No tags yet.
It’s been a year, actually a little more, since my injury. That’s what I call it, my injury. For me, it’s hard to define it as anything else. It is definitely not my choice, but it’s also not my accident. I had little to no control in the event that led to my injuries, my life-changing disaster. Coping with the effect has been arduous. Coping with the cause is another thing altogether. Through this process, this coping, and this recovery, my eyes have been opened to the vulnerability of the human self and form. It is so natural for us to armor and protect ourselves and others. We do it with words, with actions, with machines. We do it by taking control and shutting out. But I think the reality is that vulnerability is unavoidable in any given situation. We can embrace it and accept it, or deny its existence and fall victim to ignorance and unhappiness.
It is entirely impossible not to put your life into the hands of another. There are many capacities in which we, as any make of individual living in this world, put our health, our happiness, or our livelihood into someone else’s hands. We place our beginning lives into the hands of our mothers, fathers, and caregivers. We place our mental health into the hands of relationships and friendships. We rely on local and national leaders to keep us safe, keep us strong, and keep us living another day. We count on so many things to keep us going. We, as people, are vulnerable. That is, in fact, what makes us human.
Realizing this vulnerability is a precious thing, because once we realize our level of susceptibleness, life can be lived in a different way. Realizing your vulnerability is to live every moment. It can all change in an instant. My life, and my story, are direct examples of that. In my life I can’t help but feel exposed, and at times defenseless. I’m more vulnerable now than ever before, but I’m also stronger. Stronger in mind, body, and soul.
For me, being vulnerable is also being honest with myself. Obscuring how I feel muddles my thoughts beyond comprehension, until they reach the boiling point. My vulnerability is my fear, and that’s okay. I’m scared for my future. I’m afraid of all the things I might miss out on as time goes by. I’m afraid of all the things I might miss out on because I’m different than most. I’m afraid of losing more than I already have. I’m afraid of it all, really. I try every day to not live in complete fear, sometimes in success and sometimes in failure. My weakness is also my strength, for accepting it opens me up to experiences and consequences that wouldn’t have happened otherwise. I’ve lived an incredible life, but were plenty of moments where I denied my vulnerability. There were chances I didn’t take. There were places I didn’t go. There were people I shut out. All because I feared the effect. You can build a wall up around yourself as impenetrable as you like, but it’s all going to tumble down sooner or later.
You can’t compare someone’s recovery to your own, just like you can’t compare your life to another. We each have a different story, a different struggle. It’s easy for me to reflect on recent events in my life and feel like there couldn’t be anything worse, like it’s the end, and that my life is completely and totally unfair. Then I turn on the news, or I venture outside, and realize how outlandish and unnecessary those feelings are. Our world is full of tragedies and hardships happening every day. Mine are miniscule compared to the enormity of so many others.
I think in some way I thought this marker of time would bring something new to my recovery, that after a year I would come to terms with my life because so much time has passed. What I’ve realized is that my inner struggle continues. I wait for the day when I truly feel like myself again, although I’m slowly becoming to realize that may never happen. Each day gets physically easier, but that’s the only way, for each day is a reminder of how much that’s changed, and how changed I am. I’m a combination of all the experiences I have allowed to come into my life, I have created for myself, and those that have entered without my approval. That’s just the way that it works. Disasters are a part of the human experience. Acceptance is something that happens through these disasters, and it can be a truly rewarding effect.
Of all the things that change, all the disasters that are put in your path, and the waves of emotions in life, it’s adamant to realize the importance of your individual. The most unbreakable bond you have is the one you hold with yourself. Accepting yourself, with your strengths, weaknesses, and differences, is necessary. It’s about being content with who you are in your vulnerability, and coming to terms with it. This is me, this is who I am. My journey may be similar to some, but it is unlike anyone else’s. For me, my marker of time is more of a beginning. Beginning to see how strong I actually am. Beginning to see the world in a different way. Beginning to adapt. Beginning to accept the new me.