It has been a very long time since I have posted. It has been a long time since I have felt like myself. In the instant I was hit by the SUV and sent flying high into the air, I recall feeling ripped away from my Self.
My second day in the hospital, an occupational therapist came in and told me that he was going to get me onto a portable toilet. I was told him he was crazy, because I could hardly lift my legs. I struggled for what seemed like hours, but was actually twenty minutes, to sit up, turn my legs so they were dangling off the bed, and half-stand the best I could before sitting on the commode. A sudden rush of sweat washed over me, and I felt nauseous. I looked up through bleary, tear-filled eyes and said, “Now this is a real Quarter-Century Life Crisis.” I had just turned 25, and I felt like I was 98.
The majority of my days have been spent doing little more than healing. That is all I have had the energy to do. For nearly two months I felt numb from pain and medication designed to keep my muscles relaxed and allow my body to knit back together. I felt far away from the world, yet I had a deep yearning to connect and absorb my predicament. It was daunting.
Now, I feel that I am coming to grips with what happened. Some days are better than others. I am an artist. A creator. I have felt so overwhelmed by my life, and my physical pain, that I was not able to take to the stage as I would normally to express my emotions. So, I wrote. I wrote and wrote, and it was beautiful. I felt like a swollen raincloud that out of necessity, finally lets go of its moisture, and finds relief. I needed to express, but my mind was not clear enough to form cohesive pieces, so I didn’t feel ready to post here.
I have made today a special day: I happened upon the same bottle of Bordeaux that I drank from the local cheese shop steps away from my small Parisian appartemente, in a local grocery. So, I am channeling my discipline from Paris, and writing nightly with a glass of Bordeaux. It is the perfect challenge to help me reconnect with the world.
It has been months since something has lit a spark in my chest. The first month after reaching the Quarter-Century mark was nothing short of phenomenal. A true gift in many ways. Some gifts I could not even fully appreciate until now, looking back at what has gotten me through my struggles since the accident. In Paris, I was a self-reliant, balanced, fit, achieving, kind person who fell in love with culture, and rediscovered the beauty in the difference between being alone, not lonely. I was on top of the world before my accident, and after, at times, I was overwhelmed by a melancholic darkness that assured me I would never feel that way again. Sometimes, though, I could glimpse a shaft of light cutting through the darkness, promising that I would one day reconnect with the light and beauty of the world.
I often felt like Peter Pan searching for his shadow-the part that has been severed and made him incomplete. I felt not whole. As I gain physical strength, I gain mental and emotional strength, and I am reminding myself to keep my eyes open. To look for the good, and be open to the positive.
As I was writing this post, a travel opportunity came to me: I am going to San Francisco! I ignited the fire, and the travels will continue here on Quarter-Centenarian ABROAD!
Stay tuned.
Quarter-Centenarian Abroad 