The things we choose to put on our calendars year after year have some kind of significance to us, calendar dates – birthdays, anniversaries, holidays and other significant events. Today is one of those significant days for me. August 28, 2017 is the date of THE ACCIDENT. Last year on this date, I started this blog. Had I known how dark the coming year would be I may not have done so. Starting this blog was my way of saying that THE ACCIDENT had changed me, but had not defeated me. Writing about my experiences has also been a way for me to find hope and also share hope with others.
Year One had been all about healing, getting better, getting back to something that would resemble my pre-accident life. Last year at this time I still believed those things were possible. I knew my life would be different due to lasting effects of THE ACCIDENT, but I was still holding onto a lot of hope. I envisioned a life where I would return to work (part-time, not full-time; one job, not five), be able to go to church, socialize with friends, attend family functions, etc. A year ago, I still believed all of that was possible.
Year Two was not about a continued progression of healing. Year Two has been about disappointment, profound, shattering, unspeakable disappointment and the grief which accompanies it. The life I envisioned for myself a year ago will never be. No amount of wishing or will-power can make it so. I can almost write that without choking on the sorrow caught in my throat. I know that faith and time will buffer the pain. I am not giving up. I am simply searching for a new perspective.
Grief comes in all sorts of shapes and sizes. Each loss elicits a different reaction from the losses before and after. I have spent the majority of the last year mourning my future and mourning the pre-accident Stephanie. It is difficult to move forward if you are continually trying to live a life that no longer exists. If you ask how I am, my answer is OK. I have given up trying to explain the horrible, never-ending headaches, overwhelming exhaustion and painful sensitivity to noise, light and other stimuli. I am trying not to react with anger and bitterness at being told that I look fine. I have come to the conclusion that “but you look fine” is actually code for “I don’t believe there is anything wrong with you”. I am trying to lower my expectations for supportive people in my life. I am hoping that might ease the pain of feeling so alone. It won’t, but there are worse delusions. The reality is that many of the people I care about have voluntarily left my life.
If I am honest, I am a little terrified of what Year Three will bring. But being terrified only creates unnecessary anxiety and frustration. It is MY life and although there are MANY things that I cannot control, there are some things that I am still able to choose. I am choosing a positive perspective. No matter who leaves or fades to the background in my life, God is right by my side. Whatever challenges present themselves; I have the knowledge that I have fought tremendous battles already and I am still standing. Most importantly, although I have my moments of doubt and fear and questioning, I am still grateful for all of the gifts in my life. As I begin Year Three, I am looking forward to seeing what happens as I give gratitude a more prominent role in my life.
So, as I recognize the second anniversary of THE ACCIDENT, I am shifting my perspective from a future that could have been but is no more, to a life more focused on God’s grace and gratitude. There will continue to be struggles and sadness. Yet something deep within my soul tells me that there will also be wisdom and wonder and welcome surprises.
#Perception, #LifeLessons, #Choices, #Consequences, #Challenges, #Hope, #SenseOfHope, #TBI, #Resilience, #Anniversary, #Gratitude, #God, #Empathy, #Relationships
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