Having hope after any traumatic experience is challenging, especially when the road ahead feels endless. You just have to keep putting one foot in front of the other, even if you don’t know where the road will lead. It’s nearly impossible to stay hopeful amidst disaster. Everything seems complicated and out of reach. So far. Such a long way to go. Trust the process, work hard, and you’ll get somewhere.
There was a time when I thought the rest of my life was to be spent in bed. Hope seemed foreign. I couldn’t imagine standing up and walking independently. Showering alone seemed so far off. Unattainable. I want my book to show other survivors that there can be another side to this mess. I wish I had known that one day, I’d go to concerts again, go shopping with my friends again, and even be mobile enough to clean a bathtub successfully. It would have kind of canceled those months of uncertainty.
What gave me hope during my months-long stays in hospitals? The knowledge that I’d be out of those hospitals one day kept me going. Day after day. Essentially, the same things, PT. OT. Speech. Over and over. I knew if I did what was asked of me and tried, I would get better. It still gives me hope. My brain gets better with every day that passes. Time heals, and I just keep healing. There is only one way to go from here.
Survivor’s guilt is something I face every time I hear about someone killed in a car accident—an empty feeling in my stomach. One of my oldest best friends since kindergarten was one of those killed. It will never make sense. Why did I survive? Why does my life get to go on? Who or what is making these decisions?
It isn’t fair, and it doesn’t feel good to wonder why you lived while others died. I know it probably has something to do with how and where someone was hurt, which decides the outcome of a car accident. The victims don’t get to determine the immediate consequences of an accident. But those of us who survive can influence the result of our recovery. We can work hard, we can hope.