Boston Bombings and Aftermath Stirs Up Full Range of Emotions
In what can only be described as a scary, intense, and downright crazy week in the news, I can’t recall the last time I felt such a mix of emotion.
And I know I’m not the only one.
The entire situation in Boston is what’s getting the biggest reaction from me. I woke up this morning and felt like I was in an episode of 24. (Jack Bauer, where are you??)
I’m angry. Because two men (and maybe more) took innocent lives and caused gruesome injuries to others. Because I can’t do anything about it. Because journalism has turned from reporting to guessing and because everyone wants their news immediately but then gets mad when it’s inaccurate — and I’m angry because I’m guilty of both of those things.
I’m sad. That a little boy won’t get to grow up. That parents are burying their children. That a friend of mine is currently holed up in her closet in Watertown, MA scared to death of what is going on around her. That people are afraid to go to the places they love and to do the things that make them happy.
I’m proud. Of the brave men and women who rushed to the scene to help. Of the badass police officers that got one of the bad guys and are going to get his brother. Of the ways that people have put aside their petty differences to support the people in need.
I’m annoyed. That the first suspect was killed without having to answer questions, face a trial, or be properly punished. That so many people assumed the perpetrator was dark-skinned, and published photos of innocent people declaring them guilty for that reason. That I can’t think of the right words to say on the air. That I feel guilty every time I laugh or smile knowing what has happened this week and what is happening now.
I’m frustrated. Confused. Curious. Skeptical. Apprehensive. Anxious.
I’m glad. Because I know others feel exactly the same way.
We’re all in this together.