You Guys. I’m giving myself 4.5 minutes to write tonight. Why the inspiration strikes at the most inopportune times, I’ll never know. I was supposed to be in bed THIRTY minutes ago (per my new, ridiculous schedule I’m putting myself on and so obviously adhering to it. I swear I’m worse than a toddler.)
Tonight was an odd one. All the feels got me. I was watching a video of a doctor talking about healing migraines…he was going through a list of symptoms and dry eyes was one of them. Gosh, I forgot about my poor dry eyes after the accident until he mentioned it in the video. I legit could hardly fight back the tears…OVER DRY EYES!
Later on, I finally made some banana bread I had been itching to make for a week now. As I was stirring the flour in by hand, it made me think about not long after my accident and the first time I tried baking something. And it was a horrible experience. The physical movement/repetition, following/keeping my place in a recipe and having to cognitively process measurements and the order in which they needed to be put in would wreck me for dayyyys. So naturally, I’ve shied away from most things cooking/baking related the last four years.
But now that I’m in South Dakota, on my own, it’s given me the opportunity to be more proactive in the kitchen. I won’t lie, most nights I don’t feel like cooking, but I think I’m doing fairly well (I only had Ramen Noodles once this week, shhhh).
As I find my new routine, it certainly has caused me to reminisce of all the things I couldn’t do not so long ago and makes me feel, oh, so grateful…while also feeling tearful and melancholy, remembering the days that I couldn’t (talk about confused emotions). And that after the accident how heartbreaking it was every time I learned of just one more thing I could no longer do. I’m not kidding either…Every. Single. Time. My heart would break all over.
Because it wasn’t just this new inherent “knowing” of how my life changed post-accident. More of a daily discovering of things I couldn’t do anymore as I went to go do them and realized, wait, I can’t.
Gosh, I’m tearing up AGAIN. It is possible that it’s just me and not everyone is as sensitive about this stuff as I am…but I’m willing to bet that if you’ve gone through an injury like mine, (which I know so many of you have) you 100% get it.
I honestly don’t know what to write next because all my feelings are a jumbled mess of sadness/joy, regret/gratefulness, pain/peace, happiness/tears falling down my cheeks.
I do know one thing: This mess I now call my life -- the simultaneous polar opposite of emotions, the physical pain, the heaviness of regret, the missed opportunities, the sadness that haunts me four years later, the fear that still wakes me up in the middle of the night in absolute panic, the hope on my bad days that keeps me going, the moments of pure gratefulness, the turmoil, doubt, and sometimes peace. It makes me ponder often on the whimsical thought of ‘if I could change the past, would I?’
I assure you, every time I “ponder” it, that question puts me in a very odd place. I would give anything to be back to normal, you know this. But truth be told, despite my desire to be normal again, the only possible way is to fix myself and continue to move towards healing. Because, as strange as it may sound, I could never go back and change the past. Yes, that terrible accident gave me this big ‘ole mess…but as it turns out, from where I’m sitting, this “mess” is quite beautiful.
From one tired brain to another, find the beauty. If you can’t change the situation, change your perspective…as many times as you need…and eventually, your mess that was splattered onto the canvass we call “life” will be beautiful too.
- L
P.s. Update on the banana bread. I got distracted writing this, and my sneaky sneak dog, in stealth mode, slunk out to the kitchen. Upon disobediently placing her paws on the counter, much to her delight, she saw my tasty morsels cooling, in all their golden glory. In a moment of pure weakness, and lapse in good judgement, she partook.
I was tipped off when she heard a car door shut and she started barking…mid-gulp. I kid you not, the bark sounded muffled, haha! I heard it and was like what? It sounded like she had her head in a bucket of water. I caught her trying to swallow half the loaf in one giant gulp. By the way, Is there even the Heimlich for a dog? And if there is, I don’t know how to do it. That’s risky business, pal. She’s lucky she didn’t choke on my watch, haha.
