Forgiveness

Eight years ago, I was hit while running a simple errand in my SUV by a drunk driver. In the years since then I have seen every type of doctor and healer you can imagine (or close to it), had surgery, PT, procedures, consulted chiropractic and acupuncture, prayed, gone to therapy, cried. I have done the work time and time again to fight the physical and mental anguish caused by a crash that totaled my car and part of me. Yet, the work is never really done.

I have forgiven the driver in open court once and in my heart and mind a million times. Somewhere along the way, I started blaming myself for not healing properly or gaining the strength back to fight the reminders of that day.

Every six months to a year, I become nearly paralyzed with physical pain from nerve damage in my back. The return of the electrical fires down my spine cause me to crumble in its embers. There are times I fight back like a huge fire house on a small stove top fire, while there are times I succumb to the heat as if no extinguisher can be found before the flames gobble up the entire house.

This past year in particular, I was enveloped in the raging fire. Rather than calling 911, I tried dousing it with alcohol (you know what that does to fire, right?), feeding the flames with junk food (who wants burnt junk food), screaming, crying, hiding in the stories of the lives of real housewives (Beverly Hills and NYC are my faves), and periodically blowing on it like candles on a birthday cake. Needless to say, none of this worked in response. I was engulfed in my own personal hell, and it was quickly becoming that of 10 alarm legends.

When my back gives way to my nerve endings shooting pain, I also give way. I become depressed, knowing I can't walk without a shock from each step. This body of mine becomes a jail cell, a life sentence for which there is no chance for parole. I am angry and sad and disappointed. If I do everything right to care for myself and seek out the help of the best in the business, why do I keep finding myself here? The struggle is real, friends. And it is maddening. You can't explain to others how much it affects your daily life or how much it hurts. And I seriously feel guilty that I.m not strong enough to simply get over it. Yes, my back aches, my legs are burning, and my feet are going numb, but my heart is weeping and my mind is telling me to just give up already. How many times am I going to "treat" this before I wave the white flag and simply give up?

Here is where my bad choices come in - the ones of self doubt and self pity. When you want to numb the hurt, rather than treat it, you do the stupid stuff. And let me tell ya, if you choose the stupid stuff enough, your body starts waging different wars against you, you're less fun to be around (or maybe even unbearable), and the whole self doubt and self pity thing becomes a whole lot bigger.

I went from fighting fires to trying to keep myself from drowning in my own tears. I am a highly emotional and feeling person. I cry a lot in comparison to others regardless of my mental state, but let's just say that I could've solved California's drought problems with the amount of tears I've shed in 2018 alone. When my hubby called me out on it - the massive increase in crying, that is - I knew it was serious. I thought I was hiding it well (like in the shower or bathroom). But my internal struggles were becoming evident externally - through my tears, anger, and poorly sought coping mechanisms. The medicines I was choosing were now magnifying my pain, rather than helping me to push through to the other side. I was suffering from all the adverse effects.

This acknowledgement is how I first came to the decision to lose weight. To take on the muffin top would give me a positive goal and some focus, pushing me to make all sorts of healthier decisions. But due to that desire to lose weight and get physically healthy, I was also forced to examine all the reasons I was not living my best life.

That crash was not my fault, and my physical pain is not my own doing or failing. My poor responses to those triggers, though, require me to take some accountability. They don't have to remain self sabotaging. I can change that.

I'm sorry, Grace. I let you down. When you needed encouragement, I fed you the lie that you are not worth the fight. I told you to sit back down, because you are not strong enough to carry the weight of your burdens. I let you think God walked out. But I am here today to tell you that not only are you worth it, but your ability to make a comeback has never been more evident. With such love, devotion, and faith, you will achieve successes you haven't yet had the courage to dream. You are a wonderful mother and doting wife. You are a thoughtful sister and caring daughter. You are a generous friend, and have tremendous work ethic. YOU ARE AMAZING, GRACE. It is time to believe it.