June 2, 2013

  • Two Years of Life

    The night of June 1st serves as a wake up call.

    It helps me release my daily frustrations, forgive my bullies, and just be grateful.

    To be here.

     

    As almost all of you know, two years ago today I woke up in a hospital.  Two strangers found me on the train tracks.  My upper jaw had collapsed inward.  The doctors were convinced I had brain trauma.  Worst of all, no one found it worth investigating who had done this to me.  The moment they discovered a trace of alcohol in my system, I was to blame for what had happened.  Rather than keep my very worried parents informed, my host parents spurred all of their energies into trying to convince them I had done this to myself, that I had been drinking, that I deserved it.  They pounded the same message into me when they visited me at the hospital, and tried to convince my program to kick me out.  It was not a reassuring thing to wake up to.  The lack of support following my attack is what hurt me the most, leading to an eating disorder and a full break-down less than a year later.

    Two years later, that night does not haunt me anymore.  It serves only as a reminder that God saved my life for a reason.  It gives me a chance to reevaluate my current situation, and to check my priorities.

     

    This morning I cut off the Rheinkultur bracelet I had worn since my first day in Germany.  It is finally time to leave that chapter behind me.

    In a few hours, I am going to a Rockies game with Josh’s family.  It’s wonderful to have a family so graciously absorb me and include me like a daughter.  Josh’s mother has begun to confide in me, telling me recently of her losing battle with depression.  For her birthday a few days ago, I gave her the book which had been given to me in the hospital, The Brightest Star in the Sky.  That small gesture had given me hope and distraction in my darkest time, and I know it meant a lot to her.

    After the Rockies game, I’m going to one of the best restaurants in town with my mom, who is in town on a case.  As a result of the accident, my downward spiral, and eventual recovery, my mother and I are closer than ever.  In high school I had to see a counselor because I wasn’t on speaking terms with my mother; today I consider her my closest friend.

     

    I love all of you, and appreciate all of your support over the years.

     

    May

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