February 12, 2016

"She could not make sense of the things that were meant for her, but she was drawn to it all. And when she was alone, she felt like the moon: terrified of the sky, but completely in love with the way it held the stars." R.M. Drake

This has certainly been long-awaited and much overdo; perhaps it is the incredulity of it all that urged me to share. I promised this post before the dust had even settled, but it has only been within the past few days that I have been able to form coherent thoughts about the events of the past few months. \

Mere weeks after the accident I posted a litany of jumbled thoughts, hoping that I would be on the fast track to normality. Recovery has certainly been a longer, more difficult road than I anticipated, though, and it is only three months later that I can say I may be close to a baseline normality.

Sharing this makes me extremely nervous, but I know it is only to glorify God. As the apostle Paul said "Now I want you know, brothers and sisters, that what has happened to me has actually served to advance the gospel." Philippians 1:12

*Note: I don't remember any of Friday or Saturday, everything I know has been told to me by my family and friends.

Friday, February 12 was a frigid evening, and it had begun to snow while I was at work. Around 9:30 I left, intent to return to school where I had a weekend filled to the brim with homework, assignments, and papers. I pulled out of the parking lot, and that is the las t memory of the evening I have.

For good reason, my parents didn't show me pictures for a long time

There were white out conditions and I collided with a salt truck. The driver was fine, but my car was totaled and the salt truck had to be towed. After telling the first responders my name, birthday, and mom's name I was rushed to Grant Medical Center with a multitude of broken bones and internal injuries. 

I was in the ICU on life support for nearly 15 hours before I was stable enough for corrective surgery for my arm. Once I was finally able to breathe on my own, the first words I spoke were "I have assignments to do!" At least we know my priorities hadn't shifted.

Sunday afternoon is when my memories return. I knew I had been in an accident, but somehow I never doubted my survival. For a long while I was angry that I couldn't remember that night. Now, I am able to see that it is just another way in which God had his hand over me.

Monday came, and I was barely able to walk down the hallway without an overwhelming sense of dizziness and nausea consuming me. Climbing stairs made me feel as though I was passing out, yet I always felt an overwhelming sense of strength within me when leaving the bed. I never pushed myself to an unattainable limit, rather I never questioned what I knew was possible.

And somehow I was able to go home five days after being admitted.

By no means was I healed, but I was walking, talking, and breathing on my own... Much more than could be said on Friday night.

The road to recovery would be long and painful. I would have to withdrawal from school, leaving my semester unfinished. I would have to do physical, occupational, and speech therapies to regain strength, cognition, and balance. (And I would just like to point out the fact that I was able to help my brother with math homework)

Seeing pictures, hearing stories, and reading the police report continue to leave me bewildered. How did I survive such an impact? How was no one else injured? It could have turned out so much worse, but it didn't. Those questions have brought perplexity, but they have also brought uncertainty.

While I have always known this is a story that needs to be told, time has left me fearful. Do I share too much of my life? This isn't my story, though. This is God's work, his medium just happened to coincide with my life.

I am not the main character of this miracle, though. God is the protagonist of this story hundreds of people are responsible for prayers that allowed to story to continue. My moves toward a full recovery would be insignificant without the prayers of those who surrounded me and my family. The number easily spans the country, from California to South Carolina and I could not be more grateful.

While I am still plagued by constant headaches, I got behind the wheel for the first time almost three months after the accident to the day. I am slowly easing myself back into school by taking a summer course, and it is going better than I thought it would. (and has revealed that my leisurely pace post-accident is still considered intense.... who knew?)

As is my hope with all my posts, it is my hope that this brings comfort to someone, restores hope for someone, reveals the light of God to one person. He is the only reason I am alive and healthy and on the road to a full recovery.

"So they cried out to the Lord in their distress, and God saved them from their desperate circumstances. God gave the order and healed them; He rescued them from their pit. Let them thank the Lord for His faithful love and his wondrous works for all people." Psalms 107: 19-21

Glory be to God,

xoxo,

jkd

Life Isn't a Competition

"Progress, of the best kind, is comparatively slow. Great results cannot be achieved at once, and we must be satisfied to advance in life as we walk, step by step." - Samuel Smiles 

By now you have surely noticed a theme. I expect nothing but excellence from myself, and I view everything as a competition. Getting the best grades, being the busiest, being the fastest to heal...It's all a race.

After having knee surgery my sophomore year of high school, I was told I wouldn't be able to cheer for another six months. So naturally, I threw a backhandspring at tryouts less than two months later.

