I feel every minute of my story – from the introduction to being a survivor to how love saves to wholeness to the conclusion. I feel it. I have never not felt it.
I was a reluctant storyteller. I wanted to put a lot of distance between myself and what happened. For a while I was known as the girl from the car accident and I didn’t like my newly acquired fame as insignificant as it was. Enduring a year of starting over each day and to have people know you around town as that girl were suffocating. I never wanted to be known as someone that was devastated. Never.
So, I was reluctant for a long time. Not because I hated talking about it. Not because I wanted to pretend like it never happened. It wasn’t like that at all. Surgeries, physiotherapy, and 50 billion appointments later I was tired. It was in front of me all the time. I needed to live my life.
My life. It was mine for better or for worse. I was going to do whatever it took to establish some normalcy and I was going to cross any ocean to have joy again. I knew joy and I wanted it back. Lucky me – joy found me.
Time gave me the distance I craved. Not long after my daughter was born my story – this chapter of my life anyway – was tapping me on the shoulder. God was whispering, it’s time. Ready or not I was coming out of hiding.
A good friend of mine asked me to share my story to a crowd of two thousand raising money for a cause near and dear to my heart. I had five minutes and it was an incredible five minutes. Five minutes I’ll never forget.
It was the trigger to a lot of storytelling. It’s more than storytelling though. I share my story. When I’m up there I am sharing my life and what happened and what I learned and how to fight with whomever is listening.
I haven’t been doing it as often lately. In fact it has been very quiet for the last few months. I share bits of it here on this blog – this space. It’s another way of sharing my story. I’m not sure when it became important to share. It isn’t therapeutic for me. I was asked and then I felt compelled and then I loved reaching people.
It takes some vulnerability to share. When I’m speaking I’m sharing my loss, my grief and how I found my way through. When I put out that post and Scott’s words I freaked out. Not that day, but the next day. I thought this is too much. This is sacred and I’m putting it out there. When I’m speaking I have some control over how it’s taken in. It’s easy to say what you mean and not have it up for varying interpretations. I have control over my words here, but it’s different. You can’t hear my voice. So I freaked out and after I read Suz’s comment, then Kate’s comment…I thought this is okay. It’s going to be okay.
When I started this blog part of its purpose was to, hopefully, inspire. Because if I can do it you can. People can endure a hell of a lot and come out the other side. Part of this is that. I don’t have a lot of rules here, but I have one that is a must. I must stay true to who I am. Scattered or with purpose or wordy or vulnerable or about nothing at all it is all me. Me sharing.
In Wall E
And my kids’ reactions to it. We saw it in the theatre and fell in love. Now we own it and my three year old, Benjamin, can’t get enough. I have limited it to once a day. Once a day he is watching Wall E and I think that might be too much. If I would let him have it his way it would start over the minute it ended. It’s a great movie though. One of the best movies I’ve seen in a while and that’s saying a lot because I can’t stand cartoons. Thank God for the geniuses at Pixar.