On the way back from work yesterday, I had one of my best friends and my uncle text at about the same time that Charlie Kirk had been shot. I mostly laughed it off, joking about what the manifesto is going to look like. Shortly thereafter, I learned he had died. I got home quite late after being out with friends and finally watched the video where it was clear he had no chance of survival. I knew of Charlie Kirk but didn't even watch him.
Jumping to another feed, I saw a different video, this time of Iryna Zarutska, a blonde white woman having her throat slit on a subway by a career criminal. I saw the extended version that showed the first person who came to her aid. The point being made there was that no one did anything until long after the murderer had left the train. Iryna had no one come to her aid to help or comfort her as she died. She was left to bleed out, slumped onto the floor of a Charlotte train — alone.
Going back to read Charlie Kirk's final few tweets, it was shocking to see that these two gory videos were connected. Charlie had been working to break this story which had been buried. He had revealed systemic corruption as to why the murderer was free and roaming the city.
Many people have used these as rallying calls for tit-for-tat violence. I'm here to make a different point. Seeing the violence and death shown in these videos made me feel spiritually ill—and to a lesser extent, physically ill as well. I sent an email to a political commentator saying "I'm going to have a fun time sleeping tonight."
As just mentioned, I was gripped by an intense unease after seeing these videos. Consuming all this information in the evening an hour before bed gave me an emotion I hadn't felt in a long time. It was based in fear, disbelief, anger, and more. Seeing that violence—even digitally—certainly triggers the fight or flight response. Because of this I was somewhat afraid to go to bed, and was genuinely fearful of the possibility of a nightmare.
The only other time I have experienced something like this was when I was recovering from a septic infection and my Dad and I watched the movie Maze Runner: The Scorch Trials. In it, the protagonists enter an abandoned building and turn on the generator, waking all the zombified people who come to attack them. I knew it was coming from a mile away but it still scared the shit out of me. I blame this now on being in a hospital, at night, on meds; but the physical response I had was still so real.
The violence of the world stole my peace. I felt like I wouldn't be able to sleep. When this happened the last time my Father put on a recording of the rosary to help to calm me. It worked then. Thankfully I was aware of those same feelings this time, and turned to prayer again this time.
What I did was have one hand on my rosary beads, praying them continually until I eventually fell asleep.
My prayer for comfort was answered and I did sleep soundly through the night. I think it's important to note that I didn't wake up neutered or neuralyzed, but comforted. I didn't feel that my reaction to this was stripped or that God had come in to dull my emotions. Instead, I felt more like I had been carried through this fearful moment. This comfort gave me the strength to face today with faith instead of fear.
During your times of trial and
suffering, when you see only one set of footprints,
it was then that I Carried You.
Compare how the last time this happened to me—roughly in 2017—I had reasonable excuses. Having this same visceral reaction—while not on meds—shows the depth of the impact of this event. When I get drafted to fight in the war that's brewing, the most important weapon I will be bringing onto the battlefield is my faith.