By Julie Lovenberg, MSW

Victim Advocate, Vera House

Trauma has a lot to do with our perception of the situation we’re in. That’s why multiple people can go through the same traumatic event and all come out of it having been affected in different ways and to different degrees. Our personal perception of how “in danger” we are, or are not, helps to paint the picture our brains see of the event. Regardless of what is actually happening, when all the signs point to terror, you feel terror.

As a person with a master’s in social work and advocate for victims of domestic and sexual violence, I know a lot about trauma and how the brain responds to traumatic events. But knowledge about trauma doesn’t make anyone immune to experiencing trauma.

While doing a little Black Friday shopping at Destiny USA, I suddenly found myself experiencing an event that I would consider one of my absolute biggest fears: a mass shooting.

There I was, sniffing candles at Yankee Candle, when suddenly I hear, “pop, pop … pop.”

My head darted up as my brain was quickly processing the sound of gunfire. Droves of people in the halls began screaming and running away from the sound, terror on their faces. An employee in Yankee calmly said, “We should probably lock the doors.”

“Yes, lock the doors!” I responded loudly.

We were then ushered into the back storeroom and for the next 20 minutes, we stood back there, hearts pounding, trying to figure out what was happening. At that time, it was considered an active shooter situation. Some people continued looking out the storeroom door, watching for danger. Some people started searching online and making phone calls. I texted my cousin, who works locally in the medical field.

“Are you hearing anything about shots fired at Destiny? We’re in the back of Yankee Candle,” I texted her.

Within seconds she responded.

“Yeah. Evacuate. Get out now.”

Her response instantly increased my fear tenfold. I knew I was stuck in there. I could not get out. I felt like a sitting duck.

The nightmare continued. The evacuation made me feel exposed as the gunman had not been located. The parking lot was full of officers with large guns, people everywhere, horns blaring, news cameras, a helicopter circling overhead, and complete gridlock for what seemed like forever.

Sitting in my car I wondered, “Is the threat over?” I still didn’t feel safe.

Like a lot of people, I spent a good amount of time that night and the following morning reading news reports about the event. As more details were released indicating that it was an “isolated event” and an “altercation between two acquaintances,” I found myself feeling relieved that it wasn’t a bigger, violent event with more casualties.

But other feelings started to surface too. I felt stupid for having been so terrified. Silly for fearing for my life when my life had never been in danger.  And I continued to berate myself through the weekend every time I realized I had been zoning out, replaying the sound of gunfire and images of terrified people running.

“Stop it,” I told myself. “It was nothing.”

But it was something. As it happened, my brain took all the things I was hearing and seeing and combined them with all the things we have come to know in our country. Mass shootings happen. When it all began that night, it did not occur to me that it could be just an altercation between two people. I was thinking, “Of course a mass shooting would be happening at a crowded mall on Black Friday,” because that is what we’ve come to expect. Like I said above, when all the signs point to terror, you feel terror — period.

If you or someone you know went through this event, or something similar, just know that it’s okay to not feel okay. Even though the reality of the situation may not have been as terrible as it could have been, it was terrifying to go through. That kind of situation sticks with you. So hug your loved ones and find someone to talk to if you need to.

Vera House serves all victims of crime and our 24-hour support line is for victims and survivors of trauma. Call us at 315-468-3260.

Julie Lovenberg is a victim advocate for Vera House, Inc.