So here it is, October and I'm already feeling anxious and excited for the holiday season. Its one of those things where I know every year will be better than the last. I'm sure I probably annoy some people with how exciting it is to me and..it almost annoys me that I feel like I should justify my feelings. The truth is..that as long as I'm happy.. I really don't care what you or anyone else thinks...but there are many things that have lead me to this conclusion.
While I say that I'm an open book, there are many things I am open about and that I share with people but there are also just as many things that I keep to myself..things I don't share with anyone.. so while I write this, keep in mind that its personal, and I have spoken to few people about it...so even publishing this gives me a little bit of anxiety.
I don't know about you, but if you know me..you know that I reflect a lot on things I have experienced and things that I remember. I don't know why I remember so much about my childhood but I have really good memory and I remember so much. I suppose maybe I just recall it more than the average person. I probably rely so much on my memory as well because of my near death experience. of course everyone knows all about it, but until you've been on the brink of death.. you really don't understand how precious every moment, every breath, and every memory is.
One of the earliest memories I have is when I was three years old. My brother who is ten years older than me.. woke me up really early and I faintly remember lights from a Christmas tree. He carried me over to a window where it was pitch black outside but I could see snow falling to the ground.
I remember the next Christmas.. when I was four. My uncles brought my sister and I.. a bunch of gifts. The next few Christmases were a blur. I spent a lot of time with my uncles, and my grandma while my mom was being evaluated for mental health issues. Then when I was seven, my mom decided to hitch hike across the country with my little sister and I. We lived in shelters between Tennessee and Georgia. We ended up living with total strangers. I have no clue who the people were but I remember little things, including Christmas.
By the time I was 8, we were back in Texas. I remember that Christmas too. My grandma owned a nursing home, where she had moved an old trailer on the back of the property.. My mom, Evelyn and I lived there..I remember my uncle's dog sleeping with us and keeping us warm. That Christmas I received a music box.. If I heard the music that played from it I would still remember it even 17 years later.
I don't remember Christmas when I was nine, but by 10 years old, I had changed schools 12 times? We lived on 500 dollars a month. My mom's boyfriend introduced us to dumpster diving behind Winn Dixie. I suppose you do what you have to to feed yourself. We lived on potted meat, ramen noodles, I also remember eating cornflakes w/ water a lot. My mom never cooked. Evelyn and I attended church by ourselves at 9 and 10 years old. The preachers wife fed us. People always brought us turkey and food for the holidays.
We lived across the road from a convenient store. I suppose it was apparent that we were going without meals. The owners of the store allowed us to go over to the store every evening. The employees would empty the left over crispitos and burritos into a paper bag and send us on our way...I had never eaten anything so delicious.
When I was 11 and in 6th grade. I was riding the school bus home. It was finally Christmas break. The only memory I have of that day was when I was walking off the school bus, the bus driver grabbed my attention and pointed to a large box in the front seat. He said it was mine. The box was nearly as big as I was at 5'6..I dragged the box all the way across our yard.. not knowing what was in it. Once I got in the house I realized that it was full of new unopened toys. Two of everything. One for me, and one for Evelyn.
I had no idea who it came from. It was so exciting... I know Christmas isn't about presents. But explaining to a child who somewhat understands that their lifestyle is much different than that of their peers at school is much more complicated. I knew not to expect presents for Christmas. I didn't know what Christmas dinner was. I didn't have family or fellowship. So when I opened this box, I think I was almost in shock.
The first holiday dinner I faintly remember is when I was 11. It was Thanksgiving. That's all I remember. Nothing special..I remember nothing when I was 12. But 13 is a different story. I was placed in foster care in September after I turned 13. I was in the youth shelter for a month, but then I moved in with Courtney as a temporary placement. It was different. Seeing how families interacted together. I grew up without knowing either of my grandfathers.. so going to her grandfathers for Thanksgiving was a different experience. Lots of laughing and talking. It was different. I spent that Christmas with my dad and his family. I faintly remember that experience. I've not thought a lot about it but it was special because his family is close. It was nice to be around people who wanted to be in my presence.
I'm going through these memories of holidays and it reminds me that there were none that felt special to me. Christmas at 14 and 15 were in two different foster homes. The experiences weren't bad but at that age my mind and understanding of my life had developed enough for me to see that I had no family..and though I was in a home it didn't feel like my own. I mean no disrespect to those who cared for me. Its not that I wasn't appreciative but I've always fought feelings of bitterness and anger because its not fair that I didn't have the biological stability that I deserved.
Thanksgiving and Christmas at 16 was one of my favorites. Living with Gen and Des. Their mother Lyndall made it special. I don't know if it was the holiday candies that she made or just her attitude towards the season. She wasn't negative, and the counters were covered with fudge and chocolate covered pretzels. I had never seen anything like it. I had never felt anything like what I felt. If I had to choose, that was probably my favorite Christmas.
Christmas at 17 was different. I think Lyndall was going through chemo at that time. I was probably at work. Then when I was 18, I spent Thanksgiving and Christmas alone.. on campus.. a few days after Christmas I had surgery..my eyes were swollen shut and I had to keep my head elevated to prevent swelling so I slept on Brian's couch. Courtney had called me and told me that I should probably go see Lyndall because she was in the hospital and it wasn't good. I told her I couldn't go because I had no way to drive to Durant...especially with my eyes swollen shut. Lyndall died a few days after that conversation.
I don't remember Thanksgiving or Christmas when I was 19. I was married so it was with Brian I'm sure.
Christmas at 20 was when I decided everything from that moment on was going to be different. Brian had to work that day, his mother had to work that day, and his stepfather had to work that day.. so I spent that day at home completely by myself.. while trying to figure out how to throw myself into labor. It was almost depressing being alone on a day when you know everyone else is together, laughing and talking. At one point a friend invited me to her home to eat with her family..which was generous but only reminded me that I had no one. I have always been appreciative of everyone who has always welcomed me into their home but it was almost like pouring salt on a wound. The only thing I could think about was the fact that I was alone and I had no family to spend the day with.
So that was the day that I promised myself that I wouldn't spend another Thanksgiving or Christmas alone. I was due any day with a little girl who would always have my heart and always have my support. I would give her the family she deserved and she would be the family I deserved.
Christmas has never been about the gifts for me but more about filling the voids in my life where I know things should have been different. I have no control over how things occurred as I was a child. The only thing I can control is how I contribute to my children's' memories.
