Trauma?

I haven't been sleeping lately. I've been plagued with dreams of recent and not so recent events. Namely 9/11. Ten years this September. Ten. Years. I cannot believe it. I can tell you exactly where I was, exactly what was said. Everything about that day is like an oil painting. I can see it all, hear it all, but it's blurry. I was in health class. 7th grade. Ms Wright came waddling in (she was enormous) and said, "The World Trade Center has just been bombed." Being 13 at the time, none of us knew how to react. We watched it the rest of the day. We saw the second plane hit, we saw the people jumping. Jumping, because a quick end would have been better than whatever horrific fate awaited them inside the burning, melting, hellish towers. We watched the towers collapse. The 110-story Twin Towers came down. The dust was all over. Friends were pulled from school that day. I stayed, and when I got home couldn't stop watching. My relationship with emergency services began around this time. I was a Police Explorer for a local PD. Seeing FDNY, NYPD and PAPD running INTO the cloud was overwhelming. I remember wanting to go and help, to do anything really, but I couldn't. I was only 13 and felt so small and helpless. Over the days and months we watched the city work on recovering. The Yankees had a hell of a run, that was a nice way to forget, if only for 9 innings. But it will have been ten years since then, and now I'm where I want to be. I'm an EMT and a firefighter, and am completely capable to help in any capacity. I'm still terrified though. Maybe I need a shrink.