June 1, 2012

• The Anniversary of My Second Chance

  Today is June 1st, 2012.  There was nothing special about today.  I spent the morning driving home from the lake with my parents, my old host-sister, Clara, and two of her friends.  I spent a lot of time reorganizing my room when I got home, taking books out of boxes, dragging furniture downstairs for an up-coming garage sale.  It was rainy, but warm.

  On June 1st, 2011, I was cornered, attacked, and dumped on a lonely railroad track in Germany.  I tried calling my hostmother for help, but she didn’t answer the phone, and I blacked out.  Someone sitting in the train on the next track happened to spot me in the dark, and with assistance, pulled me up and called an ambulance.  Less than five minutes later, a non-stop ICE train thundered over the track where I had lain.

  On June 2nd, 2011, I awoke in the hospital.  I would tell you that I was missing my two front teeth, but in reality the remains of most of them had been shoved through my jaw into my nose.  The entire front portion of my jaw was shattered like pottery.  I was told that I was under strict observation, because the doctors were certain I sustained brain trauma.  My host parents, Clara’s parents, the family who I had come to love as my own, came to visit.  I reached out for comfort, but instead all I heard was

  Look what you’ve done!  You’ve gone and let this happen to you.  Now you may be thrown out of the program.  If only you hadn’t been out drinking and partying, none of this would have happened.  You’ve ruined your life – this is all your fault.

  They felt the need to comfort my parents – still in America and in agony knowing my situation – in the same manor.

  Yes, she is in the hospital, but more importantly we read her diary and think she was drinking.  It’s such a shame she did this to herself. 

  I’m sure that was what they cared about?  That my host-parents felt I was fully to blame?  Not my current well being?  (the answer is, actually, my parents fully resent the host-parents).

   

  I left the hospital a day later when, to everyone’s surprise, it was determined that I had not even suffered a concussion.  In the car-ride, my host-mother again tutted

  I know you are in pain, but I hope you accept the gravity of this.  What happened to you is all because of your own actions.  You were asking for it.  You deserved it.  What happened to you is your responsibility.  You are to blame.

   

   

  These words have haunted me.  They have caused me more pain than any of the reconstruction surgery, than any of the moments where I lacked confidence, than any of the times I was afraid to open my mouth to smile.

   

  But a year later, these words, they don’t affect me.  Because I know these words are not true.  I know the truth – I know that I was giving a friend math tutoring in a neighboring village, that I did have two drinks, that I was followed by a stranger, that I resisted, and that I lost.  To say the attack is my fault for drinking moderately – as most young people legally do every single day – is like saying every college student that had ever had a drink deserves the same fate.  It’s saying, every girl who wears a skirt deserves to be raped.  Every car driver, an accident.  What happened to me was a random act of violence.  Some people convince themselves that things like that only happen to people who somehow deserve it as a way of protecting themselves from the reality that it could just as easily happen to them.

   

  I no longer feel guilty for what happened.  I’m moving forward in my life.  Counseling has helped me deeply, as has a new, strengthened relationship with my real parents.

   

  I have learned a lot from the experience – I have learned to stand on my own, to be strong for myself, when even the people I thought loved me most abandon me.  I have learned to take special care of any friend who is drinking, or in any way vulnerable.  I have developed a self-confidence that stems from more than my appearance.  I’ve been brave through every surgery, and never given into thoughts of giving up.  I am a more compassionate person, a more insightful person, and a more mature person than I was a year ago.

   

  I’ve been blessed to have a second chance at life.  Even this past year, I’ve experience college for the first time.  I’ve made friends for life.  I’ve fallen in love.  I’ve tasted sushi and pho and bison.  I’ve seen a shark for the first time.  I’ve kissed in the rain and been held during a thunder storm.  I’ve been in marching band, in dance team, in the honors program.  I’ve lived.  And I can’t wait to see how beautiful the rest of my life will be.

   

   

   

  May

   

  

  ^ me on the right, two days ago.  I must say, my post-surgery smile is growing on me!

  • 11:52 pm
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