Her car slammed into the back of mine. She was going 45 mph, and she didn’t even try to stop. She said she didn’t see me. She was taking her blood thinners, reaching for her water, and didn’t look up until her car was tangled with mine.
After a trip to the ER for what I thought was whiplash, and turned out to be a sprained neck with nerve pain, so I settled in at home. Muscle relaxers, ice packs, and friends to help, and bring coffee have filled my days with recovering. I have had more time to lay around than I ever wanted. But also more love than I ever expected came pouring in. I didn’t want to tell anyone. I didn’t want to make a fuss. I don’t like being the center of attention, yet here I am being taken care of. I’m not sure what is worse, the numbness in my limbs from swelling, or the bruised esophagus making it hard to eat, and talk, and breathe. Or is it the sadness of not being able to do all of the many things that I usually handle on my own? Perhaps.
I have still worked when I could. Ten minutes here, fifteen minutes there, increments of time that I use to try to support my daughter and I. I hate the alone feeling that I have when I’m laying in the quiet, and my husband is no longer here. So I try to read. Then I try to knit. Then I try to write. Then I work on a few other odd jobs, but never get enough done. I seem okay to most people who look at me. Really I am so sore, and tired, and just so drained. Mentally, emotionally, and physically drained has become my life, yet there always seems to be more draining to come.
Tomorrow, my daughter and I go on a road trip to see her doctors in another state. My leg has been numb for hours, and it makes me question if I will even be able to take care of her. It’s so frustrating. I don’t understand why my life has been allowed to take so much from me. I question God about it. I hear nothing. I question myself, did I fuck up somewhere? Still no answers.
So I recover. That has become my life, recovering. Recovering from emotional abuse, recovering from lost dreams, recovering from health problems, and a sad divorce, recovering from a tangle of crashes in my life. Will it ever stop? I question again, and again. Oh God, I really hope so.
If it doesn’t stop I know this, I am strong. Stronger than I have been in years. My body holds up pretty well to all the trauma. My mind bounces back. My emotions come and go, but I manage. I always manage. Because this is what I have been conditioned for, recovering. I build myself up, so that every time I bounce back a little quicker. I come back stronger. I come back more alive. Because this is me, resilient, and strong. It is who I have become, and while I don’t like the pain that has occurred in any area of my life. I am grateful for the strength that it has produced.