Recently, in light of the devastating news about my neck injury, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and self-reflection. This year has not been off to a good start for me—between my neck injury getting worse, my grandma’s boyfriend having a stroke, and my grandmother being rushed to the hospital a couple weeks ago (she’s okay and home safe, thank God), and finally learning about the full extent of my neck injury, I’ve been feeling more down than usual. These past two and a half years since my car accident have been turbulent, to say the least, and lately I’ve been feeling defeated. As I said in my confessional about my reaction to the news about my neck injury, I think I’ve been so hopeful, fighting so hard for so long, only to get cut down time and time again, that lately it’s been harder for me to see the light at the end of the tunnel. Yet despite all of this, upon all of the self-reflection I’ve been doing, I’ve found that I truly have grown as a person since I’ve lost everything. In one of my confessionals, I talked about how I picked myself up after my car accident, now it’s time to let you all in on how losing everything turned me into the best version of myself.
In my confessional about how I picked myself up after my car accident, I talked about how I had lost everything—my dream of becoming a professional wrestler I was pursuing came to an abrupt halt, my boyfriend and I were going through our roughest period yet and were trying to rebuild our broken relationship, I had about one friend who was busy with her own life and relationship, I couldn’t go to work, I couldn’t do anything; I had no escape. I felt so lonely, so isolated, I felt like I had no one. No one to lean on, no one to talk to, all I had was myself and my thoughts.
When you lose everything all at once and are left to pick up the broken pieces of your life, a sudden clarity hits you. As cliche as it sounds, it really puts things in perspective. It shows you just how fast life can change, how quickly you can lose control of everything, and how the mundane things you take for granted every single day can be ripped away from you in the blink of an eye. The things that once seemed so important no longer seem to matter.
When everything you’ve ever loved has been taken away from you, you’re all alone in the world, you have no one by your side, no escape, and nowhere to run, you’re basically forced to look at everything differently. You can’t run away from it or pretend it isn’t happening because it’s right there in front of you. All I had was ample time to think. Sure, there were things outside of my control, such as the car accident and my injuries, but the rest of it was all mine. The things I took control of were my my body dysmorphia and my relationship.
Before this point my body dysmorphia controlled me, I let it run my life. After my accident when I lost wrestling, felt my body getting weaker and weaker by the day, and couldn’t go to the gym, my obsessions and delusions about my body suddenly seemed insignificant. I realized the time I’d spent obsessing, stressed over whether or not I was bloated or “looked fat” was time wasted. I was healthy, I was able to pursue my dreams, I had a loving relationship, I was happy—and yet I still allowed my insecurities about my body run my life. When I lost everything, I realized just how trivial my appearance truly is. I found myself wondering what good obsessing over your body does in the end, I thought about how time spent at the gym could’ve been time for me to enjoy myself and go outside because I was healthy and happy. You’d think that losing everything would make it so I focused on my body that much more, but ironically, it was just the opposite. I couldn’t go to the gym anyway because of my injuries, and it didn’t matter; my appearance didn’t keep the things that were most important to me. Losing it all really showed me just how much more there was to life. From there I was able to build myself up, appreciate my body little by little, and find my confidence.
Overcoming my body dysmorphia was one thing, but forcing myself to take a good, long, hard look at myself and my relationship was another. I think the fact that my boyfriend and I were enduring our roughest period as a couple during all of this made me feel even more alone and isolated. It’s hard to describe the feeling, but if you’ve felt abandoned, and just downright f*cking lonely, then you know how awful that feeling truly is. I knew if I didn’t fix it or figure myself out then I would never be happy.
I started by journaling daily. Sometimes I would write about my day and all of the unexciting events and my brief feelings, and other times I would get deeper, and really try to analyze my emotions and behavior. It was through this process that I reached self-discovery. I learned where my biggest fears stemmed from. I realized why I was terrified of being vulnerable, and why I self-sabotaged my relationships before they could sabotage me. It was through this process that I was able to become happier, healthier, and stronger again. I was able to mend myself inside, and in turn mend my relationship. Had I not been forced to take the time to do all of that, I don’t know if my boyfriend and I would still be together today.
I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately, about all of the growth that’s come from such a terrible event, an event that seems ages ago now yet I’m still feeling the effects from. After my shoulder surgery I felt so positive and determined to get back on my feet and to 100% again. I remember thinking that maybe this car accident was one of the best things for me because look at how much I’ve grown—but that was more than two years ago, and look at how much has happened since then. My neck’s gotten worse, I’m nowhere near 100%, and my quality of life has diminished even further. Yeah, I’ve grown as a person, but whatever good karma exists in the world hasn’t come my way. I know people who are downright evil, who drive drunk, who repeatedly make bad decisions and hurt others, and they’ve never had to atone for their sins or feel the wrath of karma. Sometimes I feel like I’m getting karma for other people and atoning for their sins because it feels like every time something good comes my way, something even worse immediately follows it. It can be hard to find the positives living like that for over two and a half years. I f*cking hate pity parties and never go around in pity for myself, but there comes a point when you just feel exhausted. I did all of this, lost everything, learned, grown—and for what? Sometimes it feels like a waste.
It’s easy for me to think and feel this way. I’ve never been as frustrated as I have been lately. It’s easy to lose sight of how much growth I’ve actually done, how hard I’ve worked despite everything that’s been stacked against me.
Although it doesn’t always feel like it, and I sometimes for the life of me still can’t understand why this had to happen this way, I think that maybe—for some unknown reason—that this was all meant to happen to me. I don’t know if I would’ve gotten a handle of my self-destruction, if I would’ve overcome my fear of vulnerability and my body dysmorphia; who knows if I would’ve found true self-confidence. Maybe I would’ve stayed healthy, kept on pursuing my passion, and maybe I still wouldn’t of been truly happy. Maybe I wouldn’t of ever been able to stay in a relationship without ruining it. Losing everything made me grow.
I’m really proud of the person I am today. I’m proud of my strength, for overcoming more than most people will ever know. I’m proud of how I’ve handled everything despite how unfair this has all been. I’m proud of the fact that in the midst of all of this, I haven’t lost my faith. I haven’t given up spiritually because I know how life works and I know that life isn’t fair, and God is not going to be able to answer every prayer right away. I’m proud of the fact that I’m strong enough to understand that sometimes things happen for no reason, and maybe we’ll never learn the reason, either. I’m proud of the fact that I took my love for creativity and writing and channeled it through this blog and writing a novel. I’m proud of the fact that I’ve never allowed myself to wallow in self pity, I’ve accepted things as they are and moved on. I’m proud of myself for growing when I could’ve given up, for taking control of the things I could control, and for giving myself, my boyfriend, and friends and family the best, most flawless version of myself yet.
“Rock bottom became the solid foundation on which I rebuilt my life.” 💎
– J.K Rowling
For my confessional on how I picked myself up after my car accident, click here.
For my confessional on my reaction to the devastating news about my neck injury, click here.
For my confessional on what I learned from letting myself be vulnerable, click here.
For my confessional on how I overcame my body dysmorphoia, click here.
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