When I hear the word anniversary, it conjures the image of an old couple holding each other next to a cake with a big "50” on top. I don’t know why that’s what I think of. I’m not sure I even know anyone who’s been married for 50 years! But anniversaries encompass so much more than weddings. Although I’ve never been, I’m pretty sure dudes dress up in civil war gear to recreate the Battle of Gettysburg on that anniversary. And, on a more somber note, I know someone who weeps every year on the day their son passed away.

Today is a special anniversary for me. It is a day that changed my life forever, but in what way, I still can’t tell you. All I know is that it did.

It was a dark and stormy night. . . oh wait, no it wasn’t. Like most of the days I have lived on this earth, the weather was nothing special and I don’t remember the everyday, mundane things I did leading up to the event. I must have dropped the kids off at daycare, then drove to the elementary school where I worked. I must have taught those sixth graders something that day, but I don’t remember what and I’m sure they don’t either. But then, at exactly 2:46 PM, about ten minutes after school let out, it happened.

9.0 on the Richter scale and lasting over 6 minutes, this one was a doozie! Now, I’ll have you know that I am no earthquake novice. I grew up in San Francisco and, at the risk of “dating” myself, I experienced the Loma Prieta Earthquake of 1989 that flattened freeways and cancelled the World Series. Plus I had already been living in Japan for over two years, and earthquakes were a regular occurrence during that time.

So I didn’t know this was anything special at the onset. When the shaking started, I was standing in the hallway talking to another teacher through the doorway as he stood in his room. A few students lingered, but for the most part, the classrooms were empty. Chairs were perched on tables so that the janitors could sweep the floor. As we began to feel the rumble, each of us braced ourselves. No diving under the tables or standing in the doorway, as I was taught in elementary school. Just a simple bracing of the body.

For those of you who have never been in an earthquake, it’s not just shaking, but more like rumbling. Trying to speak to the other people in the vicinity is pointless, but about a minute in, we all shot each other uneasy glances. About two minutes in, the shaking was so intense that I crouched down on the floor with two students. Doors banged as they swung wildly, debunking that “stand in the doorway, it’s the strongest part of the building” business I learned as a child. Chairs clattered off the tables and windows shattered around us. Six minutes. The amount of time it will probably take you to read this entire blog post. That’s a whole lotta earthquake.

When the rumbling ceased, we slowly rose to our feet and surveyed our surroundings. Everyone in our hallway was uninjured, but certainly “shaken”. Words tumbled in my head, but I couldn’t quite make sense of them. Were my thoughts that jumbled up that they were repeating over and over in my brain? No, it was coming from outside. I strained to hear what was blaring from the loudspeakers.“Tsunami alert, Tsunami alert, evacuate to higher ground.” Uh oh, I thought. Those speakers have never said anything in English. This must be serious.

The students, other teachers, and I cautiously made our way down the stairs and outside. The building seemed to have withstood the earthquake well, but we wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible, just in case. We circumnavigated the building toward the front office. The principal was standing outside the main entrance with a few students and staff. We joined the group. “Are we evacuating?” I asked. “Where is higher ground?”

“Oh don’t worry, we’re already on higher ground,” the principal reassured us. I breathed a sigh of relief, kicking myself for how unprepared I felt. And that’s when the anxiety started to creep in.

I won’t go into a description of the aftermath, the days without power or connection to the outside world, the myriad of aftershocks, the threat of radiation from a damaged nuclear power plant. What I will say is this: It was a period of extreme stress in my life, and every year, around this time, I relive it. Not the actual earthquake itself, but the anxiety that the anniversary brings, the anxiety of a traumatic event that I’ve stuffed way back into my memories.

A therapist once told me that trauma is stored in the body. We may be unaware of it, but it still lives in us until we process it, and maybe even then it doesn’t completely go away. And I haven’t even begun to deal with whatever emotions have come from that yet. I tucked it away like a box in the attic, a box that I refuse to unpack but also refuse to throw away.

Today is a day that will go virtually unnoticed in the United States, though it will be commemorated across Japan. If you get a minute, maybe you can read about the earthquake and lift up the Japanese people in your heart. And just as importantly, think about the anniversaries in your own life. What events have had a major impact on you? Not necessarily turning points like getting married, or having a baby; we already honor those annually in celebrations. No, I’m talking about the experiences, probably largely out of your control, that nonetheless have contributed to the person you are today, both in positive and negative ways. Resilience but also anxiety. Courage but also self-doubt. Perspective is a hell of a thing, and it’s good to have that in our lives. So today, as I celebrate my anniversary, I hope you’ll join me in self-reflection.