I'm sure many of my blog readers have been wondering why I haven't posted any new blogs in over a month. It is because I was busy focusing my energy of finishing my autobiography. It is a project I started shortly after my accident, but kept hitting mental roadblocks and perpetually procrastinated on getting it done.
One of the biggest obstacles was my physical limitations and not being patient enough to work with dictation software. When I still lived at Cheshire I was limited to pecking away on my keyboard with my mouth-stick. I was a lighting fast typer when I could use my hands (never had to look at the keys) and can type surprising fast with my mouth-stick. The task just became tedious. A couple of the other residents highly recommended I buy the dictation software, "Dragon Naturally Speaking" and many of them used it regularly. I felt foolish speaking to the computer, and hated the fact I never had privacy and would have inevitably be overheard by roommates. At that point I decided against wasting the money, and kept on pecking away at the project.
For whatever reason, I only ever seemed to get the first thirty or so pages written. I kept hitting mental roadblocks whenever I tried recalling my time at Kessler. Honestly, I think I was so stressed out by the immediate issues, of being sleep deprived, stuck in a nursing home and dealing with the high stress level of each day, that I couldn't delve into the haunting memories and difficult experiences of my stay at Kessler. If anything, I wanted to run far away from those memories and much preferred to escape my miserable reality, through reading books, watching anime, spending time with friends and vegging out on video games.
After a while, I just stopped trying. I put the project on the back burner and focused my writing on current, day to day things. I used my MySpace blog as an outlet to vent my daily frustrations and every day struggles. When things became unbearable, and I hit my breaking point I switched gears and focused all my time and energy on getting myself out of Cheshire and into my own place. It took six long months of relentless researching, planning, pleading and begging, but I did it.
Once I was home I tried a few times to pick the book project up again, but would constantly spend all my time re-reading and re-editing; never making progress. I started focusing a lot of energy into painting, instead of writing and worked hard to build up a body of work worth exhibiting. I wrote about my artwork, as the book started to collect virtual dust, again. I was limited to the time I was able to be up in my chair, so I had to prioritize how best to spend that time, since it was when I could be most productive. I made the choice to paint and remained focused on that.
The book was always lingering in the back of mind. It bothered me, having it unresolved and unfinished. It wasn't like me to give up on anything I started. I caved in and bought the Dragon dictation software, hoping I could use it to be productive during my time in bed. I figured instead of playing my Nintendo DS, reading, or watching TV, I could begin putting my thoughts down and use my evening hours to write. I still felt silly speaking to the computer, but felt a little better knowing at least I had privacy. The software was glitchy and I didn't have the patience to do the training exercises. It ended up being more irksome than handy, and yet again I abandoned the project.
This past April my ex-boyfriend Jimmy resurfaced into my life. He knew I was struggling, and was at my wits end, with everything. He wanted to know how he could help me. I instantly knew that THIS was my opportunity to dust off my book file, and tackle the project once and for all. He was happy with the idea and we decided to begin working on it right away. I just knew that having HIM help me, would give me the accountability of meeting deadlines and the fact that it was OUR project gave me the focus and motivation I needed. I felt like deep inside there was so much I wanted to say, so much I wanted to share. I believed my story has the potential to help others and I felt like it would give Jimmy and I some much needed closure and mutual understanding. Although he'd remained in and out of my life over the last six years, there was a lot of things he missed out on. Out of all the people in my life, it was important to me that he understands my WHOLE experience with paralysis; from start to finish. I wanted him to understand my suffering and hope that having completed the project together it will put everything into perspective for him, and for us.
At first it was really challenging, just laying out the structure for the book and putting together a game plan. It had been so long since I had really thought about the dark days of Kessler and my time at Cheshire. I knew writing the book would open up a lot of old scars, but I felt ready and able to handle it. Luckily, for a large majority of my time post accident, I have kept blogs, or journals. I was grateful to have those entries to use as a reference, to try and create outlines of what I wanted to say in each chapter, and to put everything in chronological order, and to attempt to maintain a coherent flow, without too much repetition. If my memories were fuzzy, or I had gaps in my records I turned to family and friends to double check my facts, and to piece it all together.
Jimmy would come down to NJ (from PA) about once a week, or every other week and he would help me type huge chunks of chapters. I tried my best to write a little every day. Having my iPad was a tremendous help. As my health had declined, further and further my time sitting up has progressively decreased. Thankfully, I can write on my iPad laying flat in bed. It allowed me to keep up a fast momentum. Every so often, throughout the day or night I would write a few paragraphs. I tried to save the emotional parts about my relationship as my own personal project and forced myself to get those parts finished, between our visits.
The first third of the book was emotionally the hardest, but having Jimmy's support helped me stay focused and kept me on task. The last third of the book was the easiest part to write, because it focuses on the most current events in my life and my present day thoughts, opinions and struggles. I ended up writing middle portion of the book last, since I had the least amount of reference material to go off of. It took me a while, to interview friends and family and get the outlines finished. Once the outlines were completed, I just worked on checking off each topic from each list, until it was finished.
That said, from start to finish, it took me the past four and a half months of intensive writing to get the entire story down on paper. It's twenty one chapters long and over 250 pages. It was a monumental task, but I did it. I couldn't have done it without Jimmy and am eternally grateful for his assistance, in helping me realize my goal. The hardest part is over. I've said everything I want to say, and truly believe that he and I were meant to do this project together. For so long, we've both struggled over trying to make sense over why we met, and had such a wonderful, loving relationship, only to see our dreams get shattered and torn apart. This is not the life either of us wanted, or planned, but this book is something that we were able to turn our pain and tragedy into something good, and helpful; that hopefully will benefit others and inspire people to support research and change their perspectives on life and death. It will be our legacy and something that can continue to help, and inspire others to enact change, even once we're long gone. That feels good.
Right now I've been working with a couple of editors and trying to determine how much it will cost to get the book professionally edited. I've gotten some great feedback, but it's going to take a substantial (between $2,000-5,000) amount of money to get the job done right. I'm waiting to hear back from lawyer, to see if this is something I can use my trust for. We shall see. Honestly, I think it should be permissible, because it's definitely an expense that will go towards improving the quality of my life and hopefully that of many others. Once I get the editing logistics/fees ironed out and the book is edited and ready for publication, I plan to use lulu.com to covert the book into e-book (aka paperless) format. Once it's published it will be available to purchase through Apple's iBook app (on iPad), through Barnes and Noble's Nook and Nook Color and hopefully through Amazon's Kindle.
I'm super stressed, waiting to hear back from both editors with quotes and timelines. I'm even more stressed at how much it might cost me. I'm anxiously awaiting my lawyers input (and hopefully his approval). As soon as I have those answers, I'll know what is the best way to proceed. Either way, I have faith it WILL get published soon (within the next few months at the latest). I'm thrilled about it and can't wait to share my story (my WHOLE story) with the world. I look forward to hearing reader feedback! I'll keep everyone up to date on the progress and definitely inform you all once it's actually for sale. I'm so close, and very proud of myself. I hope readers will enjoy it, and that it will open some hearts and minds.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Showing posts with label memories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label memories. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Monday, June 6, 2011
Life Is Unpredictable & Full Of Irony
Today marked the six year "anniversary" of my accident. It's certainly not an anniversary worth celebrating, but one that is impossible to ever forget, or ignore. This year brought with it a twist of surprise, and added sentimental value. Six years ago, one simple mistake, would change my life forever. If my accident has taught me anything, it is how very unpredictable life can be.
This year, marks the first completion of the weekly cycle. Meaning, this is the first year, since my accident, where the date, and day it falls on, is the same as on my accident. My accident happened in the very early hours, of Sunday, June 5th, 2005. This year, June 5th, also landed on a Sunday. Last night, I couldn't help but feel an added twinge of grief, as I replayed the memories of that "fateful" Saturday night, where my life got flipped upside down. To this day, I'm unsure of the precise time of my accident, but know the first hours of that Sunday, were spent in the Emergency room, terrified of what was happening, and in shock of what I'd done. That weekend, my last hours on my feet, and my first few hours paralyzed, will forever be etched into my mind. It is a day I wish I could scrub from memory.
Ever since the moment my neck snapped, I have been replaying those last few memories, on my feet, in my head, and fantasizing how different my life might be, if I had never gone to that party, never drunk, or never dove. I have reviewed, replayed, relived, analyzed, questioned, and scrutinized every second, of that final day on my feet. I have beat myself up, and find it hard to be forgiving, to myself, for my foolish actions. I have wondered, "What if..." to a million different scenarios, and have searched in vain for reasons, or self explanations, for why I chose to do, what I did. The lists go on, and on: we should've never gone to that party, I should've never drank, I should've had more to eat, I should've waited to go swimming, I should've used the ladder, I should've never dove. Each action, seems more stupid, worse and irresponsible than the one before it. The truth is, there are no reasons, or good explanations, and even if there were, it wouldn't change the outcome.
Although I never intended to do harm to myself, or anyone, my actions that day, have caused me, and my loved ones a tremendous amount of pain and grief. The combination of many common mistakes, resulted in a gigantic disaster. One moment I was happily, enjoying a self sufficient adult life, the next I was crippled beyond saving. I went from having everything I wanted, to my worst nightmare, overnight. While my life has been the most permanently effected, my accident has had a rippling effect, on everyone that was closest to me, at the time of the accident.
My accident created a horrible strain on my relationships, with many of the people I love. The sheer magnitude of loss, the fear of the uncertain, and the reality of the irreversible nature of my injury, effected everyone I love. The Christina I was, died the day of my accident, and it's been a very bumpy rode, living a completely new reality, being a completely new person. My accident has changed the way I can interact with the people I love, and has forced limitations on what I can do, and how much of a role I can play, in the lives of my family and friends. I've had to come to terms with my new life, and they've had to come to terms with the new me.
