Images of tipped-over lawn chairs and books falling from a bookshelf in mid-air are funny, don’t get me wrong. But they trivialize Tuesday’s earthquake with a deft nonchalance that fails to address the fears of those that were in tall buildings, near the epicenter of the quake, or simply the masses unfamiliar with such events of natural devastation.

I, quite frankly, was traumatized by the events that unfolded, as I sat from my cubicle at 2 PM. I remember the exact moment at which the quake hit, and the vivid details that follow. I sat in my cubicle, facing my Mac, typing an update following a kudos from my supervisor. As I sat thinking of something pithy, I suddenly felt a vibration in the floor. A heavy shake that came in sudden waves. I thought to myself, it’s either a disturbingly obese man upstairs taking a tumble and/or an obnoxious dropping of heavy construction equipment [Note: There had been a massive weekend water pipe bursting that resulted in a leak, floor/equipment damage on half my floor, and weeks of repair and construction]. However, the tumbles kept coming in increasing degrees. And suddenly, I realized, it wasn’t just the ceiling above that was shaking, but my entire floor was suddenly shaking with each movement; my machines, cup of coffee and water, and random things at my desk rattled with increasing intensity. That’s when I became incredibly alarmed. Was there a floor collapsing above me? I just couldn’t help but feel helpless by the loud obstruction above me.

I stepped out of my cubicle and to my left is my supervisor, who also stepped out of his, pale, with a look of perplexity and fear. “Did you feel that?” He asked as he concluded, “I think this is an earthquake.” We both hurried into the middle lobby of my floor, as familiar faces of co-workers started to flood out of a conference room, all with the same pale look of confusion and terror. People started to shout out random things – one person calling out random floors (“second”, “third”, “fifth”) and the word “collapsed”. A senior director came rushing out of a hall with the following news: “This is an emergency – everyone head for the exits!” which prompted a stampede of co-workers to run for the exit staircase that seemed located far, far away from where I stood. As I took in my visual scenery, slabs of marble tiles, tinkering glass structures, and lots of glass windows that overlooked metro tracks, tall hotels and business offices that stood around me, I was petrified with terror.

I was going to die like this. At work. With up to six or seven floors above my head collapsing in seconds. The image of the World Trade Center collapsing into a heap of concrete and debris in a matter of seconds replayed in my mind. I had never felt more trapped, more feeble, and oddly, alone.

Not even thinking about grabbing my Blackberry or purse, I ran to the exit staircase in my heels and made my way down the staircase surrounded by hundreds of others – struggling on their way down, clutching purses, laptops, and personal devices. I felt foolish for failing to taking my essentials with me, but all I could feel was the paralyzing panic that coursed through my veins. The fight-or-flight mentality gripped me from feeling any logic – just escape. I walked down with a new hire, and we both nervously chattered. After what seemed like the most panic-driven run down a staircase, we finally made our way through to a ground emergency exit. Feelings of relief poured over me as I saw a deluge of sunlight flood in through the doors, before the anticipation of a seemingly stricken building collapsing on my head. As we made our entry into the sunlight, I saw multitudes of people pouring out of neighboring buildings – proof that it wasn’t just our new sixteen-floor building suffering from construction mistakes.

People began calling their loved ones – black women in business-casual attire expressed the most earnest of fears (“What the hell was that?!”), which I found refreshing and mirrored my very own fears. Some were crying. Regretting not bringing anything with me, I huddled with my closest co-workers and supervisor, as we nervously discussed the occurrences. One of my friends in IT, an encyclopedic cricket champion and self-proclaimed Man of the World, entered our circle and began to fill our minds up with more fear, as he poured out his knowledge of P, T, and S seismic waves, and how buildings on the east coast weren’t built or fortified for earthquakes as they are on the west coast – built on springs that allow them to move in the motion of quakes. If there was a crack in our building structure, eventually the crack would affect all adjoining walls, which would result in an immediate collapse. After getting building clearance, I fearfully took the elevator back up to my floor, grabbed my essentials (oh, and keys, who can forget that), and took the elevator back down to the adjoining parking garage to my dear car. I had never felt so much relief as I sped out of there.

I had never feared for my life the way I did the moment my desk was shaking uncontrollably. It became crystal clear in the immediate minutes after the quake, who I cared about the most during this unwarned natural disaster. Getting on the highway, the realness of the event shocked me, as I gripped my steering wheel with my shaking hands. I tried to call my sister, repeatedly, knowing she was probably trying to reach me the most. Even throughout the week, coming into work plagued me with doubt and anxiety. Every thump on the ground, shake, vibration, or swaying got me fearing the worst (“…The crack in our building is growing”).

The truth is, I don’t want to live my life in fear, as if it hangs on a quivering balance that can tip over at any time. I don’t want to live being paranoid. At the same time, I realize there’s so much I haven’t accomplished – pursuing further passions, hobbies, goals, life ambitions. It scares me that life is so fragile and out of our control – at the mercy of impending (and unwarned) natural disasters and freak accidents. At the same time, people spend their lives building a fortune, a hill of excess and accomplishments – chasing fleeting, worthless, selfish desires and needs, only to have them wiped out in a single moment. The only motto that we can really live by is: live to the fullest, love to the fullest, forgive to the fullest, trust God fully and completely, live for God, but cut your attachments to the world, because it may end tomorrow.