Fast forward to 2011, I was 23. Brian and I had driven to see my dad's family in Idabel. On the way home I stopped by the convenient store where I got free food as a kid.. I hadn't seen Gwen since I was 11. There was an employee outside of the store so I asked if Gwen was around. The guy told me that she was at home and so I gave him my number and told him to have her call me. He stopped me and told me that she lived just down the street.. so Brian and I loaded back up in the car and drove to her home.
I felt strange knocking on her door. Of course I was wondering if she would even recognize me. I assume she knew I had been in a car accident but I didn't know if she knew the extent of my injuries. She answered the door and quickly grabbed the attention of her husband who was in the kitchen. She invited Brian, Raegan and I in.. I sat on her couch and told her all about myself and how my life had changed since I had seen her last. I was teary eyed when I told her that she couldn't possibly understand or know how much her generosity had touched me. Even she didn't know the extent of the lifestyle that we had been living. I rambled on about things that had went on when we have lived across the street. The dirty old man showing me Playboy magazines and being very touchy feely towards me. Even as I type this.. I haven't told anyone else. I went on to tell her about the day I came home from school, and had to drag a huge box into the house..I told her that I had no idea who had sent the box home with us...She stopped me right there at that moment. I looked at her and with a smile she told me that it had been her who had left the box at the school so that it could be sent home with us. Tears filled my eyes because it was one of the nicest things anyone had done for us. and again, we know Christmas isn't about gifts but I couldn't thank her enough for caring so much about my sister and I. She went out of her way to make Christmas a special memory for me.
I hate being told that I'll end up spoiling my children because I want them to have everything in life and in their childhood that I didn't. It has nothing to do with being rich, or giving them materialistic things. It has everything to do with providing them stability. The memories I create with my children are going to last their entire lives. I can't change my memories but I have the power to create wonderful memories with my own children... even when I'm dead.. they may be reminiscing with their own children about that delicious fudge I made, or that secret family recipe that doesn't exist yet. Its not that I'm not being realistic. I know the holiday season is stressful. I just want my children to think of me, and think of their childhood.. I want them to know I did everything I could to make every memory they have special... even if it means putting up our Christmas tree in the 2nd week of October.
I also want to say that even though I've said all kinds of things..as a child my understanding of the world around me was also clouded. I don't know why things happened the way they did but my understanding of family, love, and support isn't clouded now. I know everything about what I want my children to have in their lives. I know that the stability and structure that I provide in their home is going to make them better people, as well as more compassionate. I don't know why some people don't care as much about how they raise their children... Everything I put into my child is going to be reflected when they become parents themselves. I know everything I feel about parenting is a direct result of how I was parented. I've only got one shot at this and I don't want my child to ever feel the pain of knowing what its like to be alone. This is why I am excited for Thanksgiving. This is why I am excited for Christmas.
Wednesday, October 9, 2013
Saturday, August 24, 2013
Those moments you can't describe
Yesterday was a long day. Brian and I got a new sectional and we sold our couch and loveseat. The person I sold them to was a complete surprise but it resulted in me having the opportunity to see my 14 year old nephew that I hadnt seen in ten years. My last memory of seeing him is while I was in the hospital after the wreck. My fosterparents pushed me in a wheelchair to Iggys room. He was propped up inthe bed with a stuffed animal in one arm and the other arm completely bandaged. My memory is foggy because I was on a lot of pain medications. He was such a sweet 3 year old. He was hard to understand so we always asked Kenia what he was saying. Only she understood him. Iggy stood before me last night... taller than me and spoke english clearly and maturely.
He looked exactly like my sister. I was amazed that he was standing in front of me. I have always felt bad that Ive never had the opportunity to be around him as he has grown up. It makes me terribly sad. What was even more sad was listening to Iggys father Nacho, share with me his account of the car accident. He drove by the scene of the accident to get to the hospital and saw a body in a bag being loaded into the back of a vehicle. He had no clue it was either my mom or his daughter. My eyes were filled with tears because no one has ever shared what they remember with me. I realized that Kenia really is gone. And that life has gone on without her which was even more saddening. Ive felt sad lately because Raegan is going to turn 5 years old soon. Its the age Kenia was when she died. I dont think of Rae dying but it makes me emotional remembering Kenia at this age.
I didnt know how I would feel seeing my nephew. It was bittersweet.I am glad he has healed up and is doing well in school. He seems to be mature and responsible which is good. I hope to see him again soon. <3
Thursday, June 20, 2013
A little distracted.
Well the summer semester is underway. I'm taking one class. History and Systems of Psych. It doesn't seem to be terribly hard. Everything else is pretty much the same though.
So since I've last written, I've had strep throat.. felt like I was dying. I also had a headache for 6 days straight. That sucked the life out of me. I haven't had a migraine since April 23rd ..so today is day 58 but I woke up with a headache this morning. I go to bed every night wondering if I'll wake up with a migraine in the morning. This morning its just a headache..but it still bites.
I am still lying in bed. Raegan and Luke are asleep next to me and Brian went to work early so that he could get off work earlier. We'll see how that turns out. So other than lying in bed, checking my email, the news, celebrity gossip, listening to music and facebook.. I'm not doing much else. I have breakfast in the living room.. but I can't go get it because Luke has now draped his body across my chest.
So my 25th birthday is in just under 2 months. I'm excited for my birthday. I'm sure classes will start on or right around my birthday but I think this year I will have a good birthday.
This headache is pretty distracting. I am going to eat my breakfast and hope it goes away soon. I will update again soon.
Natalie
So since I've last written, I've had strep throat.. felt like I was dying. I also had a headache for 6 days straight. That sucked the life out of me. I haven't had a migraine since April 23rd ..so today is day 58 but I woke up with a headache this morning. I go to bed every night wondering if I'll wake up with a migraine in the morning. This morning its just a headache..but it still bites.
I am still lying in bed. Raegan and Luke are asleep next to me and Brian went to work early so that he could get off work earlier. We'll see how that turns out. So other than lying in bed, checking my email, the news, celebrity gossip, listening to music and facebook.. I'm not doing much else. I have breakfast in the living room.. but I can't go get it because Luke has now draped his body across my chest.
So my 25th birthday is in just under 2 months. I'm excited for my birthday. I'm sure classes will start on or right around my birthday but I think this year I will have a good birthday.