My family and friends have at times been my biggest obstacle, while at other times my biggest supporters. I have had many fights, falling outs, and disagreements, with the people closest to me. Thankfully, most of my relationships have stood the test of time, and have whethered this storm, called paralysis. Most of my loved ones have stayed right along side me, through laughs and tears, through thick and through thin. Although they might not all get along with one another, or see eye to eye, they have put aside their differences and rallied behind me. I am so grateful for my family and friends. I feel so blessed, to have so many people that love, and support me.
The rode has been especially difficult, these last couple of years, and I know for sure, I'd be long dead, if it were not for the many loving hands and hearts, that prop me up, and give me strength. There are a few people, that I have lost through this all, and for them, all I can say is sorry. I wish I knew a way to fix my mistakes, or how to repay them. It makes me sad, to think I am missing out, on being a part of their lives, and vice versa. All I can do, is try my best, with whatever time I have left.
2,190 days ago, I thought by now I'd be married to Jimmy, we'd have a couple of kids and I'd be a veteran teacher. I never thought for a moment, that life could throw me a curve ball, or that life would not fall into place, like I had planned. I thought I'd be healthy, and able to care for myself, until I was old and grey. The future seemed brighter than ever, and full of a million possibilities. I was the happiest I had ever been.
2,191 days ago, my entire life was crumbling in front of me, and my future was terrifyingly uncertain. I was newly paralyzed. I was vulnerable and scared. I was in and out of consciousness, and on the verge of death. I knew I might lose everything. I was in tremendous pain, and utter shock. I couldn't imagine a worse situation, a worse moment. I prayed with all my being, that somehow things would be ok. My loved ones were fighting, blaming, and fracturing. I didn't know who to turn to, or what to do.
Today, was not how ever imagined it to be; not during my best, or worst days. I spent the day with Jimmy, my exboyfriend. It was bittersweet, and strangely ironic, spending today with him. It was a mix of extreme high, and extreme low emotions, for both of us, as we remembered a day that changed both our lives, forever. Although we are no longer together, we will always love each other, and share a special bond. He is still one of my closest, dearest friends, with whom I feel I can be most open. He is the one that saved my life, that night, and pulled me from the water. Even though we split (romantically) months after my accident, we have been perpetually drawn back to one another, over these past six years. My accident has changed us both in profound ways, but despite everything, we share a bond, unlike any other.
Six years ago, I had bought him a birthday cake, that we had planned to share together, that coming Monday (6/6/2005), in celebration of his twenty third birthday. Those plans, like so many others, were ruined, and never came to fruition, because of my accident. I have always felt like my accident stained his birthday, with such a horrible memory. I have always wished things could've turned out differently for us, and that we would be able to share a happy memory, for his birthday. Today that wish came true.
Although today was not the ideal day, of how I wished to be spending Jimmy's birthday, I was thankful nonetheless. I feel blessed to have him back in my life, even if it's just as friends. Of course, I'll always wish for more; for both of us. However, I've come to accept my reality, for what it is, and know no amount of wishing can make it be, what I want it to be. I tried my best to enjoy our time together, despite my longings, and limitations. I tried to savor what I could, and be glad to have sitting beside me.
I don't know what the future holds for me, for Jimmy, or "us" for that matter. I gave up trying to predict the future a long time ago. All I know is that, despite my cold sweats, and relentless chills, I was able to have a few laughs, and enjoy seeing his smile. It felt good, taking a bite into a piece of his birthday cake, and for as much as it stung, to not be able to do everything I wished we could be doing, I am so glad we spent today together. Today was a day of closure, and an opportunity to create a positive memory. I hope we can make a few more happy memories together, before this life is over.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
This year, marks the first completion of the weekly cycle. Meaning, this is the first year, since my accident, where the date, and day it falls on, is the same as on my accident. My accident happened in the very early hours, of Sunday, June 5th, 2005. This year, June 5th, also landed on a Sunday. Last night, I couldn't help but feel an added twinge of grief, as I replayed the memories of that "fateful" Saturday night, where my life got flipped upside down. To this day, I'm unsure of the precise time of my accident, but know the first hours of that Sunday, were spent in the Emergency room, terrified of what was happening, and in shock of what I'd done. That weekend, my last hours on my feet, and my first few hours paralyzed, will forever be etched into my mind. It is a day I wish I could scrub from memory.
Ever since the moment my neck snapped, I have been replaying those last few memories, on my feet, in my head, and fantasizing how different my life might be, if I had never gone to that party, never drunk, or never dove. I have reviewed, replayed, relived, analyzed, questioned, and scrutinized every second, of that final day on my feet. I have beat myself up, and find it hard to be forgiving, to myself, for my foolish actions. I have wondered, "What if..." to a million different scenarios, and have searched in vain for reasons, or self explanations, for why I chose to do, what I did. The lists go on, and on: we should've never gone to that party, I should've never drank, I should've had more to eat, I should've waited to go swimming, I should've used the ladder, I should've never dove. Each action, seems more stupid, worse and irresponsible than the one before it. The truth is, there are no reasons, or good explanations, and even if there were, it wouldn't change the outcome.
Although I never intended to do harm to myself, or anyone, my actions that day, have caused me, and my loved ones a tremendous amount of pain and grief. The combination of many common mistakes, resulted in a gigantic disaster. One moment I was happily, enjoying a self sufficient adult life, the next I was crippled beyond saving. I went from having everything I wanted, to my worst nightmare, overnight. While my life has been the most permanently effected, my accident has had a rippling effect, on everyone that was closest to me, at the time of the accident.
My accident created a horrible strain on my relationships, with many of the people I love. The sheer magnitude of loss, the fear of the uncertain, and the reality of the irreversible nature of my injury, effected everyone I love. The Christina I was, died the day of my accident, and it's been a very bumpy rode, living a completely new reality, being a completely new person. My accident has changed the way I can interact with the people I love, and has forced limitations on what I can do, and how much of a role I can play, in the lives of my family and friends. I've had to come to terms with my new life, and they've had to come to terms with the new me.
My family and friends have at times been my biggest obstacle, while at other times my biggest supporters. I have had many fights, falling outs, and disagreements, with the people closest to me. Thankfully, most of my relationships have stood the test of time, and have whethered this storm, called paralysis. Most of my loved ones have stayed right along side me, through laughs and tears, through thick and through thin. Although they might not all get along with one another, or see eye to eye, they have put aside their differences and rallied behind me. I am so grateful for my family and friends. I feel so blessed, to have so many people that love, and support me.
The rode has been especially difficult, these last couple of years, and I know for sure, I'd be long dead, if it were not for the many loving hands and hearts, that prop me up, and give me strength. There are a few people, that I have lost through this all, and for them, all I can say is sorry. I wish I knew a way to fix my mistakes, or how to repay them. It makes me sad, to think I am missing out, on being a part of their lives, and vice versa. All I can do, is try my best, with whatever time I have left.
2,190 days ago, I thought by now I'd be married to Jimmy, we'd have a couple of kids and I'd be a veteran teacher. I never thought for a moment, that life could throw me a curve ball, or that life would not fall into place, like I had planned. I thought I'd be healthy, and able to care for myself, until I was old and grey. The future seemed brighter than ever, and full of a million possibilities. I was the happiest I had ever been.
2,191 days ago, my entire life was crumbling in front of me, and my future was terrifyingly uncertain. I was newly paralyzed. I was vulnerable and scared. I was in and out of consciousness, and on the verge of death. I knew I might lose everything. I was in tremendous pain, and utter shock. I couldn't imagine a worse situation, a worse moment. I prayed with all my being, that somehow things would be ok. My loved ones were fighting, blaming, and fracturing. I didn't know who to turn to, or what to do.
Today, was not how ever imagined it to be; not during my best, or worst days. I spent the day with Jimmy, my exboyfriend. It was bittersweet, and strangely ironic, spending today with him. It was a mix of extreme high, and extreme low emotions, for both of us, as we remembered a day that changed both our lives, forever. Although we are no longer together, we will always love each other, and share a special bond. He is still one of my closest, dearest friends, with whom I feel I can be most open. He is the one that saved my life, that night, and pulled me from the water. Even though we split (romantically) months after my accident, we have been perpetually drawn back to one another, over these past six years. My accident has changed us both in profound ways, but despite everything, we share a bond, unlike any other.
Six years ago, I had bought him a birthday cake, that we had planned to share together, that coming Monday (6/6/2005), in celebration of his twenty third birthday. Those plans, like so many others, were ruined, and never came to fruition, because of my accident. I have always felt like my accident stained his birthday, with such a horrible memory. I have always wished things could've turned out differently for us, and that we would be able to share a happy memory, for his birthday. Today that wish came true.
Although today was not the ideal day, of how I wished to be spending Jimmy's birthday, I was thankful nonetheless. I feel blessed to have him back in my life, even if it's just as friends. Of course, I'll always wish for more; for both of us. However, I've come to accept my reality, for what it is, and know no amount of wishing can make it be, what I want it to be. I tried my best to enjoy our time together, despite my longings, and limitations. I tried to savor what I could, and be glad to have sitting beside me.
I don't know what the future holds for me, for Jimmy, or "us" for that matter. I gave up trying to predict the future a long time ago. All I know is that, despite my cold sweats, and relentless chills, I was able to have a few laughs, and enjoy seeing his smile. It felt good, taking a bite into a piece of his birthday cake, and for as much as it stung, to not be able to do everything I wished we could be doing, I am so glad we spent today together. Today was a day of closure, and an opportunity to create a positive memory. I hope we can make a few more happy memories together, before this life is over.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Sunday, September 19, 2010
In The Blink Of An Eye
As many of you know, I've been struggling lately, with my situation, and life in general. Living with paralysis (especially a high level, complete spinal cord injury) is an ongoing struggle. Last weekend marked the ninth anniversary of 9/11, and it got me thinking of how fleeting life really is. So much has changed for me, since that fateful day, it's almost unbelievable. I'm certain, if anyone would have told me then, what I know now, about the world and my personal life, I would've have surely thought they were insane. Both 9/11 and my accident, have been hard realities to cope with. Both situations are life lessons, in how little control we have over our own lives, and how quickly life can change, or even end.
