Hit By 3,000lbs

Posted by elaundra

I think the hardest part of the entire ordeal was the reality. Looking back, I don’t remember how I made it through. I can give you things I made mistakes on. Things I fell short on. And things I wished didn’t happen. For me to find gratitude is sometimes hard. There’s a blessing everywhere. For everything. But when you are angry at yourself for going through something you weren’t prepared to handle and you are already so critical of the very things that make you who you are; you don’t realize how long it takes to heal. It takes no time to hate yourself. But so much more time to love who you are.

I would go to the shower and cry. Just walk to the shower just to stand there crying. It was that howl like a wolf. I smothered my face. ‘Be quiet’ I told myself. I didn’t want to wake anyone up. But I just couldn’t help it. Why did I feel the way I did. Too scared to tell anyone how I really felt. I felt so much shame. Wanting to pick up the phone and talk. Just get my mind off of the pain. I thought that if someone was in my presence would they want to see that I wasn’t in additional pain? Or would they want to see me with the added pain feature? Often wondering which way to turn, I started asking myself how I felt about me. Really wondering why was I so upset.

I was mad at the fact that I had to feel all of this. There was no masking it with a feeling of love. There was no masking it with drugs. That wasn’t something I leaned on naturally. More of a fitness and health oriented person, I knew my psyche needed cleansing. There was no hiding it with hatred. I just felt numb. I began trying to put my life back together once again. But I just couldn’t. Staying in a shelter was not serving me. The people that surrounded me were not as warm as I would have liked. They talked like they had jokes behind their eyes. And I acted like I had peace in my corner and refused to allow them to see the deeper parts of my soul. I didn’t trust some of the people closest to me. I wanted to get close to them but I felt that their questioning the validity of my trauma was going to detriment us ever having a relationship. And it did. The demons that were on my back were fighting with me alone. I gave into my strength and cut my stitches out myself. They said 10 days. So I did it at 14 just to be safe. I didn’t even want to go after the very reason I did that in the first place. But if I just let the truth stand there and not move, it’s that I was ashamed and scared and hurt. So I went to work. I didn’t have anything else to do. Wanting nothing more than to sit down and relax, I limped around Amazon warehouse with pus draining from my wound. Yes I was tired. Exhausted in face. Craving some sort of relaxation. I had no help with the deepest parts of me that were rotting. My intimacy didn’t exist. I was just trying to stay alive. And so I failed in so many ways trying to get myself to a level of satisfaction to where I felt like I was on top of things as I had been before.

I wished someone was there. Could cuddle. Could love me. Could cherish me. Could tell me how much I mean to you. How glad you are I’m alive. How happy you are with me being in your presence. But I didn’t get that. And standing in the mirror telling myself the very things I wanted to hear from a man never got boring. I never got tired of hearing or seeing myself call me beautiful. I went to bed alone. Might have spent 5 nights total somewhere else in the 90 days after the accident. The support and closeness that I needed just wasn’t there. And I refused to die.

I was angry at the universe for making me have to move. To leave what I considered to be home. To find myself all over again. Losing myself after the falling from the third story window at two, and losing my smiles; now I lost me. And it’s taken nothing but time to get it back. How I long for someone to share the deepest parts of me with. My third eye heightened in sensitivity, I see more about your fake concern for my well-being than you think and have to protect my inner peace. So I often don’t get to tell people how I feel. But I feel like I still want that love. I still want that feeling that the person is so excited that I’m still on this earth. And to what extent does it take to show it? Welcome me to a movie… a fairytale. My own.

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