This headache is pretty distracting. I am going to eat my breakfast and hope it goes away soon. I will update again soon.
Natalie
Tuesday, May 21, 2013
Wednesday, March 6, 2013
I suppose this needs a title.
I'm just lying here in bed. Not tired.. well. Kinda. Brian is at an OKC Thunder game. He probably won't be home until closer to 2 a.m. Raegan and Luke have been asleep for a couple of hours now. I'm just listening to music and surfing the net. I thought that I could write a short entry.. while I have a chance.
I had class today, other than that.. it's been pretty fun. I can't tell you enough how ready I am to be done with school. I guess the last year is the hardest. I have to push myself.. Its too stressful.
Other than that.. there isn't much going on. ummmm.. tomorrow I have to do my volunteer work.. and.....I can't think of anything else.
So I'm listening to music.. Its causing me to experience some nostalgia. Its an interesting feeling. For me its not sad, but calm, peaceful. It takes me back to specific moments. Things that happened so long ago. An important time in my life. It doesn't make me sad, but it does make me feel teary. Strange how a song can take you back to an exact moment.
I felt so much when I heard this music so long ago. I could have never imagined myself lying here in bed 10 years later, listening to the same music. Its weird how you can take things, memories, feelings.. they all travel with you through time. You can recall them at any moment.
My wandering mind has kept me from finishing this post. Seems I am thinking about a lot of things. Its crazy how your life changes over a course of time. The things that were important to you at one time.. are no longer relative. I feel as though I'm reliving all of these emotions all over again. I feel this strange sensation in my heart and mind.
Sigh I've got to go to bed. Sweet Dreams
Natalie
I had class today, other than that.. it's been pretty fun. I can't tell you enough how ready I am to be done with school. I guess the last year is the hardest. I have to push myself.. Its too stressful.
Other than that.. there isn't much going on. ummmm.. tomorrow I have to do my volunteer work.. and.....I can't think of anything else.
So I'm listening to music.. Its causing me to experience some nostalgia. Its an interesting feeling. For me its not sad, but calm, peaceful. It takes me back to specific moments. Things that happened so long ago. An important time in my life. It doesn't make me sad, but it does make me feel teary. Strange how a song can take you back to an exact moment.
I felt so much when I heard this music so long ago. I could have never imagined myself lying here in bed 10 years later, listening to the same music. Its weird how you can take things, memories, feelings.. they all travel with you through time. You can recall them at any moment.
My wandering mind has kept me from finishing this post. Seems I am thinking about a lot of things. Its crazy how your life changes over a course of time. The things that were important to you at one time.. are no longer relative. I feel as though I'm reliving all of these emotions all over again. I feel this strange sensation in my heart and mind.
Sigh I've got to go to bed. Sweet Dreams
Natalie
Monday, February 25, 2013
A Whole Decade.
It seems its that time of year again. Today would be Kenias' 15th birthday. I can't even imagine her as a 15 year old. I was 14 at the time of the accident.. so imagining her as being or feeling how I felt at that age is near impossible. I see her as this beautiful 5 year old Mexican girl.
I've thought about the these moments.. the one I'm living in now. I've thought about it and where I'd be at 5 years, 10 years, 15 years after the accident. As a 14 year old, the only stability I had was due to being in foster care. Its what held me down. I had no clue what I faced in the future. I could not imagine where I'd be at 18, 20, 25. I realize the statement I just made about the only stability I had was due to being in foster care, was surely a lie. 8 homes in 5 years isn't stability. That doesn't include the 3 times I was in the youth shelter.
If what I experienced after the accident was only due to the accident.. I am sure things would have been much easier. At least I imagine so. Being in foster care had its own consequences. So add a traumatic experience and injuries to being in a home with people who are being paid to take care of you. There are moments when everything feels perfect. There were other moments where I felt as though I could take better care of myself, if only I were alone.
I know you won't even to pretend to understand anything I say. I've spent the last ten years of my life, trying to make sense of what my life has become. If there is anything I could say about the accident, and my injuries, I would say that it gave me purpose, it gave me a reason live. You may not understand. Every thing before the accident was me living in the moment. Existing. Waiting for the next chapter of my life.
Its strange, my memories of waking up in the hospital after the accident feel almost as if it were only a dream. I've morphed into myself, and I do not feel any difference between who I was before, or after. I can still recall the smell of the hospital room. The sweet Asian nurse named Meredith who took care of me. I can not recall her voice, nor can I recall the features of her face. The moments after I woke up in the hospital were blurry. It passed so quickly. Here I am 10 years later and I feel numb when I think back to what it felt like, the shock and disbelief I felt when I looked at myself in the mirror.
I faintly remember trying to touch my face. Not fully understanding the extent of my injuries. The first time I looked at myself in the mirror. I was alone in the bathroom. Why I was alone. I don't know. I was supposed to be peeing. But I stood in front of the mirror and stared deeply at myself. I could not understand how I even looked like the person in the pictures. I knew it was me. but the person I saw in the mirror was not me. My swollen eyes, the swollen skin, stitches, staples. I wasn't emotional. I didn't cry. I didn't say anything, I just didn't understand how I was the same person.
The only time I remember crying while in the hospital was while I was completely alone. No one was there. The tears that fell didn't pour from my eyes. I was still so numb that any emotion was very little emotion. My days spent in the hospital flew by as I watched planes fly in and out of DFW. My first time in a car after the accident didn't feel strange. I almost didn't event remember what it was like to ride in a car. I'm serious when I say that the only feeling I felt was numb. Thinking back, I was in a daze, or feeling of shock. I didn't feel like myself.
The first few months after the accident are a blur. The feelings I felt are indescribable. I felt as though there was such an outpouring of support. But still no one knew exactly how to act, or treat me. I knew no one else who had had their face ripped a part. So when someone is recovering from this type of injury how do you act?
I knew my scars would last forever. I can not remember showing any emotion about being uncomfortable with myself, or the fact that there was nothing I could do.. I did not cry to anyone. I didn't try to understand anything. I can not recall anyone sitting down and telling me that this wasn't the end of my life, or the world. No one held my hand and cried with me. I can not say that I didn't have support.. I just didn't have anyone who sat down to have a heart to heart with me and tell me that I would go on to be "normal", and that I would be loved regardless of the scars that were mapped across my body.