Although I thankfully did not lose a loved one that day, I know of people that have, within my community and even had a student, that had lost her father. I'm sure, for those families that did lose a loved one, the harsh reality of life's transient nature is still a raw, painful reality. While I'm sure nine years seems like a short time, to the victims families, I'm guessing most people have put the events of that day in the back of their minds. Yes, everyone else pays their respects, and honors 9/11 as a memorial, but I doubt most people take the time to reflect on the lessons of that day, or give thanks for the fact that they are still healthy, and alive. For most people, the after effects of 9/11 are a distant memory, as is the thought that each day is a gift. People tend to forget life's lessons, unless they have a constant reminder of its consequences. I mention my accident, as an example, because I live with the after effects of that day, every day. I can't put that day in the back of my mind, just as those people who were directly effected, by the 9/11 attacks, will be reminded of that day, every day.
I'm sure everyone old enough to remember the day of September 11, 2001, will never forget the details of that day. Living on the East Coast, New Jersey specifically, had a huge impact on how I was effected personally, by the terror attacks of that day, and how the attacks still effect me to this day. The Twin Towers, and lower Manhattan, had been a familiar sight my entire life. Growing up in Union County, I could often see the NY skyline, on clear days. My family moved a bit further south, when I entered high school, but about half of my neighbors in Old Bridge were all former New Yorkers, and most of them commute to the city every morning, by bus. My senior year, I dated a boy from Queens and went into New York regularly. He taught me how to navigate the subway system, which I love, and miss riding. As a college student, I took the train into the city at least once a month, my entire four years. I always had assignments to complete, by visiting the museums and galleries, plus I loved spending time downtown in Chinatown and Little Italy. Many times, I'd take the train into Manhattan by myself, and spend all day at the M.E.T. working on term papers, or just for fun. One of my favorite things to do was bring my sketchbook with me and just people watch, and wander the Egyptian and Asian sections of the M.E.T. Chinatown was my spot for my anime fix. Back then (1999-2003), anime (Japanese animation) was nowhere near as popular as it is now, and fans had to wait months, or years for current shows to be imported. I had a favorite shop on Lafayette St., where I'd buy ten to twenty VHS tapes at a clip. I was such a good customer that the shop keepers actually recognized me by face. A perfect day would be spent with my best friends, perusing the Chinatown shops, for anime, posters and memorabilia, then hit Little Italy for some coconut gelato, and take the train home, with my arms full of bags stuffed with all of my finds.
It just so happens, that I was taking a black & white photography course, in the fall of 2001. I had gone to lower Manhattan the Sunday before the attacks, to buy all of my photography supplies. That train ride was the last time I saw the towers standing, in person. Looking back, I'd like to kick myself for not photographing them, but who could've imagined they wouldn't always be there? The following day, my brother and ex-boyfriend flew into Newark airport, on a return trip, from FL and I remember my mom (step-mom) mentioning something about a small fire at the airport, which also felt eerie the following day, when we discovered one of the planes used in the attacks, had departed from Newark (the airport I've used most frequently in my life). Tuesday morning, I was on my normal commute to school, stuck in rush hour traffic, when the woman on Hot 97 (local music station) reported a plane hitting one of the Twin Towers. I distinctly remember thinking, "What moron flies that low, near the city?", assuming it was a small personal plane (in all honesty, I pictured an old fashioned bi-plane). Irregardless, I figured my rap station wasn't the best source for news, and decided to switch to a local news station. When I changed the station, an eyewitness was in mid conversation describing the crash, when he suddenly says, "Oh S**t, another plane just hit the buildings!" The announcer immediately cut the man off and started fumbling around, saying how the station couldn't confirm the man's claims. Within seconds however, the announcer says, that in fact, they had confirmed the eyewitness report with the AP. In that instant, everything changed. It was as if everyone around me, including the announcer (by the tone of his voice), had realized that there was no way that these crashes could be mistakes; these were deliberate attacks. People started pulling over and hopping out of their cars and whipping out cell phones, I imagine, in effort to locate family members, or friends. I continued on my way to school, and met up with a professor, that was my partner for a Freshman course, we were assigned to co-teach that morning. The campus was a bizzar mix of silence and chaos. There were some people still in classrooms, completely unaware of what was going on. In contrast, there were other areas where people were buzzing around, frantically trying to call loved ones, or groups of people, huddled around radios. The professor and I decided to head over to the University Center, where there were several tvs. It was already crowded in the lobby as we entered, and everyone was glued to their spot, looking up at the pictures of the black smoke, billowing out the side of the towers. I can remember thinking, "It'll be ok. They'll evacuate the buildings and be able to repair the damage." Only a few moments after that thought, I watched the first tower come tumbling down. The whole crowd gasped, and people started crying (including me), and hugging strangers. Not long after, the second tower collapsed, and we decided to head back to the office, still in shock.
Naturally, the University announced it would be canceling classes, so the professor and I went to our classroom to inform any students that might show up unaware. The eight o'clock classes were all letting out, and most of those people were learning about the attacks for the first time. Some of our students showed up, and I remember one girl in particular, that was in total distress, because they had closed off the city, and she had no way home and had not been able to reach her family by phone. I offered for her to come stay with me, if she needed too, but she declined. Thankfully, her family was fine, in the end. Back at the office, a good friend of mine, was also in a panic, over his dad, who was also eventually found. I called my boyfriend (at the time), to see if he had heard all that was going on. He worked for the phone company, so I was unsure if he'd had a chance to hear the news (because he was constantly in and out of his van, and various buildings). He was working in Newark at the time, and turns out that he was actually able to witnessed the buildings fall firsthand. It all seemed so surreal. With classes canceled, and work closing (I worked on campus), I decided to track down my best friend. It happened to be her twentieth birthday that day. Once I found her, and her boyfriend, we headed to her house and spent the rest of the day, glued to CNN. I'm sure it's one birthday she'll never forget.
In the weeks that followed, I stopped watching the news. I had begun having nightmares, of the poor people jumping from the burning buildings. I couldn't stomach seeing the images after a few days. Instead, I decided to go around New Jersey, and photograph all the makeshift memorials, that had popped up everywhere. The NJ Historical Society had asked my professor if he would help them document the memorials. Both my professor and I were interviewed byNJN, which is a a local tv station, about our roles in the project. A few of my classmates and I had our photographs displayed at the NJ Historical Society, in Newark, as part of a tribute exhibition. Ironically, the thing I remember most about the exhibit, was not so much the art, as book they had, listing all the victims from New Jersey and their respective towns. I can remember flipping through the pages and thinking about all the families that had been impacted, and how many lived in town I knew. It was a very moving experience.
About a week after the attacks, my stepmother began working with FEMA, as a crisis counselor. She worked under a special grant, named Project Phoenix, that provided free counseling services for victims' families, survivors and all the first responders. They were set up in Jersey City, and would ferry the people back and forth, to allow people to place mementos at the sight, and grieve. My mom can't talk about it much (for confidentiality reasons), but I remember some of the horrific descriptions of the site itself and can only imagine the terribly sad things she witnessed. I was (still am) very proud of her, for the work she did under that grant, which lasted at least a year (I'm a bit fuzzy on details). I'm sure she feels that way too. So many people (myself included) want to help, in a time of crisis, but don't know how, or can't. It's horrible, feeling helpless. The only downside (if you consider it that way), to my mom working at ground zero, is that she is now one of thousands, that has to be concerned (and has been examined for) with health related issues, due to all the toxins that were in the air. I'm sure all the first responders, survivors, and people like my mom, have long lasting emotional, and/or physical reminders of that day.
When I think about 9/11, or my accident, I can't help but still be in shock at how fast life can change. My whole life I've heard people say stuff, like "You never know, I could get hit by a bus tomorrow." However, when you're young and healthy, it's so easy to take life for granted. The unfortunate truth of the matter is, life can change in the blink of an eye; it doesn't matter how young, or healthy you are. Both September 11, 2001 and my accident are proof of that fact. The people that died in those towers were minding their own business, working. I'm sure the great majority woke up that morning, and started the day like any other day, and naturally, had no clue that they would never return home again. Just as, a split second mistake changed my life forever. One minute, I was healthy, happy, on my feet, and the next I was paralyzed, forever dependent on others, and all of my dreams were shattered. Although I didn't die, there is a great part of me that feels missing, and I do mourn over the person I was. In many ways, my life ended the moment I broke my neck; the life I had built, and the plans I had made. In retrospect, I wish I would have savored every moment on my feet. Knowing what I know now, magnifies all of my regrets. Every mistake, moment, or opportunity I didn't take, or missed out, seems intensified, because I know I'll never be able to have a second chance at experiencing them. Once time has passed, you can never get it back.
Some people try to protect themselves from disaster by avoiding life all together. I can remember my parents being wary of me going back into the city, after 9/11, and didn't agree with me traveling overseas in 2003. They were certainly not alone in their fears. Many people to this day, avoid big cities and/or flying, for fear of attack. I don't agree with that mentality, because I think it plays into what terrorists want; for us to stop living. I think living in fear, is the exact opposite of the lessons we should learn from catastrophic, life changing events. That is, that life is temporary, and that no one knows what tomorrow will bring. As cliche as that might sound, it is the truth and there are a million ways that life can change, and catch you completely off guard. Of course, it is important to be cautious, and mindful of the decisions you make, but it is equally important to recognize that there are always going to be factors outside of your control. For those people that are fortunate enough to be healthy and be able to care for themselves, the message, is to really enjoy life, and recognize how lucky you truly are. Once your health is gone, all the "problems" you think you have become secondary. Once you're gone, you're gone, so embrace your health and life, while you have it. Take the time to reflect and be grateful for what matters most, your health and the people you love.
