"Okay, what if we saw off both of your arms, slip the vest over your head, than go to the hospital, they'll re-attach your arms."

People ask me how I am, as I lean in to hug them. “How are you doing?” It’s a universal question; you ask family, friends, strangers. I reply with “fine” “decent” or “all right” with the occasional “good” or “shitty” thrown in depending on who I’m talking to or how I feel right then. Sometimes this is the way I feel. But really I’d like to answer “devastated”. I feel fucking devastated. dev•as•tate verb \ˈde-və-ˌstāt\ dev•as•tat•eddev•as•tat•ing Definition of DEVASTATE transitive verb 1: to bring to ruin or desolation by violent action 2: to reduce to chaos, disorder, or helplessness : OVERWHELM — dev•as•tat•ing•ly \-ˌstā-tiŋ-lē\ adverb — dev•as•ta•tion \ˌde-və-ˈstā-shən\ noun — dev•as•tat•ive \ˈde-və-ˌstā-tiv\ adjective — dev•as•ta•tor \-ˌstā-tər\ noun See devastate defined for English-language learners » See devastate defined for kids » Examples of DEVASTATE 1. The flood devastated the town. 2. The disease has devastated the area's oak tree population. 3. The hurricane left the island completely devastated. Origin of DEVASTATE Latin devastatus, past participle of devastare, from de- + vastare to lay waste — more at WASTE First Known Use: 1638 Related to DEVASTATE Synonyms: DESTROY, RAVAGE, RUIN, SCOURGE Antonyms: BUILD, CONSTRUCT, ERECT, PUT UP, RAISE, REAR, SET UP Related Words: DESPOIL, FORAY, HARRY, LOOT, MARAUD, PILLAGE, PLUNDER, SACK, STRIP; ANNIHILATE, DESOLATE, ERADICATE, EXPUNGE, EXTINGUISH, EXTIRPATE, NUKE, OBLITERATE, RUB OUT, SHATTER, SMASH, TOTAL, VAPORIZE, WASTE, WIPE OUT, WRACK, WRECK; DECIMATE, MOW; DEMOLISH, RAZE; CRUSH, OVERPOWER, OVERRUN, OVERTHROW, OVERWHELM Near Antonyms: RECONDITION, RECOVER, REDEEM, REHABILITATE, RESTORE; FIX, MEND, PATCH, REPAIR, REVAMP Here is what I picture in my head when I think that word; You push up the wooden door above your head, shaking off the branches and debris in order to open it. You emerge and look around in shock. You know this was once your neighborhood, you just came out of your basement, but there isn’t one landmark you recognize, one thing that your eyes settle on that lets you know this is where you’ve been living for however many years. The weight of what is about to be your new life settles on your shoulders and chest. Maybe it will have an eventual happy outcome; you’ll be able to rebuild your house into exactly what you want. Perhaps the contractors and plumbers will be happy just to have the work and will give you excellent prices and do their best. The insurance covering everything. You and your neighbors all pull together and form a community, leaning on each other for support. You rebuild. Or maybe not. Maybe contractors get greedy, and dishonest, everything goes to shit, you can’t find your dog, your neighbors can’t afford to rebuild and looting runs rampant. Nothing is safe, the weather, humanity, you feel like you’re drowning. Even if it’s somewhere in the middle, as you first see what has happened to all that you know you are engulfed by the devastation, it fills you to the brim until the tears overflow because there just isn’t room inside yourself. Whatever happens will remain unknown to you right now. This is how I feel. But sometimes the bastard in my head tries to take over and tells me I know nothing about devastation, I do not deserve this title, I’m not allowed to use it with the roof over my head my husband and FiL built with their own hands, my stocked kitchen and friends and family who come over to eat and be merry with us in it. Devastation has never touched me. One person cannot be the definition of devastation, the same word used to describe what has happened to towns, cities, countries, depending on the tragedy. Tragedies, millions of lives. And then I turn on the vacuum in aforementioned kitchen because it’s carpeted right now, but someday I’ll have cork flooring and an island, and a shower in my master bathroom, but for now I don't so I have to vacuum often, so I turn it on and I immediately cry. I have no idea why, but I can’t vacuum right now without crying. Every time, it happens. So I tell the stupid voice in my head to fuck off, I’m devastated. I’m not the woman whose baby died in her arms for lack of clean fucking water that we all take for granted. I’m not the small child being beaten to a pulp by the people who are most supposed to care for her, I’m not the man incapable of working because of injuries he acquired while on the job, so his family suffers. But I’m fucking devastated. That is what I feel. And I’m just going to have to allow for that right now. Therapy tomorrow ya'll. Woot woot.