I’m sitting here, on the night before my first accident-iversary (it’s a word people use—I googled it to see if I made it up or not) and I’m attempting to write something eloquent about time passing and about the fact that it has been one year since my accident. Every time I think I have something decent, I read it back to find that it sounds artificial—it sounds like I’m trying to hide what I really want to say. So I imagine what I’m about to write isn’t going to be eloquent—it may not even be well written—but I can pretty much guarantee that it will be what I want to say.
Category: Just Me
Gaining perspective is an incredibly ruthless business. A simple test of perspective would be looking at the photo above…a wheelchair, a woman and a woman in a wheelchair. Does your point of view of the wheelchair change when you see the woman in it? Or do your ideas of the woman change when you see her in the wheelchair? Recently, in a conversation with a friend, I told her that my accident has given me a lot of perspective…on raising kids, marriage, the world and all types of relationships. Her response to that was to say that she had zero desire to go through what I went through in order get that perspective. (Yeah…me too!) The entire process of looking at our past with the knowledge of our present can be quite painful sometimes. It can feel like we were selfish, spoiled or completely stupid. But I’ve been thinking about how viewpoints can be changed and if there is any way to achieve it without going through something significant; something traumatic. Continue reading “Perspective Is Everything”
Like every mother, I grew in to my role as ‘Mommy’. It’s a role every one of us plays differently and most days it would be a hell of a lot easier if it were scripted. But whether we are handed a tiny newborn, taking the hand of a skeptical toddler or welcoming a child or teen into our life, we all become ‘Mom’ pretty quickly after meeting our children. Thankfully we don’t need to know everything right away. We learn and develop as our children do and there is a comforting feeling, a feeling of home, in our own little family’s routines, expectations and traditions. It becomes natural, automatic, familiar and ‘ours. It becomes our motherhood; it becomes our children’s childhood. Continue reading “A Crack In My Motherhood”
Do memories fade or do they really last forever? I suppose I keep hoping it’s a bit of both. The memories that evoke anxiety will go black; those that make me sad will maybe just lose their colour; and those that make me smile will stay vivid and clear. I have always had a good memory and have never been able to decide if it’s a blessing or a curse. I certainly carry a lot of useless information inside my head but it also feels like I have my entire life on a flash drive up there. I remember moments, dates, arguments, dreams and nightmares. I have a lot of happy stored inside of me. And I have a lot of pain. Continue reading “Remembering Her”
From the instant I fell, my world stopped.
“The surgery went well, but the damage was extensive and you will probably never walk again.” Continue reading “Waking Up”