They say the road back to "normality" is a long winding multi hair pinned affair, that you'll struggle to see the positive changes as you navigate the road, that you may even notice things you were unaware of before you began the journey and these things you'd much rather you hadn't noticed about yourself and doubly so of others. Of course I can only speak for myself and my experiences travelling that long lonely desolate road and how it was both immensely challenging and painful to find my way back to being me, well the me which I remember and remember fondly.
My "Journey" started the day I almost died and although I still can't quite believe it all happened, it most certainly did happen. The doctors all said the same thing that I was 'phenomenally lucky' that 'It's a miracle' or some other variation of that. My favorite 'One in a million would have been able to control themselves while simultaneously also trying to shut off their bodies natural reactions during the adrenaline dump of your instinctual fight or flight response' That one really tickled my sense of irony. I should have died but what saved me was that I didn't get worked up and that I never panicked, because let's face it you only panic in a life or death situation when you want to live more than anything else. You see that's my truth of the whole situation, I barely even reacted at all. I felt I'd finally got the "out" I'd spent most of my thirties chewing on and right there, when I had accepted that this was it, that I no longer had to worry about life and all the hurt and pain that go hand in hand with it and since I was now finally allowed to give up on life and accept the end as it comes. I wanted nothing more than to fight, I wanted to survive. I desperately wanted to see my daughter one last time. So then it was time to make sure I didn't die which was a complete one eighty from not a moment before when I was welcoming death with an open smile, a sigh of relief which dropped my shoulders with the weight of the tension. Now my hackles were up and now I was willing to fight, fight to the death if need be, but fight I would. Fight I did.
Of course I can only speak for myself and my experiences travelling that long lonely desolate road and how it was both immensely challenging and painful to find my way back to being me, well the me which I remember and remember fondly.
My "Journey" started the day I almost died and although I still can't quite believe it all happened, it most certainly did happen.
The doctors all said the same thing that I was 'phenomenally lucky' that 'It's a miracle' or some other variation of that.
My favorite 'One in a million would have been able to control themselves while simultaneously also trying to shut off their bodies natural reactions during the adrenaline dump of your instinctual fight or flight response'
That one really tickled my sense of irony.
I should have died but what saved me was that I didn't get worked up and that I never panicked, because let's face it you only panic in a life or death situation when you want to live more than anything else.
You see that's my truth of the whole situation, I barely even reacted at all.
I felt I'd finally got the "out" I'd spent most of my thirties chewing on and right there, when I had accepted that this was it, that I no longer had to worry about life and all the hurt and pain that go hand in hand with it and since I was now finally allowed to give up on life and accept the end as it comes.
I wanted nothing more than to fight, I wanted to survive.
I desperately wanted to see my daughter one last time.
So then it was time to make sure I didn't die which was a complete one eighty from not a moment before when I was welcoming death with an open smile, a sigh of relief which dropped my shoulders with the weight of the tension.
Now my hackles were up and now I was willing to fight, fight to the death if need be, but fight I would.
Fight I did.