I definitely felt alone. No one else had gone through this. It is hard for me to not feel like I am being dramatic. I know exactly how I felt, but when I put it into words.. it feels childish, selfish.. as if I don't want to give credit to anyone else who took care of me, or was my friend as I went through these life changing situations. The only times I recall talking about anything regarding the accident was at church, of course I shared what happened, and people asked me all of the time. But I never had a heart to heart with anyone about how I felt about my body until I was 18.
My first week on campus I was so completely overcome by anxiety by the mass amount of students who lived on campus but didn't know me. I remember nothing I confessed to Staci, but I do remember crying through everything I said. From there, I met Brian, married him. I strengthened my bond with Heather. She's literally the first person I poured my heart out to about anything regarding my life before I was in foster care. Brian was next.
I realized I had been carrying so much weight for years. Weight that kept me from being close to anyone. Since that time I've found it easier to speak about the things I've experienced. I am able to speak more openly about the impact my physical body has in my life. The role the accident plays in making me who I am. I am still learning things about myself that I never took time to notice before.
I've felt many things in the last ten years. One being my experiences with what is called survivors guilt. I honestly never knew such a thing existed until I was 20. Heather and I were pregnant together, both with little girls. I had a semi perfect labor (if you don't mention the ambien).. Heather on the other hand began laboring naturally but it ended in a c-section. You may ask what does this have to do with anything? I felt so much guilt. I actually cried. It sounds so silly but I confessed how guilty I felt to a fellow friend and she told me that what I was feeling was due to survivors guilt. I often don't feel as though I deserve things. Things that other people don't have. I don't deserve such good things when others aren't as fortunate.
I immediately began reading more into what survivor's guilt is.. and a flood of memories and feelings came back to me. I've known several people who have died since I was in my accident. Kenia, Momma, Desiree, Misty, Amanda, My dad, Elisha's dad..and a few more.
I remember being told that Desiree had died, I remember being told that Misty had died, I remember when I found out when Amanda died. I knew all three, we went to school together for a couple of years. I felt so much guilt. I felt so much emotion. I knew so many people who were hurt by the loss of these three people. I would have done anything to bring them back. I especially felt guilty for being alive. The people who were hurt didn't deserve to feel so much pain, and if I could have done anything to take it away.. I would have. I felt so much guilt for being alive when such good, wonderful and loved people were taken away so soon. I've never really told anyone of my feelings of guilt, so what I am confessing is raw. and unedited. I don't know how long these feelings last. I assume my feelings of guilt will come and go throughout the rest of my life. I try not to think too much of it. I tell myself that everyone loves me, and no one wishes I were dead, and the other person alive. Survivors guilt does not make me feel guilty every day but the moments when I feel it the most, those moments are a weight on my chest. I see and feel the hurt that everyone around me expresses. It still doesn't even make sense as I write it.
Another thing I've experienced countless times in the last 10 years is with the natural curiosity that people show when encountering me. I suppose its natural to be inquisitive towards someone who looks different, or has obviously experienced some type of trauma.. I've been asked a million times, I often feel so normal that I don't always feel different when I'm out grocery shopping, or at Wal-Mart. It never fails though. Sometimes people are very blatant when they ask. Those moments catch me off guard. I don't know how to act when someone is so direct with me. Other times people approach me in a much softer manner, as not to offend me or hurt me.
Its surprising to people how open I am. I've met many people who aren't open. I would say one thing that has allowed me to cope is my ability and opportunity to talk about the accident. Again, I often feel like its all I talk about. Or that people get tired of hearing what I feel. But I remind myself that my injuries, and my body are something I have to accept every day. At the lowest point of my life, I've felt anger because I did not understand how or why this could happen to me. I would not wish it on anyone else but I surely didn't deserve to have to go through this. I choose to accept myself every day because my acceptance is a key factor in what keeps me going. I do not hate myself, I love my body and I often don't realize the impact I have on people. I do not think of myself as special. I do not even like to think of myself as anything but normal. I do not want pity or any special attention. I am not a victim of any circumstance in my life. I am a survivor. This gives me purpose. This is why I share my life.
Over the years, I've met many people. I've been outgoing. I do not hide myself, or my scars. I've never tried to hide them. In fact, my senior year when I had my senior portraits done, I was so excited. I was in shock when I received the envelope that contained my pictures. Whomever had edited my photos had edited my scars, as to completely remove them from my face. I remember crying. I would not say I was offended. I know many people wish to cover blemishes, and whoever edited my photo surely thought that they were doing something I would have been more comfortable with. but the truth is I had spent so much time coming to grips with reality and loving myself, that I didn't even recognize the edited face in the photos. In that moment, I didn't say anything. I didn't want to draw attention to myself or make anyone feel uncomfortable with the work they'd done. Instead I chose to pay to have my senior portraits taken again and made sure to tell the photographer that I wanted my face natural, not edited.
I've known many people who have felt distracted by the feelings they felt when they noticed the people who were staring at me while we were in public. I have learned how to cope with the amount of stares I get by not focusing on the people who are around me. I'm guilty of completely being oblivious to friends calling my name, or trying to get my attention. Those who know me say they don't even notice my scars. I can understand this statement. I don't even recognize the full extent of my injuries when I look at myself in the mirror. I've desensitized myself to my scars... but I encounter people on a day to day basis who are not familiar with me. I can always feel people staring at me. You may believe I'm paranoid. My appearance hardly seems like a big deal for those who know me. But I assure you, I can not go to Wal-mart, nor the grocery store.. or anywhere w/o someone staring at me, taking a second glance at me or asking me what happened to me. I often try to make the stares, or looks not so noticeable by being friendly or making conversation so that I can draw attention away from their awkwardness or curiosity.
Being completely honest, there are many things I can't explain about what happened to me on May 21, 2003. I try not to think too much into the things that occurred or didn't occur that day. I have felt so much more, things that pull my heart in both directions. There are some people who have felt as though I should be angry towards specific people or situations. Since becoming a mother, I've fought feelings of anger, and bitterness because I do not understand what could even make a person think its okay to be in a car with out your children being fully restrained with proper seat belts. What I've felt is so personal. I have never blamed anyone for anything. I would never place such a burden on a person. We are all responsible for our actions, and the consequences are ours to bare.