Although I thankfully did not lose a loved one that day, I know of people that have, within my community and even had a student, that had lost her father. I'm sure, for those families that did lose a loved one, the harsh reality of life's transient nature is still a raw, painful reality. While I'm sure nine years seems like a short time, to the victims families, I'm guessing most people have put the events of that day in the back of their minds. Yes, everyone else pays their respects, and honors 9/11 as a memorial, but I doubt most people take the time to reflect on the lessons of that day, or give thanks for the fact that they are still healthy, and alive. For most people, the after effects of 9/11 are a distant memory, as is the thought that each day is a gift. People tend to forget life's lessons, unless they have a constant reminder of its consequences. I mention my accident, as an example, because I live with the after effects of that day, every day. I can't put that day in the back of my mind, just as those people who were directly effected, by the 9/11 attacks, will be reminded of that day, every day.
I'm sure everyone old enough to remember the day of September 11, 2001, will never forget the details of that day. Living on the East Coast, New Jersey specifically, had a huge impact on how I was effected personally, by the terror attacks of that day, and how the attacks still effect me to this day. The Twin Towers, and lower Manhattan, had been a familiar sight my entire life. Growing up in Union County, I could often see the NY skyline, on clear days. My family moved a bit further south, when I entered high school, but about half of my neighbors in Old Bridge were all former New Yorkers, and most of them commute to the city every morning, by bus. My senior year, I dated a boy from Queens and went into New York regularly. He taught me how to navigate the subway system, which I love, and miss riding. As a college student, I took the train into the city at least once a month, my entire four years. I always had assignments to complete, by visiting the museums and galleries, plus I loved spending time downtown in Chinatown and Little Italy. Many times, I'd take the train into Manhattan by myself, and spend all day at the M.E.T. working on term papers, or just for fun. One of my favorite things to do was bring my sketchbook with me and just people watch, and wander the Egyptian and Asian sections of the M.E.T. Chinatown was my spot for my anime fix. Back then (1999-2003), anime (Japanese animation) was nowhere near as popular as it is now, and fans had to wait months, or years for current shows to be imported. I had a favorite shop on Lafayette St., where I'd buy ten to twenty VHS tapes at a clip. I was such a good customer that the shop keepers actually recognized me by face. A perfect day would be spent with my best friends, perusing the Chinatown shops, for anime, posters and memorabilia, then hit Little Italy for some coconut gelato, and take the train home, with my arms full of bags stuffed with all of my finds.
It just so happens, that I was taking a black & white photography course, in the fall of 2001. I had gone to lower Manhattan the Sunday before the attacks, to buy all of my photography supplies. That train ride was the last time I saw the towers standing, in person. Looking back, I'd like to kick myself for not photographing them, but who could've imagined they wouldn't always be there? The following day, my brother and ex-boyfriend flew into Newark airport, on a return trip, from FL and I remember my mom (step-mom) mentioning something about a small fire at the airport, which also felt eerie the following day, when we discovered one of the planes used in the attacks, had departed from Newark (the airport I've used most frequently in my life). Tuesday morning, I was on my normal commute to school, stuck in rush hour traffic, when the woman on Hot 97 (local music station) reported a plane hitting one of the Twin Towers. I distinctly remember thinking, "What moron flies that low, near the city?", assuming it was a small personal plane (in all honesty, I pictured an old fashioned bi-plane). Irregardless, I figured my rap station wasn't the best source for news, and decided to switch to a local news station. When I changed the station, an eyewitness was in mid conversation describing the crash, when he suddenly says, "Oh S**t, another plane just hit the buildings!" The announcer immediately cut the man off and started fumbling around, saying how the station couldn't confirm the man's claims. Within seconds however, the announcer says, that in fact, they had confirmed the eyewitness report with the AP. In that instant, everything changed. It was as if everyone around me, including the announcer (by the tone of his voice), had realized that there was no way that these crashes could be mistakes; these were deliberate attacks. People started pulling over and hopping out of their cars and whipping out cell phones, I imagine, in effort to locate family members, or friends. I continued on my way to school, and met up with a professor, that was my partner for a Freshman course, we were assigned to co-teach that morning. The campus was a bizzar mix of silence and chaos. There were some people still in classrooms, completely unaware of what was going on. In contrast, there were other areas where people were buzzing around, frantically trying to call loved ones, or groups of people, huddled around radios. The professor and I decided to head over to the University Center, where there were several tvs. It was already crowded in the lobby as we entered, and everyone was glued to their spot, looking up at the pictures of the black smoke, billowing out the side of the towers. I can remember thinking, "It'll be ok. They'll evacuate the buildings and be able to repair the damage." Only a few moments after that thought, I watched the first tower come tumbling down. The whole crowd gasped, and people started crying (including me), and hugging strangers. Not long after, the second tower collapsed, and we decided to head back to the office, still in shock.
Naturally, the University announced it would be canceling classes, so the professor and I went to our classroom to inform any students that might show up unaware. The eight o'clock classes were all letting out, and most of those people were learning about the attacks for the first time. Some of our students showed up, and I remember one girl in particular, that was in total distress, because they had closed off the city, and she had no way home and had not been able to reach her family by phone. I offered for her to come stay with me, if she needed too, but she declined. Thankfully, her family was fine, in the end. Back at the office, a good friend of mine, was also in a panic, over his dad, who was also eventually found. I called my boyfriend (at the time), to see if he had heard all that was going on. He worked for the phone company, so I was unsure if he'd had a chance to hear the news (because he was constantly in and out of his van, and various buildings). He was working in Newark at the time, and turns out that he was actually able to witnessed the buildings fall firsthand. It all seemed so surreal. With classes canceled, and work closing (I worked on campus), I decided to track down my best friend. It happened to be her twentieth birthday that day. Once I found her, and her boyfriend, we headed to her house and spent the rest of the day, glued to CNN. I'm sure it's one birthday she'll never forget.
In the weeks that followed, I stopped watching the news. I had begun having nightmares, of the poor people jumping from the burning buildings. I couldn't stomach seeing the images after a few days. Instead, I decided to go around New Jersey, and photograph all the makeshift memorials, that had popped up everywhere. The NJ Historical Society had asked my professor if he would help them document the memorials. Both my professor and I were interviewed byNJN, which is a a local tv station, about our roles in the project. A few of my classmates and I had our photographs displayed at the NJ Historical Society, in Newark, as part of a tribute exhibition. Ironically, the thing I remember most about the exhibit, was not so much the art, as book they had, listing all the victims from New Jersey and their respective towns. I can remember flipping through the pages and thinking about all the families that had been impacted, and how many lived in town I knew. It was a very moving experience.
About a week after the attacks, my stepmother began working with FEMA, as a crisis counselor. She worked under a special grant, named Project Phoenix, that provided free counseling services for victims' families, survivors and all the first responders. They were set up in Jersey City, and would ferry the people back and forth, to allow people to place mementos at the sight, and grieve. My mom can't talk about it much (for confidentiality reasons), but I remember some of the horrific descriptions of the site itself and can only imagine the terribly sad things she witnessed. I was (still am) very proud of her, for the work she did under that grant, which lasted at least a year (I'm a bit fuzzy on details). I'm sure she feels that way too. So many people (myself included) want to help, in a time of crisis, but don't know how, or can't. It's horrible, feeling helpless. The only downside (if you consider it that way), to my mom working at ground zero, is that she is now one of thousands, that has to be concerned (and has been examined for) with health related issues, due to all the toxins that were in the air. I'm sure all the first responders, survivors, and people like my mom, have long lasting emotional, and/or physical reminders of that day.
When I think about 9/11, or my accident, I can't help but still be in shock at how fast life can change. My whole life I've heard people say stuff, like "You never know, I could get hit by a bus tomorrow." However, when you're young and healthy, it's so easy to take life for granted. The unfortunate truth of the matter is, life can change in the blink of an eye; it doesn't matter how young, or healthy you are. Both September 11, 2001 and my accident are proof of that fact. The people that died in those towers were minding their own business, working. I'm sure the great majority woke up that morning, and started the day like any other day, and naturally, had no clue that they would never return home again. Just as, a split second mistake changed my life forever. One minute, I was healthy, happy, on my feet, and the next I was paralyzed, forever dependent on others, and all of my dreams were shattered. Although I didn't die, there is a great part of me that feels missing, and I do mourn over the person I was. In many ways, my life ended the moment I broke my neck; the life I had built, and the plans I had made. In retrospect, I wish I would have savored every moment on my feet. Knowing what I know now, magnifies all of my regrets. Every mistake, moment, or opportunity I didn't take, or missed out, seems intensified, because I know I'll never be able to have a second chance at experiencing them. Once time has passed, you can never get it back.
Some people try to protect themselves from disaster by avoiding life all together. I can remember my parents being wary of me going back into the city, after 9/11, and didn't agree with me traveling overseas in 2003. They were certainly not alone in their fears. Many people to this day, avoid big cities and/or flying, for fear of attack. I don't agree with that mentality, because I think it plays into what terrorists want; for us to stop living. I think living in fear, is the exact opposite of the lessons we should learn from catastrophic, life changing events. That is, that life is temporary, and that no one knows what tomorrow will bring. As cliche as that might sound, it is the truth and there are a million ways that life can change, and catch you completely off guard. Of course, it is important to be cautious, and mindful of the decisions you make, but it is equally important to recognize that there are always going to be factors outside of your control. For those people that are fortunate enough to be healthy and be able to care for themselves, the message, is to really enjoy life, and recognize how lucky you truly are. Once your health is gone, all the "problems" you think you have become secondary. Once you're gone, you're gone, so embrace your health and life, while you have it. Take the time to reflect and be grateful for what matters most, your health and the people you love.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Regret & Forgiveness
I checked my website email account today and discovered a few new messages. One of the emails was from someone who had watched the episode of Soul Survivors that I did, on Youtube. He asked me if I often re-live (in my thoughts) the day of my accident and how I deal with regret. I thought they were great questions and want to share my response in the form of a blog, since I'm sure there are many other people out there that can relate.
