This is My Last Blog Post...

...About my Accident

Friday was the last day of school for my two younger kids and it was a typical, frantic morning. Actually, more so than usual because we had the flurry of teacher gifts, after school clothes/money/things needed since the kids were celebrating the end of their imprisonment with friends.  We had a few minor mishaps like eyeshadow falling and breaking all over the kitchen floor (don't even ask why makeup was in the kitchen), a bag with a hole in it; the list goes on.

I wasn't in a great mood; half yelling at the kids to get moving, irritated that I didn't have time to get to the Facebook "kids' last day of school" photo in front of the house, wishing I had more time to be by myself on my last true day of freedom.

Then, as I was driving hastily to school, I was reminded of something I've been thinking about religiously for weeks but that for some reason had escaped my mind that morning.  "This is the spot one year ago where I had my accident."

The accident that left me broken but better, slowed down (temporarily) but not stopped, dependent but not helpless.

"I am an ass."

This is what I thought at that moment.

I am worried about this and that; gifts and bags; to do lists and places to go.  I am however, not thinking about what I should be thinking about.  I am alive.  One year ago, I could not walk. Today, I am running miles.

And so here it is.  I've thought for weeks about writing this post; a blog about the anniversary of my accident, but didn't really know what I was going to say. Thanks? I'm better? What I've learned?  Then, as it so often happens, life knocked on my mind's window and gave me my topic:

How to not let go of my accident.

It's an ironic statement. Why would I not want to let go of something so horrible? Why wouldn't the past be the best place for my accident to live?

Just like the break up with your first love, you almost don't want the pain to end. The pain makes the love real. The only reason you are hurting so much is because you loved so much.  That's how I feel about my accident.

I don't want to let it go. 

Once I got my kids to school, I came home and read through all the blogs I wrote last summer.  Blogs about who I wanted to become, what I would be and how my life would be different because of my  temporary confinement to the couch.  I meant every word of it.  And, then just like the break from your first love, the pain lessens, you move on, you convince yourself it wasn't that bad and you return to yourself.

But I don't want to return to myself.  I don't want to be Deb pre-May 30, 2014.  In that period of weeks as I was recovering, I found a grittier version of myself. I found someone who wasn't as afraid as she thought; someone who could smile through trial and who could forgive without even being apologized to. I loved more and slowed down. I found someone I liked better.

And then, more and more, as days turned to months and those months turned into one year, I've lost her.  Not entirely; not completely. But a little bit.  When I am impatient and yelling at people I love and pushing through moments like they don't matter and wishing things were other than they are, I've lost her.

I had many people reach out to me over the past week about the one year anniversary, and I even marked the date with a small gathering of close friends. I talked for a bit about what all of them did for me and it was a wonderful night. But, after I was alone, and in the honest darkness of night with myself, I thought the words I don't have the courage to say.

I am afraid.  I'm afraid I can't hold on to how I changed. I'm afraid I'm just the same old person I was before my crash. I'm scared that the spark that lit up a part of me is slowly going out. Even though I'm walking fine, I am more unsteady than ever.

What if the change was just a phase, which means it really wasn't change at all? What if I'm the same? And what if all the good people did for me was for nothing? What if I'm a fraud? What if the words of support and affirmation from those who love me make me want to cry because I secretly feel like I haven't done much?

This is how I feel one year from my accident; on sea legs trying to find footing on solid ground.

And the worst part is that I can't explain why. I can't explain why I'm restless with what I have yet to accomplish despite the fact that I've accomplished a lot. I don't know why I am not as proud of myself as those around me are. I don't know why.

And so I rush through days, push out the thoughts and smile when people tell me how great I'm doing. But that is no way to live. I know this.

I know that holding onto the past, in any situation, keeps us from the future.  I need to let it go.  I need to put it firmly behind me with the conviction that the best is yet to come. Because despite what I am unsure of right now, I do know that the best is always yet to come.  So, this marks my last blog about my accident. It's been a meaningful year for me to share my emotions with you and your attention has been a gift. But, starting now, I'm forging ahead in a new direction.

I hope you'll continue to spend some time with me.