My recovery has probably been easier than others who were also in the accident. Although it may seem that my injuries could be described as worse, I have no recollection of the accident.. but there are several people who do. That, by far, has to be one of the hardest things to deal with. I can not go in public w/o people asking me what has happened to me. Those who have no physical scars do not always have the opportunity to come to understand or make sense of what traumatic things they've been exposed to. Their scars are psychological and emotional.
I encounter the past every day. I am not forced to relive it but I am able to acknowledge the difference it has made. We as people experience things we don't understand. We are not always given notice before life changing events occur. We do not always know what will impact our lives the greatest. I guess my life isn't typical. I have tried to imagine what my life would have been like, what I would have looked like as I aged. I've dealt with feelings of envy because clearly its not fair that you will get to live the rest of your life looking as you do.. where as I may need a few more face lifts to keep my face somewhere normal as I age.
Being unsatisfied with my face and body is one thing I try not to focus on. I don't talk about my physical appearance negatively.. unless I mention that my overgrown eyebrows need to be reconquered and reshaped. haha. I've went through periods where I have just not looked at myself in the mirror. I've told you I love my body .. I do but even in my weakest moments.. I hate looking at myself. If I critique myself.. I could find plenty of reasons to be unhappy.
It is through accepting my body, and its differences that I am able to see that there are many imperfections in life. I may not be happy with my weight but that is something I can change through diet and exercise. When I became pregnant with Raegan, I noticed a little stretch mark..and then one turned into two.. and two into four and four into fifty. You may read this and think I'm leading you astray with random thoughts that are passing through my mind but the reason I'm telling you about my stretch marks.. is because if people wouldn't say.. "OMG DID YOU SEE HER STRETCH MARKS" ..lol I'd probably show them off. Since acquiring my physical scars, I have definitely found it easier to accept the things I can not change such as a silly thing called genetics and what ever it is that contributes to these monstrous tiger stripes.
Its true, that while I do experience anxiety about being around people I don't know, and I've felt as though no one understands what it feels like to be me, I have more reasons to be happy than unhappy. My husband has actually experienced some of the same things I have. This is a post about me so I won't mention what those similarities are but I do believe that God provided me with a husband whom has felt or experienced what I have. The fact that we encounter some of the same things on a daily basis gives us strength as a couple. I have two beautiful children.
Raegan has not asked me any sort of questions about my scars, but I'm sure there will come a day when she asks me why I look different than other mommies. In fact, a little girl in Raegan's class asked me today... "what are those things on your face?", I've been asked many times by children..about what happened to me?.. which I always replied by telling them I wasn't wearing my seat belt and that I am lucky to be alive. So they should always wear theirs. I remember once I was asked if I was a freak.. by a kid .. his parents looked at me.. I smiled and told him yes. Those questions never bothered me. I think its important to always be upfront about the differences between people. The only thing that I think ever made me feel uncomfortable was once when I was working at Quizno's, a man was standing in line with his young daughter. She kept tugging on his arm.. saying "daddy what happened to her??".. she said this several times until he picked her up and carried her to the bathroom. I could hear her crying/screaming.. I assume he wanted to get his point across so he spanked her so she would to stop asking why.. Once it was his turn, I was at the register.. taking his money.. I wanted to so badly to embarrass him and tell him that it wasn't wrong for her to ask, nor was it inappropriate. She shouldn't have been punished for her lack of understanding. But instead, I chose not to draw attention and didn't say a word.
Thinking back, I can see that there are situations in which we are unsure of how to confront people. I've never been angry or mad, I've always answered any question that has been asked. I've always encouraged people to ask me questions because I don't like people making assumptions... I've also experienced people not having the "courage" (I guess) to ask me. so instead they turn to people who know me. I can recall even in December when Brian and I were waiting to finish paperwork, so we could bring home our new Fusion. I walked off with Luke..and I noticed one of the car salesman walk up to Brian and start asking him questions about me and what had happened to me. I don't mind people asking others.. but again some people would rather get information from others so that they don't hurt me or bring up anything that would upset me. It happens so often.
I am thankful for those who put all of their strength, time and effort into saving my life. I am so appreciative. I am thankful that no one gave up on keeping me alive. I've heard several accounts from different people who didn't know how I could possibly survive. I am very much aware of how close I came to dying. I was revived three times. My heart flat lined 3 times. Stop. Take a moment to imagine your life without me. Scary huh? Its strange, I believe in God, the words of God. I believe in Heaven...but I am terrified of dying. I understand that death is a part of life. but.. it makes me sad to even think of what I would have or could have not experienced. There is not a day that goes by that I don't think "I could die today".. again it sounds silly but I suppose it just has to do with how close I came to death. I also know that nothing is guaranteed, and anything can happen at any moment.
The next thing I've experienced is an emotional response to sirens. Strange, I remember being on a bus, coming back from Guadalajara with Clay and Jennifer Emerich in 2004.. An ambulance passed by us with its sirens on, and Jennifer asked me if it bothered me. I told her no. I had no memory of the accident. It wasn't until I was 19 that I had my first experience becoming emotional at the sound of sirens. I was driving to Sherman on Black Friday when an ambulance came up behind me with its sirens and lights on. I had to pull over because I was overwhelmed with emotions. I felt like an idiot but I could not stop the tears from pouring from my eyes. The next time it happened to me was at Atoka's annual fire truck parade. I thought nothing of it.. but once the trucks started passing by with their sirens on.. I was bawling like a baby. Its so strange. My eyes will fill with tears before my brain even processes the sound of a siren.
I've mentioned so many things.. I can hardly process any more thoughts. I don't know what any of this means. I don't understand everything.. sometimes I think we aren't meant to understand everything.. so I don't try to. My main point is that through the last ten years, I've had ups and downs.. but I try to focus on the positive things in my life. I have so many things to be thankful for. I am truly blessed beyond measure. The accident and the consequences of, are part of my life, and what makes who I am. I could spend my time being angry but I choose not to. I've got my whole life ahead of me. A life that I can live to the fullest.
I've thought about the these moments.. the one I'm living in now. I've thought about it and where I'd be at 5 years, 10 years, 15 years after the accident. As a 14 year old, the only stability I had was due to being in foster care. Its what held me down. I had no clue what I faced in the future. I could not imagine where I'd be at 18, 20, 25. I realize the statement I just made about the only stability I had was due to being in foster care, was surely a lie. 8 homes in 5 years isn't stability. That doesn't include the 3 times I was in the youth shelter.