Taking last semester off allowed me time to regroup, to examine why my competitive ways drove everything I approached. (See my post To the Perfectionist) As the saying goes, though, old habits die hard. As soon as I stepped back on campus, my need to be excellent returned. It was as if the break that had taught me so much had been erased. I dove in head first, determined to ace every one of my eight classes.

Everything is a competition. If I was in a bracket, I would be sure to have difficulty of schedule and most points scored. It would only make sense to send me to the next round...

Life sent me an upset, though.

Unfortunately, I am foolishly stubborn and I don't learn from my mistakes until I've made them multiple times. 

Everything isn't a competition. This isn't March Madness, and no one is a number one seed. Maybe Mother Theresa is, but I surely am not. 

This school year has been more than unpredictable. Just as I felt myself catching up, I stumbled again. My classmates are graduating next year; they are getting married and starting their careers. I, on the other hand, am at home asking my mom to cut my food. What am I doing?

I'm healing.

Rushing back to school isn't going to earn me a medal. Returning to class won't make me graduate any faster. My parents have had to remind me (almost daily) that it will only cause me disappointment and feed my anxiety as I watch my grades suffer, forget assignments, and struggle to read. School is always going to be there, that doesn't change simply because my priorities have.

Life isn't a competition. There is no prize for "most credit hours." Employers don't care who set the curve. Breaking news: they don't even mind if college takes you five years to complete. There is no rush. The world won't stop spinning and there is no reason to compensate for lost time. Life is a journey, and there is nothing wrong with a momentary time out.

If I have learned anything in the past month, it is that my sights have been set for a finish line, a podium. Every day is a blessing, though, and I have taken each for granted. I must learn to go slow. I must learn to take this life breath by breath.

xoxo,
jdk

Welcome Back...

"Let us pick up our books and pencils. They are our most powerful weapons." Malala Yousafzai 

I love school, and I absolutely adore mine.

I started school on January 11th, and I knew this semester was going to be completely delightful. I was reunited with my best friend, we were cheering on our Cougars from the sideline, and my course schedule was packed full.

I began the semester with 15 hours, but because of scheduling mishaps my advisor added a course, taking me to 18 hours. She kept telling me to drop a class. It's not a race, 18 hours probably isn't the best coming off of your furlough.

Naturally, I ignored her advice and kept all 8 classes and handled it gracefully. I was looking forward to the weeks upcoming when cheerleading would end, and late night practices would allow me more time to do homework and sleep. For the time being, I knew I could balance it all, though.

I hit the ground running, and I returned to campus more ready than I had ever been. I was ecstatic to be back on campus, and I wasn't going to take a single second for granted.

My education classes excited me for the future and my English classes brought me to life. How great is it that I was receiving credit for two classes that allowed me to read and discuss short stories, poems, and plays?!They actually let me read, discuss, and watch adaptations of Shakespearean plays...

For the first time I was taking a drama course, and I was given the opportunity to advertise for MVNU's spring play. I had never been involved in a production, and to be quite honest, it made me extremely nervous when I scanned the syllabus. It ended up being a great experience I was looking forward to. Even though drama had never been an interest of mine, it quickly became one! I couldn't wait to sell tickets and unveil opening night.

Going back to cheerleading was just another aspect of returning ot MVNU that filled my life with joy.  I was given the opportunity to cheer on my Cougars, I was stunting again, and I got to do it all with my best friend in the air with me.

I couldn't be more grateful for the first four weeks of Spring 2016. It was absolutely everything I imagined returning to MVNU would be and I can't wait to begin my journey as an Integrated Language Arts major!

****

I have been sitting at home, unable to do anything for nearly three weeks. It finally became too much to bear, and the writing bug bit me again. While I'm not supposed to be using the computer, I couldn't stop myself from writing another blog post. Sure, it took me much longer than it normally does, but I'm hoping my writing hasn't suffered too much. 

This surely wasn't the first post you were expecting after everything that has happened. For that, I'll apologize. I want to share what happened, but I'm not positive I'm ready to do that just yet. It is probably going to remain a draft until it is deemed acceptable by my tired, editing eyes.  Eventually I'll share, but right now, I just needed a dash of positivity in my life to reveal how glorious the first few weeks back to school have been. School is truly where I belong, and I wouldn't depreciate that by starting with any other post.

Excuse me while I take a nap now...

thank you for being patient with me,
xoxo,
jkd


**Disclaimer: I apologize if my writing has changed or suffered in any way. You'll learn why in the near future.