Regret and forgiveness are two things I struggle with every day. I think the worst part about my accident (other than the consequences) is the fact that I did this to myself. I've experienced a lot of horrible things since that day. One of the worst things that happened right after my injury, was the fact that some of my closest friends and family made my situation worst for me, by arguing, accusing, blaming, judging and guilting me and one another. Everyone deals with grief and trauma differently and a lot of things that people in my life at the time, did and said, really shocked me. It is very true that people show their true colors, when you are at your lowest point. Some people soar and go above and beyond your wildest dreams and show you support and love you never expected. Other people shut down, close you out and disappoint you. The surprise comes in when people you've trusted your entire life let you down. They say love is unconditional, but I've learned that unfortunately, that is not always the case.
It has been incredibly hard for me to deal with all the loss and drastic changes that I've experienced. Many of the people that claim to love me, say it is sometimes equally painful (or so they think) for them, to see me suffer. The key difference is, I have no escape. I can't put my paralysis by the wayside when it gets too tough. I don't get to go back to my normal life or choose to remove myself from the situation. My family and friends have the choice to run from the situation, or at the very least, distance themselves, distract themselves or focus on other things. Some people might feel they're not strong enough to handle being in my life. For them, it is easier to dull the pain by turning a blind eye and remove themselves from the situation. At times, it upsets me, because I consider it selfish and cowardly. No matter how sad I am, how hard I try or desperate I might feel, I'm stuck. I either deal with it, or go mad. It's challenging to find strength, when people on the outside are not supportive. You can't help but think, "What's with them? They still have everything, just the same as before. They get to leave here and go on with there life." On the other hand, I suppose it's not fair of me to expect other people to put themselves through discomfort or drama, on my behalf. My family situation is tangled and broken, and added to the difficulty of my situation. My parents divorced when I was a baby and I've bounced back & forth between two families my entire life. The animosity and tension amongst my two families bubbled over after my injury and added a ton of extra stress and pain to my already horrible situation. Despite all the tears, anger and hurtful words, I've been able to forgive everyone, except myself. I guess this stems from the fact that I love my family and friends, but hate myself. It is easy to forgive someone you love, despite how much they hurt you; at least it is for me.
I've never had terriffic self esteem. I've always been hard on myself and much more critical of my own flaws, than the flaws of others. I think the perfectionist in me helped me to achieve a ton of positive things in my life, but it has certainly added anxiety and stress as well. It's very hard for me to be totally satisfied with what I do. I'm not competitive by nature, with other people, but I'm constantly striving to fit the vision inside my head (of myself, goals and aspirations). I've always pushed myself to strive for really high goals and try hard to achieve them. However, I managed to unravel all my hard and shatter my dreams in the matter of seconds. I destroyed everything I worked for with one very stupid mistake. The fact that my mistake seems so obviously idiotic, makes it all the harder to deal with and admit to the fact. Although a lot of people have told me I've made them proud (in how I've dealt with my paralysis), I'm a disappointment to myself.
I don't have any answers for myself, as to why I did what I did. Perhaps, if I had had some sort of plan in mind (like trying to do a shallow dive) and botched it, at least I'd be able to look at it as just being a mistake. However, I have no logical answer and I don't remember any specific intentions. I just dove in, blindly, without thinking. The frustrating part of it all, is that I never dove (as an adult). Swimming was one of the very few physical activities I enjoyed and looked forward to each year. I'd been swimming almost as long as I'd been walking. My family had above ground pools throughout my entire childhood and I was familiar with pool from my accident. I also had regular access (community pool and family) to in-ground pools growing up and as an adult. The last time I can remember ever diving head first into a pool, would've been before the age of eleven. I attended a pool party around that age, which turned me off from diving. Nothing particularly drastic happened at that party, I just recall it being the first time I felt afraid or thought I might hurt myself swimming. I vividly remember climbing the ladder to the high dive board, walking to the edge of the board, preparing to dive and chickening out last minute, to the annoyance of everyone behind me. I can't remember if I was forced to jump in, or if I climbed back down the ladder, but I never attempted a dive again, until the night of my accident.
I normally liked to jump into pools feet first or cannon ball style. The thought of getting accustomed to the water temperature inch, by inch, does not appeal to me. I much rather just take the plunge and be done with it all at once. I know I was feeling lazy the night of the accident and climbing up onto the side of the pool seemed the fastest way into the water. It would be no surprise to me if I would've chosen to jump into the pool, feet first and had broken my leg, stubbed my toes, or banged up my feet. That would make sense. That would sound like me. Diving in, head first, into sixty inches of water makes no sense and doesn't mesh with my character.
For a long time I beat myself up over the fact that I had been drinking that night. Those guilty (guilty of what, I'm not sure) feelings were only exacerbated by the blame and shame that was drilled into me, over and over again, during the first weeks after my accident. At my weakest point, my mistake was thrown back at me, time and time again and the story became exagerated and distorted. I was experiencing fevers 106 degrees and above, hallucinated and heavily drugged. I was living off of machines and was close to death. Despite all that was happening, I had to endure (some) my loved ones telling me how foolish I was and picking at every little flaw I had. I can remember feeling like dirt, here I was, beating myself up more than anyone, fighting to live, and yet certain people felt it necessary to make me feel worst. Aspects of my life were blown out of proportion and lies were made. I was weak, with cloudy thoughts and the desperation of not knowing what my life was going to be like. My loved ones were fighting and all I could do at that point was cry and try to make it seem like it would ok. I really believed that if I tried hard enough, I could heal myself and make up for my dumb mistake. Looking back, it all makes me very angry. I'm angry at myself, for not being stronger to stand my ground and be more in control of the situation, but at the time, my life had just dissolved in front of me and all I could think about was making it all right again.
Naturally, I think I'll always wonder how much the alcohol contributed to my decisions that night. I'll always wonder if those drinks influenced me to dive. I certainly wasn't falling down drunk, nor had I really felt drunk at the time. However from the minute I can remember waking up in the ER, that became the focus point of it all. The alcohol became the scapegoat as to why I dove and the guilt just piled on and on. It's only recently that I've forgiven myself a tiny bit over the fact that I had drank. At the time, I was twenty-four years old. I had bought my own drinks and had no intention of driving home that night. I only had had a few, and was obviously coordinated enough to scale the side of the pool and balance myself on top of the rim. It apparently had seemed shocking to some (obvious by their reactions), that a twenty four year old teacher might like to relax with friends and drink on the weekends. At the time, I let that guilt and shame eat away at me. Fortunately for my sanity, I've since realized that I was not an anomaly. Even now (pushing thirty), tons of my hardworking, educated, professional friends enjoy drinks on the weekends, have parties with friends and enjoy going out. I'm not exactly sure why I was made to feel like an ax murderer, for having a few drinks, but I was. I was balancing a lot of things that year and did stretch myself too thin at times, but that's hardly a crime. I take comfort in the fact that I know I had my life on track (it's easy to judge, when you only see one piece of the puzzle) and had accomplished a lot of things in my life that I'm still proud of. I no longer feel wrong for drinking, however much or little. I could sit here all day and list specific regrets for that day (changing our plans, going to the party, planning to swim, drinking, diving), but it's only because it's in hindsight and because of the overall consequence of the chain of events. I regret drinking because I'll always have that doubt over what role it played that night. I haven't had a sip of liquor since and made a promise to myself to never drink again; not because it's wrong or evil, but because I don't want to ever feel like I'm not 100% in control of my thoughts and decision making.
Drinking is just one of many regretful decisions I made that day. However, I only regret them because of what happened. Any other time, I wouldn't have regretted planning to swim; I'd swum at night before. I wouldn't normally regret the fact that we (me and my ex-boyfriend) had decided to go to the party last minute, instead of just staying home. I'd been swimming a million times before, had drank alcohol and had been to plenty of parties before that night, and had had a fun time and life continued on as usual. I'm sure millions of Americans will enjoy barbecues, drinking and swimming this summer without a problem. In fact, millions of people will do extremely risky things, like ride motorcycles, extreme sports, cliff diving, jump on trampolines, or just silly stunts for fun, and they will get hurt and walk away. Then there's the few thousand people that will get hurt and never walk again. For what ever reason, I was one of those thousand people, in the summer of 2005.
Since my injury, I see the world from an entirely different perspective. I see things on tv or when I go out, that make me cringe, because I know how close that person was to ending up like me. I watch shows like "World's Dumbest...Videos" and I'm just flabbergasted by the things I see people do on purpose and with a specific intent (One example, is a man sets a ladder up against his neighbor's tree, attempts to jump over his fence and land on his pool cover, but gets his foot caught on a rung on the way down and falls on the cement. Another example, is a boy that decided to ride his bicycle off the roof of his house, into a pile of snow down below.) and not only survive, but get up and walk away. At times, it makes me frustrated and angry when I see people do something similar to me or worst, and nothing happens. In fact, in the typical irony to my life, I watched (and recorded) a commercial the other day for Branchburg Pools, in which the salesman dives head first into a similar above ground pool and pops right back up to continue his sales pitch. Don't get me wrong, I don't want to see the other people paralyzed; I just can't help but think, "Why I am so different? Why didn't I pop back up? Why couldn't I walk away?" I certainly can't answer those questions, nor can anyone else.
Having no answers as to why I chose to do what I did, or reason as to why I have to pay such a high price, is extremely difficult to deal with. Given the fact that I was the one that ultimately dove (regardless of any outside contributing factors) into the pool, makes it near impossible to forgive myself. Especially given the fact, that I was an experienced swimmer and have no clear explanation as to what I was trying to do. Did I think I could shallow dive the length of the pool? Did I miscalculate the depth, because I couldn't see the bottom clearly? I'll never know for sure, but I will always regret the choice. The next question is, how do you forgive someone that ruined your life (stole your freedom, took your independence, robbed you of relationships, ended your career and in essence, killed a part of you.)? More importantly, what if you are that person? It's been five years, and I've yet to come up with any solutions. I just continue to try to do the best I can.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Regret and forgiveness are two things I struggle with every day. I think the worst part about my accident (other than the consequences) is the fact that I did this to myself. I've experienced a lot of horrible things since that day. One of the worst things that happened right after my injury, was the fact that some of my closest friends and family made my situation worst for me, by arguing, accusing, blaming, judging and guilting me and one another. Everyone deals with grief and trauma differently and a lot of things that people in my life at the time, did and said, really shocked me. It is very true that people show their true colors, when you are at your lowest point. Some people soar and go above and beyond your wildest dreams and show you support and love you never expected. Other people shut down, close you out and disappoint you. The surprise comes in when people you've trusted your entire life let you down. They say love is unconditional, but I've learned that unfortunately, that is not always the case.
