little sad, not about anything in particular and on my run I specifically remember telling myself, "girl you need to adjust your attitude. Look at what great kids you have, you live in a beautiful area, you need to be more positive." So I go home, ate two pieces of toast, straightened up my hair put on a dry tank top and grabbed a disc of pictures that I promised to deliver to a client that works at Beehive Credit Union.
I walked into the bank, where a few of my friends work. Everyone was happy. It seemed slow, there were only two customers, a couple working with one of the tellers and a man talking to the client I was delivering pictures to. The girls that worked there said we have instructions that you have to wait and give him the disc because he wanted to see the pictures first. To be honest, I wasn't in the mood to be there, I didn't feel like 'chit-chatting', but I stayed. A split second later a man, young kid really, wearing a mask over his face rushed into the bank and changed every life in that bank forever. He put the gun in the air, pulled back on the thing on the top (forgive me I know nothing about guns, have never even held one) and said " I want everone to get down. I will kill every mother F*&%^#$ in here if you don't get down. I turned away from him and layed down. There was an older man next to me that wouldn't get down and the robber threatened him again. I looked at the man, sobbing, and said "please get down."
He pointed the gun at the first teller and told her he wanted all her money. He wanted 100's. She gave him all she had and a couple of dye packs. He moved to the next teller and said "No dye packs. I will come back and kill everyone if I find a dye pack." He continued yelling and swearing. I don't know what he said because all I could do was pray. He was straddling my body and spent 2 1/2 minutes right over my head. He was wearing dark jeans and a pair of Jordans, that's all I know. I prayed to the Lord and I thanked Him for blessing me with the most wonderful children in the world. I was grateful for a nice morning. Then I told Him, "Lord I am ok to come home to you today. If my day is today then I am at peace, I am ready. Lord, I don't know how it feels to get shot, but I pray that it is quick and that my family won't have to see me suffer. Give them peace and please show them all the ways that I loved them so much." Then I sobbed, out loud. I was at peace. Then Kristopher Johnson left the bank, and was arrested shortly after.
I know I should be happy to be alive, and I am. I know I should have a whole new perspective on life, and I do. I am also angry. I cry a lot. I want to be alone. I am not afraid of the dark, I am fine to be home alone. I am scared of 3:30pm everyday. I don't know why, but that's when the panic attacks start. I can't catch my breath and I don't sleep at night. I'm not even mad at Kristopher, but I don't forgive him. You hear stories about things that happen on the news, horrible things, it never seems real. There really are evil people who would be willing to kill someone for any ammount of money. They go to schools and shoot to kill everyone in sight. I am pissed that he probably hasn't thought twice about the horror in everyone's eyes that he caused. I want to visit him, and give him all the money I have and tell him all he had to do was ask, I would have given it to him. I went to one session of counseling, there was not a connection with her, I won't go back. I am numb and my stomach hurts all of the time, I feel like the life has been sucked out of me. I pray a lot. I just want the anxiety to go away, but I don't want to forget.
At first I talked about it a lot. Now I just don't want to talk, I want to hide in my closet forever. I guess in some way I was looking forward to meeting my Heavenly Father in person and it didn't happen. Now I have to figure out how to survive. I know time heals, and I hope it works fast. Four minutes of trauma has created a week of emotional hell for me, it shouldn't take so long to work through. I feel ashamed. Nine eleven is tramatic, people who have lost their children is traumatic, and I can't get through 4 lousy minutes of my life.