*I want to start this blog by mentioning that I may cuss on occasion. I have censored it, simply because I don’t EVER cuss on social media, my blog, and I try to minimize it in my life. I am just so emotional right now… I have to do it! I apologize.*
Every single day someone reaches out to me through texts, calls, tweets, messages, emails, or some other channel of communication. The conversations that we have are typically the same:
Person – “Kristin, I am so sorry this happened to you. How are you feeling today?”
Me – “I’ve been better but I am pushing through! I am trying to stay positive. Thanks for reaching out to me!”
Do not get me wrong – I love when people reach out to me. I really do! It means the world to me. Seeing how much people care encourages me to be happy, work hard, and recovery as quickly as possible. So thank you to all who take time out of their day simply to say, “How are you?”
The thing is… although I try to stay positive, be inspirational, smile all the time, and share happy stories about me making progress in terms of healing or walking, it just feels like it hasn’t been happening lately.
That doesn’t mean I am not progressing at all. The wound is healing nicely (and I hope it continues to do so), I am seeing the wound decrease in size (very little, but hey, it is improvement), and I am somewhat making an improvement in terms of physical therapy. Not much in that last department, but I at least try my hardest on a daily basis to remain active, even if I just lift five pound weights for bicep curls, triceps, and chest press. I am trying.
Aside from that, I want to share the not so happy part. I feel all of my followers, friends, family, and/or acquaintances deserve and should hear about the aspects to my recovery that aren’t so great.
I am going to just say it.. I AM F#*%ING MISERABLE! Ah, feels good to finally say that.
Seriously, though. I am. But that is okay! Do people really expect me to be chipper after going in for an appendectomy and coming out with a giant scar down my stomach, two HUGE (they are large, people) wounds on each side of my right leg, and a boat load of medications that cause me to feel sick on a regular basis? Thinking it through, I doubt people expect me to be happy.
Each day I attempt to find a new way to bring joy into my life. Lately, that has been exercising a little again, spending time with my mom, getting out of the house (which is rare), and talking with my closest friends and family.
The problem is, that just isn’t doing it. I hate to say family and friends aren’t enough, but mentally, it isn’t right now. The lack of sleep has caused me to be more emotional than usual, but I noticed when I was released home from the rehab center that I was more likely to cry about even the smallest things. Crying seems to be a part of my daily routine now.
I am SO thankful to be alive, especially after being without a pulse for two whole minutes. So, why cry? Crying is the only way for me to release the emotions I clearly bottled up for a month in the hospital. A month ago, all of this was a huge surprise. It was as if I had no time to even think about how I truly felt regarding my situation. Once I was home, had time alone to think and feel, I broke down.
Blogging helps, but it does not fill the voids I had to let go of due to all of this. One of those voids is my trip to Australia. On Sunday, David (my boyfriend) and I were scheduled to fly to LAX, then jump on another flight to Brisbane. Alexis, my gorgeous and intelligent cousin, is currently in Brisbane studying with some of her best friends. How amazing is that?
It pained me to hear that I wouldn’t be able to travel for quite some time. This meant that my trip to the entire east coast of Australia was cancelled. Ironically enough, two weeks before my incident, I told my travel agent that I wouldn’t need the traveler’s insurance. Even more ironic… I paid the final payment of the trip the day I was told I needed the appendectomy. Can you f#*%ing believe that? Not only did I make a final payment the day of my trip, but I didn’t get the gosh dern traveler’s insurance. Needless to say, I lost a hefty chunk of the money I spent for the trip. Son of a B-word.
Despite that I cannot go, I do think about Alexis and I become elated. I am SO incredibly happy for her. I believe that her happiness flows through me when I see snapchats, photos on Facebook, and get an opportunity to speak with her. It makes the loss of money, no trip, and irony feel completely painless. *Quick shoutout: Alexis, I love you and can’t wait to take on Australia together someday in the near future.
I am laughing while re-reading what I had written so far because you can all probably see/read the mood swings LOL. One paragraph I was happy, the next paragraph I was sad, then angry, and back to happy. This is me on a daily basis, now.
I digress… If you knew me prior to the incident, you knew how incredibly upbeat, fearless, strong, and bubbly I was. Right now, it feels like the old me is hidden deep deep within me somewhere. Through blogging and talking things out, I will be reunited with the old me again. I know it will take time. I can only pray that time will be on my side soon.
I ask, or plead rather, that each of you count your blessings. I never thought anything bad would happen to me in life again after I was bit by my neighbor’s dog and my cousin, grandmother, and uncle died all within a year.
They say catastrophe comes in threes. One. Two. Three… Three…. Three. What is it about the number three? Well three is the first odd prime number… that is kind of cool. Oh and the fraction 1/3 is .333333333. I think you get it. I am hoping this catastrophe is the final catastrophe in my lifetime. Although, people wouldn’t necessarily say the deaths of family members was a “catastrophe” in my life… but it certainly took a toll on me as a child. I had a deep connection with those family members who passed, so I believe it was a catastrophe.
With that being said, I will say again… count your blessings daily and twice on Sunday. That sounds cliche and silly, but it is something I need to do too. Since my incident, I have lost touch with who I was spiritually, and I want that part of me back.
My best friend, Emily, sent me this beautiful quote today, after I told her how I was feeling (few people in my life get the entire low down on how I feel, lol). She said, “God gives his toughest battles to his strongest soldiers.” I am walking proof of that, I guess. (Except I am not really walking right now, haha!) Joke is on me, isn’t it! 😉