If what I experienced after the accident was only due to the accident.. I am sure things would have been much easier. At least I imagine so. Being in foster care had its own consequences. So add a traumatic experience and injuries to being in a home with people who are being paid to take care of you. There are moments when everything feels perfect. There were other moments where I felt as though I could take better care of myself, if only I were alone.
I know you won't even to pretend to understand anything I say. I've spent the last ten years of my life, trying to make sense of what my life has become. If there is anything I could say about the accident, and my injuries, I would say that it gave me purpose, it gave me a reason live. You may not understand. Every thing before the accident was me living in the moment. Existing. Waiting for the next chapter of my life.
Its strange, my memories of waking up in the hospital after the accident feel almost as if it were only a dream. I've morphed into myself, and I do not feel any difference between who I was before, or after. I can still recall the smell of the hospital room. The sweet Asian nurse named Meredith who took care of me. I can not recall her voice, nor can I recall the features of her face. The moments after I woke up in the hospital were blurry. It passed so quickly. Here I am 10 years later and I feel numb when I think back to what it felt like, the shock and disbelief I felt when I looked at myself in the mirror.
I faintly remember trying to touch my face. Not fully understanding the extent of my injuries. The first time I looked at myself in the mirror. I was alone in the bathroom. Why I was alone. I don't know. I was supposed to be peeing. But I stood in front of the mirror and stared deeply at myself. I could not understand how I even looked like the person in the pictures. I knew it was me. but the person I saw in the mirror was not me. My swollen eyes, the swollen skin, stitches, staples. I wasn't emotional. I didn't cry. I didn't say anything, I just didn't understand how I was the same person.
The only time I remember crying while in the hospital was while I was completely alone. No one was there. The tears that fell didn't pour from my eyes. I was still so numb that any emotion was very little emotion. My days spent in the hospital flew by as I watched planes fly in and out of DFW. My first time in a car after the accident didn't feel strange. I almost didn't event remember what it was like to ride in a car. I'm serious when I say that the only feeling I felt was numb. Thinking back, I was in a daze, or feeling of shock. I didn't feel like myself.
The first few months after the accident are a blur. The feelings I felt are indescribable. I felt as though there was such an outpouring of support. But still no one knew exactly how to act, or treat me. I knew no one else who had had their face ripped a part. So when someone is recovering from this type of injury how do you act?
I knew my scars would last forever. I can not remember showing any emotion about being uncomfortable with myself, or the fact that there was nothing I could do.. I did not cry to anyone. I didn't try to understand anything. I can not recall anyone sitting down and telling me that this wasn't the end of my life, or the world. No one held my hand and cried with me. I can not say that I didn't have support.. I just didn't have anyone who sat down to have a heart to heart with me and tell me that I would go on to be "normal", and that I would be loved regardless of the scars that were mapped across my body.
I definitely felt alone. No one else had gone through this. It is hard for me to not feel like I am being dramatic. I know exactly how I felt, but when I put it into words.. it feels childish, selfish.. as if I don't want to give credit to anyone else who took care of me, or was my friend as I went through these life changing situations. The only times I recall talking about anything regarding the accident was at church, of course I shared what happened, and people asked me all of the time. But I never had a heart to heart with anyone about how I felt about my body until I was 18.
My first week on campus I was so completely overcome by anxiety by the mass amount of students who lived on campus but didn't know me. I remember nothing I confessed to Staci, but I do remember crying through everything I said. From there, I met Brian, married him. I strengthened my bond with Heather. She's literally the first person I poured my heart out to about anything regarding my life before I was in foster care. Brian was next.
I realized I had been carrying so much weight for years. Weight that kept me from being close to anyone. Since that time I've found it easier to speak about the things I've experienced. I am able to speak more openly about the impact my physical body has in my life. The role the accident plays in making me who I am. I am still learning things about myself that I never took time to notice before.
I've felt many things in the last ten years. One being my experiences with what is called survivors guilt. I honestly never knew such a thing existed until I was 20. Heather and I were pregnant together, both with little girls. I had a semi perfect labor (if you don't mention the ambien).. Heather on the other hand began laboring naturally but it ended in a c-section. You may ask what does this have to do with anything? I felt so much guilt. I actually cried. It sounds so silly but I confessed how guilty I felt to a fellow friend and she told me that what I was feeling was due to survivors guilt. I often don't feel as though I deserve things. Things that other people don't have. I don't deserve such good things when others aren't as fortunate.
I immediately began reading more into what survivor's guilt is.. and a flood of memories and feelings came back to me. I've known several people who have died since I was in my accident. Kenia, Momma, Desiree, Misty, Amanda, My dad, Elisha's dad..and a few more.
I remember being told that Desiree had died, I remember being told that Misty had died, I remember when I found out when Amanda died. I knew all three, we went to school together for a couple of years. I felt so much guilt. I felt so much emotion. I knew so many people who were hurt by the loss of these three people. I would have done anything to bring them back. I especially felt guilty for being alive. The people who were hurt didn't deserve to feel so much pain, and if I could have done anything to take it away.. I would have. I felt so much guilt for being alive when such good, wonderful and loved people were taken away so soon. I've never really told anyone of my feelings of guilt, so what I am confessing is raw. and unedited. I don't know how long these feelings last. I assume my feelings of guilt will come and go throughout the rest of my life. I try not to think too much of it. I tell myself that everyone loves me, and no one wishes I were dead, and the other person alive. Survivors guilt does not make me feel guilty every day but the moments when I feel it the most, those moments are a weight on my chest. I see and feel the hurt that everyone around me expresses. It still doesn't even make sense as I write it.
Another thing I've experienced countless times in the last 10 years is with the natural curiosity that people show when encountering me. I suppose its natural to be inquisitive towards someone who looks different, or has obviously experienced some type of trauma.. I've been asked a million times, I often feel so normal that I don't always feel different when I'm out grocery shopping, or at Wal-Mart. It never fails though. Sometimes people are very blatant when they ask. Those moments catch me off guard. I don't know how to act when someone is so direct with me. Other times people approach me in a much softer manner, as not to offend me or hurt me.
