It’s 4 minutes from midnight. I’ve spent all day trying to ignore the pain. Trying to ignore the anxiety. Trying to ignore the fear that I can’t do it. Maybe you’re up tonight trying to get through the same thing. Maybe you’re scared or hurting or confused or heartbroken or sad or maybe you’re all of those things at once. Most days I’m some of those things. Tonight I’m all of those things.
I don’t know why but writing this feels right. Maybe it’s because I’d rather communicate through a portal rather than to a person. My parents and boyfriend have heard their fair share of my pathetic devastation. You probably have as well. If you have, stop here and don’t come back. But if you’re in need of some release or perspective, stay.
Are you a planner like me? Have you mapped out your entire life? Have you set timelines of “accomplishments” you’ve worked your butt off to achieve? I have. And I hate to be the one to tell you, but none of it matters so you should probably put your life check-list away. None of the all-nighters in architecture school or worrying over which internship you’ll end up getting or what grad school to attend matters. None of it matters because your world can be flipped upside down within a matter of seconds.
With all of the devastation in the world, I hate that I can’t be stronger. I hate myself for failing and falling apart. What right do I have??? I’m alive and I have all of my body parts – whether they work well or not. What right do I have to feel miserable? What right do I have to be scared? I’m a Christian. I’m not “supposed” to be afraid of what may come. But the human part of me is terrified. I’ve planned out everything for myself. I’ve spent so much of myself to get there. And now, what if I can’t? What if I can’t get there???
It’s just hard because it’s all of my body and sometimes all at once. Nerves, muscles, strains and sprains, tissues, joints, cartilage, cervical, spinal chord, blah blah blah. I hate having to explain what’s wrong because it’s too much to explain. Nothing feels right. And how much of this will actually go away? Will it go away?
I thought I could try to get back to “normal”. But I can’t. I tried getting back into graduate school. I promise I’m trying so hard. But it’s not working. It’s done me no good. I take that back…it’s made me realize that I can’t do it. My physical therapist says I’m bombarded and I’ve lost whatever energy and strength we’ve built up over the past several months. He pointed out my dark eyes. He doesn’t realize that it’s not only school depriving me of rest and recovery. It’s those damn nightmares. If it’s not excruciating pain waking me up, it’s a nightmare. Of death, cheating, accidents, murders, drownings, and whatever dark thing my mind can make up. Sometimes I think I’m crazy. Don’t worry, I’m seeing a psychotherapist. She also thinks I’m dealing with too much. That I need to focus on myself and healing. How can I do that?? How can I focus on myssself when I feel like I’m disappointing everyone who cares about me? When I’m constantly disappointing myself. That if I’m not happy enough, I won’t heal as quickly. How happy would you be if your strength, abilities, independence, and life purpose has been halted for only God knows how long? I keep being reminded – you’re young, you’ll heal, you’ll get back to normal – but I don’t believe that anymore. Maybe that’s what I need to do…to not hold on to the hope that I’ll get it all back. Because what if I don’t? What if I can’t? At least I can mentally prepare for it…to learn to let it go before I get my hopes back up.
I thought I was getting back to it. Then I started school again. I used to build and lift concrete models. I’ve built wooden couches. I’ve painted several houses. I’ve driven from Detroit to Gatlinburg. I’ve helped move furniture from home to home. I wasn’t a body builder but I did everything I wanted to. I was able to do it alone. To do it on my own. And now…I can’t even create a paper model. Even upon NOT completing my task, I spend days on end in such extreme pain. What’s the point?? That’s what I keep asking myself. Why am I torturing myself? To prove some stupid point that I can do this??? I can’t. Not now at least.
In about two months, it will be one year from the day that I was hit. Maybe I’ll read this and laugh at how desperate I was on October 5th. Or maybe I’ll read it and feel the same way. I don’t know. I’m trying so hard. I promise I am. But sometimes, I can’t do it.