Can you believe it's almost July? This year "July" means so much more to me that it ever did in the past. Mainly because after July comes August, and August will never again mean "birthday month" to me, but rather will forever mean "August 13th, 2013" to me. I cannot believe it's been almost a year since my accident. I am so thankful for so many things and for how far I have come since that horrible day. That being said, I am also angry for other things. This accident has wrecked absolute hell on my life. Much of it I have not shared on here...partly because I haven't quite figured out how to express myself on the subject, and partly because I don't know how much I am allowed to say. My heart still stops every time I enter a crosswalk. There are places I refuse to walk by, let alone look at. There are items in my closet that I haven't been able to wear...
Like this skirt.
The last time I wore this skirt was the morning of my accident. I remember being excited because I had paid to have it altered to fit, and I was finally getting to wear it to work. It's actually one of the two items from my outfit that day that have survived. My white purse that I was carrying that day was ruined from the impact. One of my sandals that I had been wearing was torn off my ankle.
In the months following my accident, I became obsessed with getting the road stains out of my skirt. I soaked it; I carefully worked to rub out the marks. In a fit of rage I attacked another garment from that day, trying to tear it apart at the seams. Eventually, the bruises and the marks faded. And with that fading, so did the concern of my friends and loved ones. I looked "okay" on the outside. Slipping farther away from those around me, daily social activities began to feel like obstacles of Olympian magnitude. At first I had been terrified of being left alone...Now it was all I wanted.
The internet is a strange place. Completely devoid of reality, we try to make our lives appear as normal as possible. In the months following my accident I tried to imitate life as usual. I posted photos of myself smiling and joking as usual, occasionally letting my struggle slip through. I almost didn't make it. In the weeks that followed my grandfathers death, I dealt with my darkest hours of both self hatred, and hatred of others. Since that day in August, there hasn't been a day where I haven't been in pain. Psychotherapy has been my lifeline. I don't think I would be here today if it wasn't for my therapist.
Which brings me back to my skirt. I haven't worn it since my accident. I got all the stains out. This is a big moment for me, and I'm so happy that I'm here to share it with you.