It has been incredibly hard for me to deal with all the loss and drastic changes that I've experienced. Many of the people that claim to love me, say it is sometimes equally painful (or so they think) for them, to see me suffer. The key difference is, I have no escape. I can't put my paralysis by the wayside when it gets too tough. I don't get to go back to my normal life or choose to remove myself from the situation. My family and friends have the choice to run from the situation, or at the very least, distance themselves, distract themselves or focus on other things. Some people might feel they're not strong enough to handle being in my life. For them, it is easier to dull the pain by turning a blind eye and remove themselves from the situation. At times, it upsets me, because I consider it selfish and cowardly. No matter how sad I am, how hard I try or desperate I might feel, I'm stuck. I either deal with it, or go mad. It's challenging to find strength, when people on the outside are not supportive. You can't help but think, "What's with them? They still have everything, just the same as before. They get to leave here and go on with there life." On the other hand, I suppose it's not fair of me to expect other people to put themselves through discomfort or drama, on my behalf. My family situation is tangled and broken, and added to the difficulty of my situation. My parents divorced when I was a baby and I've bounced back & forth between two families my entire life. The animosity and tension amongst my two families bubbled over after my injury and added a ton of extra stress and pain to my already horrible situation. Despite all the tears, anger and hurtful words, I've been able to forgive everyone, except myself. I guess this stems from the fact that I love my family and friends, but hate myself. It is easy to forgive someone you love, despite how much they hurt you; at least it is for me.
I've never had terriffic self esteem. I've always been hard on myself and much more critical of my own flaws, than the flaws of others. I think the perfectionist in me helped me to achieve a ton of positive things in my life, but it has certainly added anxiety and stress as well. It's very hard for me to be totally satisfied with what I do. I'm not competitive by nature, with other people, but I'm constantly striving to fit the vision inside my head (of myself, goals and aspirations). I've always pushed myself to strive for really high goals and try hard to achieve them. However, I managed to unravel all my hard and shatter my dreams in the matter of seconds. I destroyed everything I worked for with one very stupid mistake. The fact that my mistake seems so obviously idiotic, makes it all the harder to deal with and admit to the fact. Although a lot of people have told me I've made them proud (in how I've dealt with my paralysis), I'm a disappointment to myself.
I don't have any answers for myself, as to why I did what I did. Perhaps, if I had had some sort of plan in mind (like trying to do a shallow dive) and botched it, at least I'd be able to look at it as just being a mistake. However, I have no logical answer and I don't remember any specific intentions. I just dove in, blindly, without thinking. The frustrating part of it all, is that I never dove (as an adult). Swimming was one of the very few physical activities I enjoyed and looked forward to each year. I'd been swimming almost as long as I'd been walking. My family had above ground pools throughout my entire childhood and I was familiar with pool from my accident. I also had regular access (community pool and family) to in-ground pools growing up and as an adult. The last time I can remember ever diving head first into a pool, would've been before the age of eleven. I attended a pool party around that age, which turned me off from diving. Nothing particularly drastic happened at that party, I just recall it being the first time I felt afraid or thought I might hurt myself swimming. I vividly remember climbing the ladder to the high dive board, walking to the edge of the board, preparing to dive and chickening out last minute, to the annoyance of everyone behind me. I can't remember if I was forced to jump in, or if I climbed back down the ladder, but I never attempted a dive again, until the night of my accident.
I normally liked to jump into pools feet first or cannon ball style. The thought of getting accustomed to the water temperature inch, by inch, does not appeal to me. I much rather just take the plunge and be done with it all at once. I know I was feeling lazy the night of the accident and climbing up onto the side of the pool seemed the fastest way into the water. It would be no surprise to me if I would've chosen to jump into the pool, feet first and had broken my leg, stubbed my toes, or banged up my feet. That would make sense. That would sound like me. Diving in, head first, into sixty inches of water makes no sense and doesn't mesh with my character.
For a long time I beat myself up over the fact that I had been drinking that night. Those guilty (guilty of what, I'm not sure) feelings were only exacerbated by the blame and shame that was drilled into me, over and over again, during the first weeks after my accident. At my weakest point, my mistake was thrown back at me, time and time again and the story became exagerated and distorted. I was experiencing fevers 106 degrees and above, hallucinated and heavily drugged. I was living off of machines and was close to death. Despite all that was happening, I had to endure (some) my loved ones telling me how foolish I was and picking at every little flaw I had. I can remember feeling like dirt, here I was, beating myself up more than anyone, fighting to live, and yet certain people felt it necessary to make me feel worst. Aspects of my life were blown out of proportion and lies were made. I was weak, with cloudy thoughts and the desperation of not knowing what my life was going to be like. My loved ones were fighting and all I could do at that point was cry and try to make it seem like it would ok. I really believed that if I tried hard enough, I could heal myself and make up for my dumb mistake. Looking back, it all makes me very angry. I'm angry at myself, for not being stronger to stand my ground and be more in control of the situation, but at the time, my life had just dissolved in front of me and all I could think about was making it all right again.
Naturally, I think I'll always wonder how much the alcohol contributed to my decisions that night. I'll always wonder if those drinks influenced me to dive. I certainly wasn't falling down drunk, nor had I really felt drunk at the time. However from the minute I can remember waking up in the ER, that became the focus point of it all. The alcohol became the scapegoat as to why I dove and the guilt just piled on and on. It's only recently that I've forgiven myself a tiny bit over the fact that I had drank. At the time, I was twenty-four years old. I had bought my own drinks and had no intention of driving home that night. I only had had a few, and was obviously coordinated enough to scale the side of the pool and balance myself on top of the rim. It apparently had seemed shocking to some (obvious by their reactions), that a twenty four year old teacher might like to relax with friends and drink on the weekends. At the time, I let that guilt and shame eat away at me. Fortunately for my sanity, I've since realized that I was not an anomaly. Even now (pushing thirty), tons of my hardworking, educated, professional friends enjoy drinks on the weekends, have parties with friends and enjoy going out. I'm not exactly sure why I was made to feel like an ax murderer, for having a few drinks, but I was. I was balancing a lot of things that year and did stretch myself too thin at times, but that's hardly a crime. I take comfort in the fact that I know I had my life on track (it's easy to judge, when you only see one piece of the puzzle) and had accomplished a lot of things in my life that I'm still proud of. I no longer feel wrong for drinking, however much or little. I could sit here all day and list specific regrets for that day (changing our plans, going to the party, planning to swim, drinking, diving), but it's only because it's in hindsight and because of the overall consequence of the chain of events. I regret drinking because I'll always have that doubt over what role it played that night. I haven't had a sip of liquor since and made a promise to myself to never drink again; not because it's wrong or evil, but because I don't want to ever feel like I'm not 100% in control of my thoughts and decision making.
Drinking is just one of many regretful decisions I made that day. However, I only regret them because of what happened. Any other time, I wouldn't have regretted planning to swim; I'd swum at night before. I wouldn't normally regret the fact that we (me and my ex-boyfriend) had decided to go to the party last minute, instead of just staying home. I'd been swimming a million times before, had drank alcohol and had been to plenty of parties before that night, and had had a fun time and life continued on as usual. I'm sure millions of Americans will enjoy barbecues, drinking and swimming this summer without a problem. In fact, millions of people will do extremely risky things, like ride motorcycles, extreme sports, cliff diving, jump on trampolines, or just silly stunts for fun, and they will get hurt and walk away. Then there's the few thousand people that will get hurt and never walk again. For what ever reason, I was one of those thousand people, in the summer of 2005.
Since my injury, I see the world from an entirely different perspective. I see things on tv or when I go out, that make me cringe, because I know how close that person was to ending up like me. I watch shows like "World's Dumbest...Videos" and I'm just flabbergasted by the things I see people do on purpose and with a specific intent (One example, is a man sets a ladder up against his neighbor's tree, attempts to jump over his fence and land on his pool cover, but gets his foot caught on a rung on the way down and falls on the cement. Another example, is a boy that decided to ride his bicycle off the roof of his house, into a pile of snow down below.) and not only survive, but get up and walk away. At times, it makes me frustrated and angry when I see people do something similar to me or worst, and nothing happens. In fact, in the typical irony to my life, I watched (and recorded) a commercial the other day for Branchburg Pools, in which the salesman dives head first into a similar above ground pool and pops right back up to continue his sales pitch. Don't get me wrong, I don't want to see the other people paralyzed; I just can't help but think, "Why I am so different? Why didn't I pop back up? Why couldn't I walk away?" I certainly can't answer those questions, nor can anyone else.
Having no answers as to why I chose to do what I did, or reason as to why I have to pay such a high price, is extremely difficult to deal with. Given the fact that I was the one that ultimately dove (regardless of any outside contributing factors) into the pool, makes it near impossible to forgive myself. Especially given the fact, that I was an experienced swimmer and have no clear explanation as to what I was trying to do. Did I think I could shallow dive the length of the pool? Did I miscalculate the depth, because I couldn't see the bottom clearly? I'll never know for sure, but I will always regret the choice. The next question is, how do you forgive someone that ruined your life (stole your freedom, took your independence, robbed you of relationships, ended your career and in essence, killed a part of you.)? More importantly, what if you are that person? It's been five years, and I've yet to come up with any solutions. I just continue to try to do the best I can.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Friday, April 9, 2010
Going Out
As many of you know, I don't go out much these days. I basically stay inside all winter, as it's near impossible for me to withstand the cold weather. I'm usually colder than everyone to begin with, so even with the heat on at a normal level, I'm shivering. My inability to move around and poor circulation make it very hard to warm up. Unless it's something very important, I try to avoid making plans with friends that require me to leave my apartment. Luckily, there's plenty of holidays and birthdays to keep me busy. Every year it seems to get a bit harder to meet up with friends, due to the fact that almost all my friends are married and/or have children. Although, I'm grateful that my friends make the effort to visit me, given everyone's hectic schedules. I have a reasonable excuse for staying indoors during the winter; it's the rest of the year that I struggle and to force myself to go out.
