An Open Letter to My Friends and Family
In a post on Facebook earlier today, I noted that I have a hard time with a mindset that harbors unresolved anger. Which, for me, is very odd, because in the past, I’ve had no problem harboring secret dreams of revenge or feelings of ill will towards others. I’ve struggled with it on and off all of my life. Something about having a very close brush with death changed that, though. I simply can’t find it within myself to be angry for very long. Even when someone deserves said anger.
This thinking led to a very simple concept in my mind. I simply don’t give a damn. There’s nothing that important that I have to hold on to it and let it poison my own mind or heart. I’ve attempted to move through the world with an open heart, but sometimes I would get bogged down with the details. I can’t seem to do that these days, the details are just… meh. The negative details, that is.
Sure, there are days when I wake up and my leg is screaming and all I can think is, “You know, this didn’t have to happen this way!” But then I curl up with my teddy bear and remind myself that it hurts because it’s still a viable limb, and I’m still alive to feel it. I’ve come to accept the injury for what it is, and while I may push myself a little too hard every once in a while, for the most part, I’m just going forward the best I can.
However, I didn’t get to this place of clarity on my own. No way, no how. Left to my own devices, in the beginning, I may have very well killed myself. I certainly wanted to. I figured out what a fatal dose of Vicodin was for my body weight and spent many days and nights counting them out and wondering how I could take that many without getting sick to my stomach. I woke up in the middle of the night many times and wondered if I snuck down the stairs and out the door, would anyone hear me? Could I manage to actually drive to the highway and throw myself over an overpass? Or drive my car to the same spot of the accident, but at 110mph? Every single one of these thoughts crossed my mind on an almost daily basis.
Having my independence taken away from me has been a dramatic blow to my psyche. This has been a very trying period. Being dependent upon others has been one of the most difficult things to do, and I fully admit that I have not always done it gracefully. Most of us, in the worst of times, are not the most graceful creatures. However, I have always striven to be graceful, and grateful. I am also a firm believer in public acknowledgment of gratitude and humility. The words “thank you” are not said often enough.
With that, I give you all the following bits of thanks and gratitude.
To my immediate household:
Drew and Stephanie, thank you so much for all that you have done. The trips to the store, bringing me lunch and dinner when I couldn’t get down there to get it myself, sitting and talking with me when I was down. I love you very much. You will both always have a place in my world, no matter how far my journey takes me, or you.
My darling Crickett, I know coming home from summer vacation and having to immediately start running errands for your messed up mom was not fun. Thank you for helping out, for helping me with chores, and for being an all around great girl. I was really afraid that we’d continue fighting when you came home, and was very happy to see that wasn’t the case. You are a phenomenal girl and I love you very much.
Jim, I will never be able to thank you enough for all that you have done. Thank you for giving me a soft place to land when my life went to hell in a hand-basket. No matter how far apart we may find ourselves, I will always have your back. Anytime, anyplace, anything. All you have to do is call.
My family so very far away:
Drew and Zach, you are the most awesome sons a mother could ever ask for. Thank you for making me proud and for calling and checking on me. I love you.
Dawn, I miss you so much. Thank you for being there and making me smile.
All my cousins (you know your names) thanks for the words of encouragement and the love and prayers. I love you all.
To my two oldest and dearest friends:
Stephanie and Lucy, no matter how many miles apart we are, you have both remained an integral part of my life. I’m so glad we found a way to reconnect and keep in touch, I would be truly lost without you. I love you both so very much.
To my very cool and totally awesome J gang:
John K, thank you for doing what needed to be done. I know it was hard and stressful, but we are moving forward now. Thanks for the encouragement and the friendship. You will always be The Dude in my book.
John T, thanks for the giggles and laughs. You always have the right thing to say or show me when I’m down.
John B, thank you for stopping in to see me and check up on me. I miss hanging out and can’t wait till we can all get together and play trivia again. Hopefully soon! And the venison stew? So totally rocked!
The other John K, well, you are the new guy in this insane world of mine, but I’m happy to have you as part of the group. Thank you for coming and picking my gimpy self up and taking me out of the house when I need it. I wish we had met in person before I got all messed up so you would have had a chance to know the independent girl who once got stuck on her own roof because she’s so stubborn.
Jen, I miss you babe. Thanks for the texts and phone calls. I can’t wait to see you again.
Non J gang members who deserve special notice:
Bill, who is not a J but was with us when the name was coined, I can’t thank you enough for the rides and the company to the doctor all the time. You are the best! One day I hope I’ll be able to repay you for your kindness.