Its surprising to people how open I am. I've met many people who aren't open. I would say one thing that has allowed me to cope is my ability and opportunity to talk about the accident. Again, I often feel like its all I talk about. Or that people get tired of hearing what I feel. But I remind myself that my injuries, and my body are something I have to accept every day. At the lowest point of my life, I've felt anger because I did not understand how or why this could happen to me. I would not wish it on anyone else but I surely didn't deserve to have to go through this. I choose to accept myself every day because my acceptance is a key factor in what keeps me going. I do not hate myself, I love my body and I often don't realize the impact I have on people. I do not think of myself as special. I do not even like to think of myself as anything but normal. I do not want pity or any special attention. I am not a victim of any circumstance in my life. I am a survivor. This gives me purpose. This is why I share my life.
Over the years, I've met many people. I've been outgoing. I do not hide myself, or my scars. I've never tried to hide them. In fact, my senior year when I had my senior portraits done, I was so excited. I was in shock when I received the envelope that contained my pictures. Whomever had edited my photos had edited my scars, as to completely remove them from my face. I remember crying. I would not say I was offended. I know many people wish to cover blemishes, and whoever edited my photo surely thought that they were doing something I would have been more comfortable with. but the truth is I had spent so much time coming to grips with reality and loving myself, that I didn't even recognize the edited face in the photos. In that moment, I didn't say anything. I didn't want to draw attention to myself or make anyone feel uncomfortable with the work they'd done. Instead I chose to pay to have my senior portraits taken again and made sure to tell the photographer that I wanted my face natural, not edited.
I've known many people who have felt distracted by the feelings they felt when they noticed the people who were staring at me while we were in public. I have learned how to cope with the amount of stares I get by not focusing on the people who are around me. I'm guilty of completely being oblivious to friends calling my name, or trying to get my attention. Those who know me say they don't even notice my scars. I can understand this statement. I don't even recognize the full extent of my injuries when I look at myself in the mirror. I've desensitized myself to my scars... but I encounter people on a day to day basis who are not familiar with me. I can always feel people staring at me. You may believe I'm paranoid. My appearance hardly seems like a big deal for those who know me. But I assure you, I can not go to Wal-mart, nor the grocery store.. or anywhere w/o someone staring at me, taking a second glance at me or asking me what happened to me. I often try to make the stares, or looks not so noticeable by being friendly or making conversation so that I can draw attention away from their awkwardness or curiosity.
Being completely honest, there are many things I can't explain about what happened to me on May 21, 2003. I try not to think too much into the things that occurred or didn't occur that day. I have felt so much more, things that pull my heart in both directions. There are some people who have felt as though I should be angry towards specific people or situations. Since becoming a mother, I've fought feelings of anger, and bitterness because I do not understand what could even make a person think its okay to be in a car with out your children being fully restrained with proper seat belts. What I've felt is so personal. I have never blamed anyone for anything. I would never place such a burden on a person. We are all responsible for our actions, and the consequences are ours to bare.
My recovery has probably been easier than others who were also in the accident. Although it may seem that my injuries could be described as worse, I have no recollection of the accident.. but there are several people who do. That, by far, has to be one of the hardest things to deal with. I can not go in public w/o people asking me what has happened to me. Those who have no physical scars do not always have the opportunity to come to understand or make sense of what traumatic things they've been exposed to. Their scars are psychological and emotional.
I encounter the past every day. I am not forced to relive it but I am able to acknowledge the difference it has made. We as people experience things we don't understand. We are not always given notice before life changing events occur. We do not always know what will impact our lives the greatest. I guess my life isn't typical. I have tried to imagine what my life would have been like, what I would have looked like as I aged. I've dealt with feelings of envy because clearly its not fair that you will get to live the rest of your life looking as you do.. where as I may need a few more face lifts to keep my face somewhere normal as I age.
Being unsatisfied with my face and body is one thing I try not to focus on. I don't talk about my physical appearance negatively.. unless I mention that my overgrown eyebrows need to be reconquered and reshaped. haha. I've went through periods where I have just not looked at myself in the mirror. I've told you I love my body .. I do but even in my weakest moments.. I hate looking at myself. If I critique myself.. I could find plenty of reasons to be unhappy.
It is through accepting my body, and its differences that I am able to see that there are many imperfections in life. I may not be happy with my weight but that is something I can change through diet and exercise. When I became pregnant with Raegan, I noticed a little stretch mark..and then one turned into two.. and two into four and four into fifty. You may read this and think I'm leading you astray with random thoughts that are passing through my mind but the reason I'm telling you about my stretch marks.. is because if people wouldn't say.. "OMG DID YOU SEE HER STRETCH MARKS" ..lol I'd probably show them off. Since acquiring my physical scars, I have definitely found it easier to accept the things I can not change such as a silly thing called genetics and what ever it is that contributes to these monstrous tiger stripes.
Its true, that while I do experience anxiety about being around people I don't know, and I've felt as though no one understands what it feels like to be me, I have more reasons to be happy than unhappy. My husband has actually experienced some of the same things I have. This is a post about me so I won't mention what those similarities are but I do believe that God provided me with a husband whom has felt or experienced what I have. The fact that we encounter some of the same things on a daily basis gives us strength as a couple. I have two beautiful children.
Raegan has not asked me any sort of questions about my scars, but I'm sure there will come a day when she asks me why I look different than other mommies. In fact, a little girl in Raegan's class asked me today... "what are those things on your face?", I've been asked many times by children..about what happened to me?.. which I always replied by telling them I wasn't wearing my seat belt and that I am lucky to be alive. So they should always wear theirs. I remember once I was asked if I was a freak.. by a kid .. his parents looked at me.. I smiled and told him yes. Those questions never bothered me. I think its important to always be upfront about the differences between people. The only thing that I think ever made me feel uncomfortable was once when I was working at Quizno's, a man was standing in line with his young daughter. She kept tugging on his arm.. saying "daddy what happened to her??".. she said this several times until he picked her up and carried her to the bathroom. I could hear her crying/screaming.. I assume he wanted to get his point across so he spanked her so she would to stop asking why.. Once it was his turn, I was at the register.. taking his money.. I wanted to so badly to embarrass him and tell him that it wasn't wrong for her to ask, nor was it inappropriate. She shouldn't have been punished for her lack of understanding. But instead, I chose not to draw attention and didn't say a word.