Before my accident, I was on the go non stop. I spent a great deal of time in my car and juggled a lot of responsibilities, in addition to hanging out with friends and family. Spring 2005 was probably the most hectic time in my life. I was always pressed for time, but none the less very happy. At the time, I had my full time teaching career, my apartment, traveled back and forth to PA (to visit friends and boyfriend) almost every weekend, put on three art shows for my students, joined a gym, was attending bar tending school, and taking a graduate course. I still managed to go out and enjoy my free time and genuinely looked forward to spending time with my friends and family (especially my boyfriend). I loved to shop. Even when my down time was scarce, I'd hit the mall and do a little shopping. I never ran short on reasons to buy new clothes! Despite all my spending, I was responsible with my finances and had no debt. I just enjoyed giving gifts and having new things. I was not married and had no children and was making a good salary, so I had no regrets treating myself. I'd have to say, I hit the mall about once a week. Buying clothes was my all time favorite thing to do at the mall. I enjoyed seeing all the latest fashions and had fun trying on clothes. It was always fun and exciting for me to have new things to wear.
I was comfortable with going out by myself, but I preferred being with friends (or boyfriend) most of the time. I'm a people person. Crowds never bothered me, in fact I kind of liked the hustle and bustle of the city. The more people there are, the more interesting things there were to see. I used to go to Manhattan regularly during my college years, for assignments. I could spend the entire day just seeing the sites and watching other people. I loved the diversity of the city and the fast paced nature of the people. Even simple things, like taking the subway, were interesting and fun for me. I could spent hours wandering around the museums. It didn't seem to matter how often I went; there was always something new to see and favorite areas to explore.
I've always enjoyed dancing. I missed out on parties and dancing during my college years (due in part to an ex-boyfriend). I say "missed out" because there were many opportunities and invites to go out that I turned down. I would've loved to be more social in college, but my choice to be with my boyfriend (during college) kept me from going. The positives to staying at home more were having good grades and tremendous focus. However, once I was single again, I found a sense of freedom and exilleration that I had been missing. I went to clubs and bars occasionally on the weekends and had fun dressing up and letting loose. Hanging out with some of my friends required along drive, but it was worth it. Dancing was a perfect stress relief and I had a lot of laughs with my friends. I was usually up for doing almost anything and perferred to go out versus staying at home. Apart from shopping and going dancing, I enjoyed seeing all of the latest movies and spent a lot of time eating out.
I've always piled a lot of responsibilities on my plate, but somehow managed to balance everything fine. I was rather good at time management and being organized, which made it possible to have a life outside of career. When I was still living with my parents, I can remember them getting annoyed at the fact that I was hardly ever around. They felt I treated home as a hotel, and only stopped by to sleep and shower. For the most part, they were right. I've been on the go almost my whole life, bouncing back and forth between divorced parents. I had moved out once, before I had my own apartment. Moving back wit my parents after having lived independently felt awkward and suffocating. I didn't waste much time planning on getting my place. It's not that I have anything against my parents, I just prefer to be free andindependent. I liked the feeling of not having to depend on anyone and the freedom to come and go as I pleased.
The thing my parents didn't realize was how many extra hours I stayed at work, or how many projects I was working on. I was usually the first teacher to arrive, and the last to leave. I never minded putting in extra time, because I loved my job. I was never asked to do a lot of the extra things I did, but they were important to me, and I was happy to sacrifice my time. I wanted my classroom to run a certain way and I wanted to be flexible in helping with responsibilities around school. The year of my accident I put on three art shows, worked on two murals and ran the yearbook club. I attended school even and maintained an ever changing display of my students' work. I don't think anyone in my life (apart from my boyfriend) realized exactly how much I was balancing at the time. I was stressed out, but I was also very proud of my achievements and was happy with my life.
As you can imagine, my life changed drastically after my injury and there are countless aspects of my "old life," that I've lost, or no longer enjoy. My desire (or lack there of) to go out is a perfect example of how my injury has had an impact on my life. Since my accident, the thought of going out is comparable to having a root canal; something you have to do, despite the pain. My apartment has become a safe haven for me, where it is easier to cope with my situation. I have more control over what I let in and it's easier to block things out. In the nursing home I had no peace. I wasn't happy at "home" and I was scared to go out. My computer was my only window to the world and even that was bittersweet. Everything I see reminds me of what I had, what I have and what I want. Every good memory has become painful, to some degree. Every time I leave the security of my apartment I risk being bombarded by reminders of my past and feelings of jealousy, shame and regret over what I lost. I can't help but compare myself to all the people I see. I can't help but feel embarrassed by the help I need and jealous of all the things I see other people doing.
I force myself to go out, because I feel like it's the right thing to do. I have been given opportunities to help other people in my situation through my artwork and I feel obligated to do what I can. I know it's not healthy for anyone to be a hermit. We (humanity) all need to socialize and share experiences with other people. I realize that the only way to keep my friends is to be a part of their lives and contribute what I can to my relationships with them. My grandma sometimes gets sad when her friends tell her about all the wonderful things their grandkids are doing. I understand the resentment she sometimes feels, because I know how hard it is for me to feel happy for other people, while I'm feeling miserable about myself. It's those times that I remind her (and myself) that the world is not gong to stop, just because I got hurt and that friendship is about give and take. Yes, it sucks that I'm paralyzed, but my situation shouldn't over shadow everyone else's happiness. I can''t expect people to mope around over what happened to me, nor do I want them too. I try to put my sadness aside and be happy for my friends, because I realize that everything is not about me. I can't expect anyone to want to be around me, if all I ever do is cry, complain and focus on the negative. I often do things that make me uncomfortable for the sake of my friends and family. If I gave in to my emotions and refused to hangout because I didn't feel up to it, I'd never go anywhere. I could easily isolate myself within a bubble and eventually people would stop inviting me and making an effort to include me. I wouldn't blame them.
My aides, nurses, family and friends all encourage me to go out more than I do. It's not to say that I get no enjoyment from going out; it's just that every experience comes with it's own level of sadness, embarrassment or anger. I try to balance pros and cons in my mind before I decide what to do. There are just certain things that are so uncomfortable that the small amount of fun or excitement I might have is greatly out weighed by my discomfort. Events like weddings and baby showers are outings that rank high on my discomfort list. Therefor, I avoid them, unless the people involved are extremely important to me and worth the inner turmoil. A perfect example of this would be my best friend's wedding. Not only did I attend the wedding, but I had to face multiple fears and tackle new experiences. It was my first time traveling by airplane after my accident. It was my first time to Florida, since my accident. It was also the first time I had to spend a night away from home, since my accident. The trip came with a lot of emotional discomfort, stress and anxiety. I put my feelings aside and committed myself to going, because I knew how important it was to my friends (bride & groom). They had both made a lot of sacrifices for me and supported me more than anyone, the first year after my accident. I refused to let my situation be an excuse and met the challenge head on, for the sake of my friends. There are times when I feel like the outcome is more important than my personal feelings and that I'd be selfish to not participate. I try to remind myself of the bigger picture. If I can give something back to those that are constantly giving to me, I put my feelings aside. If I feel like I can help others by letting people into my comfort zone, I do it.
I think it's easy for people to forget or make light of how different everything is for me. I think it's hard for people close to me to understand why I seldom go out. They compare me to the "old Christina," that was super outgoing and always on the run . That Christina no longer exists. My accident has changed the way I see the world and my desires to interact within it. It's often the activities I used to love the most that now bother me the most. The average, some times mundane things can be stressful and not worth doing for me. Things like going to the mall, grocery shopping, doctor visits, hanging out with friends and going out to eat are common activities that most people take for granted, because they don't have all the extra concerns that I do. In some aspects, I know I can't expect people to understand things from my perspective, because they haven't lived it and often don't know enough about paralysis to consider it.
Every time I leave my apartment I have a long list of things to worry about. Not to mention the fact that I can not just pick up go, on a whim, like before. I can't just pop in my car and go. I need help getting ready. I need special equipment and a modified car (ideally) to help transport me. I always have stress and worry over my catheter and the possibility of incontinence. I also have to consider who can accompany me, or help me at my destination. I have to consider accessibility; whether or not there will there be stairs where I'm going. If so, I have to find an alternate entrance, ramp or elevator. There are places that I can no longer go, because of my limitations. Climbing to the top of the Statue of Liberty comes to mind and luckily I have no interest in doing that. However, even places that claim accessibility are often clueless and poorly suited for wheelchairs.
The average person over looks things like curbs, doors, and the dimensions of most things. I don't have the luxury of ignoring small obstacles, like curbs. Dining out also has the added stress of having to be fed (like a baby) in front of countless strangers and most tables at restaurants are either too high or too low to sit close to everyone else. I find shopping a headache, because most stores cram too much stuff into a space and it makes it near impossible to navigate a wheelchair, without knocking things over, crashing into people (who tend to be oblivious to presence wheelchairs) or access areas all together. Try wheeling around Claire's if you don't believe me, or 90% of women's clothing stores. These days, I much rather shop online than go out. Seeing all the cute things I can't wear, like shorts, skirts, bikinis and high heeled shoes, just irks me and the fact that I can't try anything on takes out all the fun for me. Many of my friends in chairs make light of things and are less sensitive and have the mind set that people in chairs can do everything, just in a different way. While there is some truth to that way of thinking, there is also the reality that there are things that people that can not walk, just can't do. Personally, I put quality before quantity and recognize the fact that no matter what I "do" it will be a compromise. I refuse to put myself through discomfort unless I feel the outcome is worth it, or because I have no choice. Everyone deals with paralysis differently and their personality and life before paralysis plays a big role in their life with paralysis. I think it's important to recognize everyone as an individual and realize that every person's coping skills are different.
