The mind comparmentalizes a lot. At least mine does because really, if I thought about how everything works, how everything happens, and how everything comes together, my head might explode. Then life happens and it has this funny way of bringing all sorts of things front and center. Prior to this week, I didn’t spend a lot of time thinking about how my joints work, how I might die, or who my friends really are. Those things weigh on my mind a lot now.
Last week, I left the office earlier than usual (about 5:30) to get to an appointment. I walked my usual route to the train, crossed the street, and then got hit by a car. What happens after that is a bit of a blur. I spent a scary night in the ER. It was really hard that night not being close to my family or closest friends. I hate that over three years into being here that I still feel totally adrift, that something like that could happen to me and that no one here would notice or care. It really makes me wonder if I made the right decision to stay here? More than anything that night I wanted moral support, I wanted a hug, I wanted someone to tell me I’m going to be just fine.
In the end, I reached a friend (though I was uncomfortable admitting that I needed his help and I was scared out of my skull) and he pulled through in surprising ways. He showed up. He waited patiently. He made sure I got home and he even got me a late dinner. But there was no hug and there was no “you’re gonna be just fine” because well, as much as I love B, he’s just not that kinda guy. I came home and passed out. The next day I got on a plane and flew to DC. I had dinner with the President. The next day I turned 32. I had dinner with four amazing ladies. The day after that I flew back to Chicago and I went right back to work. I came home and collapsed again. Don’t ask me how I did it? I think it was some combination of shock, sheer grit and determination, and me figuring that this might be my only chance ever to see the President of the United States.
I know I should be grateful that I’m alive. I know it could’ve been so much worse. But you know what? I’m tired. I’m hurting. I’m black and blue and I can’t really bend my knees. And frankly, I’m a little pissed off because (and I don’t mean to sound whiny) this past year has sucked a BIG FAT ONE and ending the year getting hit by a car frankly felt like getting kicked when I’m down.
I’m too scared now to think about what 32 might bring. I have to think it will beat 31. Mostly I hope it doesn’t kill me.