Thinking back, I can see that there are situations in which we are unsure of how to confront people. I've never been angry or mad, I've always answered any question that has been asked. I've always encouraged people to ask me questions because I don't like people making assumptions... I've also experienced people not having the "courage" (I guess) to ask me. so instead they turn to people who know me. I can recall even in December when Brian and I were waiting to finish paperwork, so we could bring home our new Fusion. I walked off with Luke..and I noticed one of the car salesman walk up to Brian and start asking him questions about me and what had happened to me. I don't mind people asking others.. but again some people would rather get information from others so that they don't hurt me or bring up anything that would upset me. It happens so often.
I am thankful for those who put all of their strength, time and effort into saving my life. I am so appreciative. I am thankful that no one gave up on keeping me alive. I've heard several accounts from different people who didn't know how I could possibly survive. I am very much aware of how close I came to dying. I was revived three times. My heart flat lined 3 times. Stop. Take a moment to imagine your life without me. Scary huh? Its strange, I believe in God, the words of God. I believe in Heaven...but I am terrified of dying. I understand that death is a part of life. but.. it makes me sad to even think of what I would have or could have not experienced. There is not a day that goes by that I don't think "I could die today".. again it sounds silly but I suppose it just has to do with how close I came to death. I also know that nothing is guaranteed, and anything can happen at any moment.
The next thing I've experienced is an emotional response to sirens. Strange, I remember being on a bus, coming back from Guadalajara with Clay and Jennifer Emerich in 2004.. An ambulance passed by us with its sirens on, and Jennifer asked me if it bothered me. I told her no. I had no memory of the accident. It wasn't until I was 19 that I had my first experience becoming emotional at the sound of sirens. I was driving to Sherman on Black Friday when an ambulance came up behind me with its sirens and lights on. I had to pull over because I was overwhelmed with emotions. I felt like an idiot but I could not stop the tears from pouring from my eyes. The next time it happened to me was at Atoka's annual fire truck parade. I thought nothing of it.. but once the trucks started passing by with their sirens on.. I was bawling like a baby. Its so strange. My eyes will fill with tears before my brain even processes the sound of a siren.
I've mentioned so many things.. I can hardly process any more thoughts. I don't know what any of this means. I don't understand everything.. sometimes I think we aren't meant to understand everything.. so I don't try to. My main point is that through the last ten years, I've had ups and downs.. but I try to focus on the positive things in my life. I have so many things to be thankful for. I am truly blessed beyond measure. The accident and the consequences of, are part of my life, and what makes who I am. I could spend my time being angry but I choose not to. I've got my whole life ahead of me. A life that I can live to the fullest.
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
Gotta get into the groove..
The spring semester has started! I unexpectedly had to transfer to ECU. Let me tell you... that was nerve wracking! I know nothing about ECU, and much less about Ada. I was able to enroll in two courses online and two courses on campus. Its the second week of class and while I am nervous, I think everything will be okay.
I think I'm just nervous because I know I have to do well this semester and I'm just not sure how that is going to work out. I'm just going to take things one step at a time. I think I'll feel better as the semester progresses.
Talk about progress! Luke has began walking! He's still crawling a little but he walks more every day! Its fairly exciting! I hope that he enjoys walking and won't follow behind me and cry because I won't pick him up. That happens to be frustrating.
I've tried to introduce potty training for 2 years, and Raegan is finally interested!.. She peed in the potty all week at school and over the weekend she peed almost every time, in the potty. She has done nothing but talk about how she's a big girl. I feel so relieved. Potty training is frustrating to me, enough to make me not want to have more kids lol. It can't be the most horrible thing in the world..
Raegan is at school today and daddy is at work. Luke and I are enjoying ourselves at home. I'm trying to convince myself to work on a discussion post before I forget the material I read this morning. Its too early in the semester to be procrastinating. ;)
I think I'm going to like my classes on campus. My first is an adolescent development class. My professor seems to be a very sweet woman. I am also enrolled in Social Stratification. The professor I have for that class is also a woman. She's entertaining. I have to volunteer 15 hours this semester in order to pass my classes. I spoke with the principle at Raegan's school who gave me permission to volunteer, mentor, read to, and tutor up at the school. I don't know exactly what my volunteering will consist of but I hope it all works out well.
Luke went to his second day of daycare yesterday. Caren said that Luke cried quite a bit, and only wanted to be held. I'm sure he'll get the hang of things but its bittersweet because I'd never purposely hurt the child. But I really do enjoy driving to class. 45 minutes in the car alone, one way.. with no screaming or fighting AND I have total control over the radio. Now that is relaxing.
Sigh. Too many things distracting me. I gotta pee. so I'm going to end this.
Adios
Natalie
I think I'm just nervous because I know I have to do well this semester and I'm just not sure how that is going to work out. I'm just going to take things one step at a time. I think I'll feel better as the semester progresses.
Talk about progress! Luke has began walking! He's still crawling a little but he walks more every day! Its fairly exciting! I hope that he enjoys walking and won't follow behind me and cry because I won't pick him up. That happens to be frustrating.
I've tried to introduce potty training for 2 years, and Raegan is finally interested!.. She peed in the potty all week at school and over the weekend she peed almost every time, in the potty. She has done nothing but talk about how she's a big girl. I feel so relieved. Potty training is frustrating to me, enough to make me not want to have more kids lol. It can't be the most horrible thing in the world..
Raegan is at school today and daddy is at work. Luke and I are enjoying ourselves at home. I'm trying to convince myself to work on a discussion post before I forget the material I read this morning. Its too early in the semester to be procrastinating. ;)
I think I'm going to like my classes on campus. My first is an adolescent development class. My professor seems to be a very sweet woman. I am also enrolled in Social Stratification. The professor I have for that class is also a woman. She's entertaining. I have to volunteer 15 hours this semester in order to pass my classes. I spoke with the principle at Raegan's school who gave me permission to volunteer, mentor, read to, and tutor up at the school. I don't know exactly what my volunteering will consist of but I hope it all works out well.
Luke went to his second day of daycare yesterday. Caren said that Luke cried quite a bit, and only wanted to be held. I'm sure he'll get the hang of things but its bittersweet because I'd never purposely hurt the child. But I really do enjoy driving to class. 45 minutes in the car alone, one way.. with no screaming or fighting AND I have total control over the radio. Now that is relaxing.
Sigh. Too many things distracting me. I gotta pee. so I'm going to end this.
Adios
Natalie
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