Before my accident, I was on the go non stop. I spent a great deal of time in my car and juggled a lot of responsibilities, in addition to hanging out with friends and family. Spring 2005 was probably the most hectic time in my life. I was always pressed for time, but none the less very happy. At the time, I had my full time teaching career, my apartment, traveled back and forth to PA (to visit friends and boyfriend) almost every weekend, put on three art shows for my students, joined a gym, was attending bar tending school, and taking a graduate course. I still managed to go out and enjoy my free time and genuinely looked forward to spending time with my friends and family (especially my boyfriend). I loved to shop. Even when my down time was scarce, I'd hit the mall and do a little shopping. I never ran short on reasons to buy new clothes! Despite all my spending, I was responsible with my finances and had no debt. I just enjoyed giving gifts and having new things. I was not married and had no children and was making a good salary, so I had no regrets treating myself. I'd have to say, I hit the mall about once a week. Buying clothes was my all time favorite thing to do at the mall. I enjoyed seeing all the latest fashions and had fun trying on clothes. It was always fun and exciting for me to have new things to wear.
I was comfortable with going out by myself, but I preferred being with friends (or boyfriend) most of the time. I'm a people person. Crowds never bothered me, in fact I kind of liked the hustle and bustle of the city. The more people there are, the more interesting things there were to see. I used to go to Manhattan regularly during my college years, for assignments. I could spend the entire day just seeing the sites and watching other people. I loved the diversity of the city and the fast paced nature of the people. Even simple things, like taking the subway, were interesting and fun for me. I could spent hours wandering around the museums. It didn't seem to matter how often I went; there was always something new to see and favorite areas to explore.
I've always enjoyed dancing. I missed out on parties and dancing during my college years (due in part to an ex-boyfriend). I say "missed out" because there were many opportunities and invites to go out that I turned down. I would've loved to be more social in college, but my choice to be with my boyfriend (during college) kept me from going. The positives to staying at home more were having good grades and tremendous focus. However, once I was single again, I found a sense of freedom and exilleration that I had been missing. I went to clubs and bars occasionally on the weekends and had fun dressing up and letting loose. Hanging out with some of my friends required along drive, but it was worth it. Dancing was a perfect stress relief and I had a lot of laughs with my friends. I was usually up for doing almost anything and perferred to go out versus staying at home. Apart from shopping and going dancing, I enjoyed seeing all of the latest movies and spent a lot of time eating out.
I've always piled a lot of responsibilities on my plate, but somehow managed to balance everything fine. I was rather good at time management and being organized, which made it possible to have a life outside of career. When I was still living with my parents, I can remember them getting annoyed at the fact that I was hardly ever around. They felt I treated home as a hotel, and only stopped by to sleep and shower. For the most part, they were right. I've been on the go almost my whole life, bouncing back and forth between divorced parents. I had moved out once, before I had my own apartment. Moving back wit my parents after having lived independently felt awkward and suffocating. I didn't waste much time planning on getting my place. It's not that I have anything against my parents, I just prefer to be free andindependent. I liked the feeling of not having to depend on anyone and the freedom to come and go as I pleased.
The thing my parents didn't realize was how many extra hours I stayed at work, or how many projects I was working on. I was usually the first teacher to arrive, and the last to leave. I never minded putting in extra time, because I loved my job. I was never asked to do a lot of the extra things I did, but they were important to me, and I was happy to sacrifice my time. I wanted my classroom to run a certain way and I wanted to be flexible in helping with responsibilities around school. The year of my accident I put on three art shows, worked on two murals and ran the yearbook club. I attended school even and maintained an ever changing display of my students' work. I don't think anyone in my life (apart from my boyfriend) realized exactly how much I was balancing at the time. I was stressed out, but I was also very proud of my achievements and was happy with my life.
As you can imagine, my life changed drastically after my injury and there are countless aspects of my "old life," that I've lost, or no longer enjoy. My desire (or lack there of) to go out is a perfect example of how my injury has had an impact on my life. Since my accident, the thought of going out is comparable to having a root canal; something you have to do, despite the pain. My apartment has become a safe haven for me, where it is easier to cope with my situation. I have more control over what I let in and it's easier to block things out. In the nursing home I had no peace. I wasn't happy at "home" and I was scared to go out. My computer was my only window to the world and even that was bittersweet. Everything I see reminds me of what I had, what I have and what I want. Every good memory has become painful, to some degree. Every time I leave the security of my apartment I risk being bombarded by reminders of my past and feelings of jealousy, shame and regret over what I lost. I can't help but compare myself to all the people I see. I can't help but feel embarrassed by the help I need and jealous of all the things I see other people doing.
I force myself to go out, because I feel like it's the right thing to do. I have been given opportunities to help other people in my situation through my artwork and I feel obligated to do what I can. I know it's not healthy for anyone to be a hermit. We (humanity) all need to socialize and share experiences with other people. I realize that the only way to keep my friends is to be a part of their lives and contribute what I can to my relationships with them. My grandma sometimes gets sad when her friends tell her about all the wonderful things their grandkids are doing. I understand the resentment she sometimes feels, because I know how hard it is for me to feel happy for other people, while I'm feeling miserable about myself. It's those times that I remind her (and myself) that the world is not gong to stop, just because I got hurt and that friendship is about give and take. Yes, it sucks that I'm paralyzed, but my situation shouldn't over shadow everyone else's happiness. I can''t expect people to mope around over what happened to me, nor do I want them too. I try to put my sadness aside and be happy for my friends, because I realize that everything is not about me. I can't expect anyone to want to be around me, if all I ever do is cry, complain and focus on the negative. I often do things that make me uncomfortable for the sake of my friends and family. If I gave in to my emotions and refused to hangout because I didn't feel up to it, I'd never go anywhere. I could easily isolate myself within a bubble and eventually people would stop inviting me and making an effort to include me. I wouldn't blame them.
My aides, nurses, family and friends all encourage me to go out more than I do. It's not to say that I get no enjoyment from going out; it's just that every experience comes with it's own level of sadness, embarrassment or anger. I try to balance pros and cons in my mind before I decide what to do. There are just certain things that are so uncomfortable that the small amount of fun or excitement I might have is greatly out weighed by my discomfort. Events like weddings and baby showers are outings that rank high on my discomfort list. Therefor, I avoid them, unless the people involved are extremely important to me and worth the inner turmoil. A perfect example of this would be my best friend's wedding. Not only did I attend the wedding, but I had to face multiple fears and tackle new experiences. It was my first time traveling by airplane after my accident. It was my first time to Florida, since my accident. It was also the first time I had to spend a night away from home, since my accident. The trip came with a lot of emotional discomfort, stress and anxiety. I put my feelings aside and committed myself to going, because I knew how important it was to my friends (bride & groom). They had both made a lot of sacrifices for me and supported me more than anyone, the first year after my accident. I refused to let my situation be an excuse and met the challenge head on, for the sake of my friends. There are times when I feel like the outcome is more important than my personal feelings and that I'd be selfish to not participate. I try to remind myself of the bigger picture. If I can give something back to those that are constantly giving to me, I put my feelings aside. If I feel like I can help others by letting people into my comfort zone, I do it.
I think it's easy for people to forget or make light of how different everything is for me. I think it's hard for people close to me to understand why I seldom go out. They compare me to the "old Christina," that was super outgoing and always on the run . That Christina no longer exists. My accident has changed the way I see the world and my desires to interact within it. It's often the activities I used to love the most that now bother me the most. The average, some times mundane things can be stressful and not worth doing for me. Things like going to the mall, grocery shopping, doctor visits, hanging out with friends and going out to eat are common activities that most people take for granted, because they don't have all the extra concerns that I do. In some aspects, I know I can't expect people to understand things from my perspective, because they haven't lived it and often don't know enough about paralysis to consider it.
Every time I leave my apartment I have a long list of things to worry about. Not to mention the fact that I can not just pick up go, on a whim, like before. I can't just pop in my car and go. I need help getting ready. I need special equipment and a modified car (ideally) to help transport me. I always have stress and worry over my catheter and the possibility of incontinence. I also have to consider who can accompany me, or help me at my destination. I have to consider accessibility; whether or not there will there be stairs where I'm going. If so, I have to find an alternate entrance, ramp or elevator. There are places that I can no longer go, because of my limitations. Climbing to the top of the Statue of Liberty comes to mind and luckily I have no interest in doing that. However, even places that claim accessibility are often clueless and poorly suited for wheelchairs.
The average person over looks things like curbs, doors, and the dimensions of most things. I don't have the luxury of ignoring small obstacles, like curbs. Dining out also has the added stress of having to be fed (like a baby) in front of countless strangers and most tables at restaurants are either too high or too low to sit close to everyone else. I find shopping a headache, because most stores cram too much stuff into a space and it makes it near impossible to navigate a wheelchair, without knocking things over, crashing into people (who tend to be oblivious to presence wheelchairs) or access areas all together. Try wheeling around Claire's if you don't believe me, or 90% of women's clothing stores. These days, I much rather shop online than go out. Seeing all the cute things I can't wear, like shorts, skirts, bikinis and high heeled shoes, just irks me and the fact that I can't try anything on takes out all the fun for me. Many of my friends in chairs make light of things and are less sensitive and have the mind set that people in chairs can do everything, just in a different way. While there is some truth to that way of thinking, there is also the reality that there are things that people that can not walk, just can't do. Personally, I put quality before quantity and recognize the fact that no matter what I "do" it will be a compromise. I refuse to put myself through discomfort unless I feel the outcome is worth it, or because I have no choice. Everyone deals with paralysis differently and their personality and life before paralysis plays a big role in their life with paralysis. I think it's important to recognize everyone as an individual and realize that every person's coping skills are different.
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