PSA: From victims to victors

Five thousand, four hundred seventy-eight days—or 15 years ago—a driver, impaired with nearly three times the legal alcohol blood concentration in Arizona, runs no less than two red lights before slamming his white Dodge Ram into the driver’s side of my husband’s two-month-old black Honda Civic. Each August, on this day, I relive those memories, snapshots strung together that recount our story: Police ring my doorbell to deliver the news. My 12-year-old daughter and I arrive at the Level 1 trauma hospital where my husband undergoes emergency surgery and spends the next 59 days reclaiming his life. Over time, our family learns to navigate a new normal amidst the deficits resulting from a diffuse TBI, crushed hip and other myriad physical, emotional and mental trauma. Heartaches and highlights serve as milestones that color our collective journey from victims to victors. And it’s on the anniversary of my husband’s “death” and “re-birthday,” that I once again implore readers to make the right choice: don’t drink and drive.

When life doesn’t make sense

Platitudes like, “You’re never given more than you can handle,” or “There’s a reason for everything,” fall on deaf ears when you’re smack dab in the middle of a crisis. No one ever promised we wouldn’t be required to deal with a tragedy we’re ill-equipped to handle. And right now I cannot think of a single reason why a healthy, vibrant, beloved wife, mother, grandma and friend would be struck down in the prime of her life. I have yet to understand the reasons behind the trials my family has suffered. But I’d like to believe there is a greater purpose in the scheme of things—a method to what seems like madness. Of course, we can let the uncertainties paralyze us from living, or we can rest in the knowledge that if it all made sense, we might miss opportunities to grow and to make a difference in the lives of others. Isn’t that the bottom line in life?

How do you make sense of it all?

Image courtesy of dan at FreeDigitalPhotos.net.

Throwing in the (proverbial) towel

[Image credit: FrameAngel]

One of my friends said I don’t go looking for drama; drama shows up at my doorstep.  I used to think my life was boring—monotonous even.  And then a tragedy struck my family nine years ago and nothing has been the same since.  Right now, I could really use some monotony.  However, one positive outcome of all the drama is a far-from-empty story coffer.  Because that’s the stuff books are made of—real life accounts that real people can relate to—trials, unrequited love, pain, sorrow, joy, adventure.  Through the characters in the books we read, we can either share similar experiences, live vicariously or even be thankful our daily lives are less scarred or messy.  And as much as I want to throw in the towel at times and declare, “I quit,” I know that one day my stories will be even more believable.  But until I’m published, I’ll simply grab my towel and keep heading to yoga.

What triggers you to throw in the towel?

A feeling of helplessness

[Image credit: Salvatore Vuono]

There have been instances in my life where I’ve felt helpless.  When I knew that nothing I said or did would affect an outcome.  Soul-wrenching grief.  If I could have stayed under the safety of my bed covers until the universe righted itself, I would’ve been the first to raise my hand in agreement.  Loss and I are no strangers.  One time, a year or so after a tragedy touched my family, I ran into an old acquaintance who knew that story.  “You don’t look any different,” she’d said.  I laughed off the comment then, acknowledging that I was, indeed, the same person.  But that was only a partial truth.  To the naked eye, there were no visible changes, but on the inside there were many broken spots.  After all, to go through a catastrophic event unscathed would be unlikely.  And yet, the essence of me remains.  Except a few cracks that still require mending.

Describe a time in your life when you’ve felt helpless in your circumstances.

We will never forget

[Image credit: kidfreeliving.com]

In my post entitled Refocusing our attention, I talk about finding a cause to take our minds off ourselves while we’re waiting for Someday to roll around.  Or perhaps we should simply reach out for one of the many readily available opportunities to make an impact beyond our own sphere of influence.  Today, as we remember the tragedy that struck our nation, I reflect on the aftermath and how the country rallied together to become one in its efforts to heal.  From the service personnel to volunteers to the families left behind — as well as those extending goodwill, prayers and monetary relief efforts — we were a people who temporarily set aside our differences to do what was necessary to get back on our feet.  It would be wonderful if this was a customary action rather than a reaction.  We will never forget 9/11.  And maybe we also need to remember what it looked like to share a common goal.

Where were you when the Twin Towers were struck?