Chris, it’s hard to believe an email thread from RnR would produce such a wonderful friendship, but here we are. Thanks for listening, for being there, and for coming all the way from West ByGod Virginia to drive my crippled butt around!
Tina, I know you won’t see this, but thank you all the same for coming by and checking up on me and reminding me that even stubborn and willful women need help sometimes. I truly miss you.
To my girlfriends, without whom I’d be crazy:
Sherry, you totally rock my world. I know you’ve been going through a tough time, but you still manage to cheer me up whenever I see you. Thanks for being a good friend.
Jeannie, thank you for the compassion and understanding. You are probably the only person who truly understands what I’m going through, and you’ve been a great friend and shoulder to lean on.
Melanie, thank you so much for the surprise package and the unwavering friendship. Mostly, thank you for reminding me how much worse my life could be. I giggle every time I switch channels now and see those crazy talk shows on.
Fran, thank you for always checking up on me and making sure I’m alive and haven’t gone completely insane yet. When I finally get back out your way, we are grabbing Jeannie and tearing the town up!
Penny and Louise, the package you sent was really just amazing. Thank you, thank you! The post it note on the Cosmo was a riot! I miss you both and can’t wait to get back to the office.
To the numerous people online who have sent me encouraging emails, texts, and even phone calls:
Kathy, Dave, John W, Dawn, Joe, Meagan, Melissa, Christopher, Matt, Tess, Larry, Peter, Steve, Shannon, and far too many more to list… thank you all for your confidence in my recovery and consistent words of encouragement. I’m grateful for all of you.
If I missed you, it wasn’t intentional, I promise. It’s important to me to acknowledge each and every one of you, because without all of you, I would have never survived this mess. Some of you are too far away for me to ever hug and thank in person, but know that you are always in my heart. For those of you local to me, don’t be surprised if you are tackled with hugs when I can finally walk again.
Looking over this list, I realize how truly blessed I am. The sheer number of people who have shown compassion and encouragement is mind boggling. If wealth is counted by the number of people who care for you, I am a wealthy woman indeed. I love you all so very much.
Thank you, thank you, thank you.
October 9th, 2009 at 8:11 pm
I have a hug for you, I’m gonna deliver it in person, soon
October 9th, 2009 at 10:14 pm
Really?!?! I’m so excited, I can hardly contain myself!
October 9th, 2009 at 11:15 pm
Sweet! You’re welcome, Sabre, and THANK YOU for being as patient as you could while I did the right thing. Yes, definitely moving forward, and (of course!) remaining friends through a very tough *ahem* ride
It’s certainly changed my life, too. In a good way 
Glad we both made it through to see more pub quiz nights! 
The Dude
October 9th, 2009 at 11:21 pm
I am very independent at heart as well. About two years ago, an eye disease took that away from me. For the first 3 months, I was unable to look at any kind of light source. Even the light source of a television from across the room was extremely painful. Plus, I lost my ability to focus at the time. For nearly a year after, I was unable to drive and to this day, there are days where I know if I spend more than 15 minutes outside when it’s bright and sunny, the next day I will have serious repercussions to deal with.
For me, that was a major blow, not only because I am a programmer, but only 2 weeks before the whole ordeal started, I left my job to start my own company. It was the first time ever in my life that I had to accept that not only did I need help, but I was at the mercy of others. It also made me stop and rethink everything. At some point in my life, I may go blind. At some point in my life, the disease will begin to affect other organs in my body. What will I do for work? My career would be over, I wouldn’t even be able to telecommute. I had to rethink everything.
I am in a better spot that I was 2 years ago. I still have really bad days where my eyes need to be kept dilated to ease the pain, but it’s something that I will need to deal with the rest of my life. It’s something that won’t let me forget and has “opened my eyes” (pun intended) to a lot of things in life.
In some ways, I think most people at some point goes through something like this. Something that makes them put everything in perspective that has real consequences that will never go away. Something that cannot be taken back. A scar on your psyche that if you learn to live with can help you grow in more ways that anyone could have imagined. A scar physically as a reminder so you will never forget.
P.S. Why is it that the year I decide to get my motorcycle license, I have two of my friends get into serious accidents.
October 9th, 2009 at 11:51 pm
It’s amazing the things we learn when our wings are temporarily taken away, isn’t it? Learning to lean on others has been the hardest lesson of all. In time the scars will fade, but the memory will remain. And hopefully the lessons. I hope to come through this with a better acceptance of my own imperfections and an understanding that sometimes it takes more strength to ask for help than to refuse it.