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.