innerglow

Recovery in Process

Being at home for a week, I'll have to admit 2 things:
- Home is definately the best place to recover, and it still feels great being 'back'
- This situation is really, really hard sometimes
(I can't walk yet - it's going to take at least 5 weeks before I'm even allowed to stand on the leg I had surgery on - and I'm still experiencing every day that my 'head', my brain, just needs lots and lots of rest)

Though my life seems so strangely reduced - to taking a shower as a very time consuming activity, to going out with my parents, while I'm in a wheelchair (gosh, people just stáre..!), to reading magazines and books, but only slowly and for short periods, watching some tv - the days seem 'full' to me.
Full with all kinds of small things, and I try not to feel useless, sad and simply upset.
I'll have to admit, there are moments - moments that I feel frustrated, that I can't help but to cry.
But I'll carry on, because it's not only that I'll just have to, it's also the knowledge that by giving in to feeling depressed I'll only make things harder.

Last night, I went to see my uncle in hospital, and it was só saddening. How he is litterally reduced - to a mere shadow of who he was. It has come to a point that we all hope he doesn't have to suffer for too long anymore. It just makes you feel so powerless, unable to do anything. Because after all, we'll just have to wait, hope and continue to love him.

For the future, there's so much I don't know now. I don't know how this is going to work out, (though the doctors assured me that I'm going to be totally ok again, in time) or how it's all going to affect my studies - if I can be a little selfish now, let me just be honest and tell that I've worked so hard on that one the past half year, and that I just hope that's not all going to be for nothing. 
But I'm learning a lot too, like how letting things go isn't necesarily a bad thing - even for a control freak like me, who hates it.

Out of the ordinary.

As we all know, life can surprise you. There's a certain kind of things that simply happen to you, wether you like it or not, whether you see it coming - or even are able to immagine it would happen.
(Het 'overkomt' je, is iets wat ik de afgelopen dagen vaak gehoord en zelf gezegd heb.)
Some things are theoretically possible - but still, you just NEVER think they're going to happen, especially not to you or the ones you love.

Fridaynight I was driving home from work with my younger sister. She's got a scooter and was driving, I was on the back. We had to stop for gasoline and, meanwhile, we were talking - the way we always do.
The weather turned very, very bad. It was dark and it started to rain.
We didn't wear helmets.
Untill there, I remember the course of events. (What follows, is what I know is true but only since it is what I was told.)
My sister took a slightly different road. Her view was limited, by the dark and the raindrops.
Out of nowhere, we were hit by a car, who's driver hadn't seen us. (We hadn't seen the car either.)
The next thing I remember, is lying in a bed with all kinds of noises, lights and wires around it. After what seemed like hours, or even days, I thought I was going to TOTALLY LOSE MY MIND, if I would still be in this kind of pain for one second to come. Right that moment, I heard people talking about a morfine-pump to be attached to me, and I felt totally relieved. From then on, I believe I was in some sort of delirium. Every once in a while, someone would wake me up and ask me a simple question, like my name, age, the date, that I was able to respond to.
Only would I be so tired by simply answering that I couldn't do anything but go back to sleep.

My sister and I were badly injured by the crash. My little, darling sister had had a big smack on her head, her knee was swollen like a balloon and she was wounded in several other, minor ways. Fortunately, she was doing quite ok very short afterwards and could go home from the hospital.
My case, was a little different. My leg was broken in two places, and I had had surgery for that the same night. My head too had made a huge smack and my entire face was swollen and wounded. According to my sister - who remembers it all - I've been screaming like a baby, or an animal.
For myself, I think not knowing details, the not-remembering, is better. But the knowledge that she's got terrible things in her memory, breaks my heart. Just like it has broken my heart when I first noticed she was in so much pain.

Sunday was my birthday and in some sort of way, I do believe I was aware of that fact. Doctors just kept saying 'Gefeliciteerd!' and asking whether I knew what special day it was. (Which even started to annoy me at some point, and if I had been my regular self, I'm sure I would've made a sarcastic remark.)
In the future, I'll make sure to re-do my birthday - when I'm ready for it!

Wednesdayafternoon, my 'knowing-of-self', as'll call it, started to return and from that moment on, things started to go better slowly, day by day, piece by piece. I could talk again, laugh, make some jokes - which totally relieved my family and the doctors.

This morning I could finally go back home with my parents, and it just feels like being in heaven after that long days in hospital. (Even though the nurses were great, I'll have to admit.)
I still can't walk by myself and regular things like reading are a lot harder than they used to (not because I don't have the actual ability anymore, it's just that.. well, focussing and paying attention are a little tricky and tiring still, but according to the neurologists/braindoctors, that'll be ok in time, with lots of rest.). So now you know why there's possibly more mistakes in this piece...! ;)
(It takes me quite some time to write it, but I wanted to do it badly though.)
There's so much to this, on the one hand I don't know what to tell or where to start/continue, but on the other I just don't know where to stop.
I know one thing, and that's that this is something that'll stay with me, with us, forever.
I am nothing but deeply grateful to be alive and to be myself (or more like my old self every day) again.
The time that's to come now, is going to be hard - with no idea when I'll be able to study again, or do all that other things I value most in life - but the reall fight is already won, because after all, what matters most is that we're still here.
When I get frustrated for having to rest all the time, ask for all that I want and getting confused this often, I simply remind myself to how great it is that, in the future, I've still got time, possibilities and power.
There's simply too much things I still want to do, too many places to see and new things to experience...!
(When I started to feel like me again, I realized once more how happy I am that this summer I decided to gó for Italian, because it's a thing I truly love. And after all, doing what you love is one of the best things in life.)

Simple things we tend to take for granted. But really, life itself from day to day is incredibily precious.
(That also became sharply clear to me when I heard that my uncle was doing very, very bad when I was still so sleepy all the time. It's deeply sad that in his last days, he has to suffer so much.)

Thanks to everybody who thought about me and my family this week - we really, deeply appreciated it!
(Even when I was in that sleep-state, I remember trying to focuss at óne thing, to keep myself a little 'grounded' by simply looking at cards people had sent or thinking about the sweet messages we got from friends, relatives... I'm sure it helped!)

Tutte le cose così - everything like this...

Avril Lavigne - Move Your Little Self On

Yesterday has been quite a heavy day, I guess.
I woke up early, time for yet another driving lesson. Unfortunately, it didn't go so well.
Then I decided that finally, this was The Moment, to drop the bullet, as you could say. So I discussed the whole idea of quitting with my teacher. I'd given this thing a lot of thought - as you'll be aware of ;) - and tried to explain myself in a brief but clear manner. It actually went pretty spontaneous, and I was glad of that, because it made the actual conversation fluent and at-ease, instead of the pretty awkward situation I had feared.
It turned out that my teacher admitted she thought I might be right, about quitting perhaps being the best thing to do now. So I'll contact her after the weekend, and tell her whether I'll continue or just stop. But deep down, it feels like I've already taken my decison. (I'll better have, for all the thoughts and time I've already invested in this particular issue, if I may say so...!)
And, suprisingly or not at all, the answer'll have to be no.
No, because something inside me is simply against putting money, money and even more money into something that doesn't really pay off, the same about effort and time, and no too, because - as I'll always be ashamed of but have to admit - because I'm tired. Tired of dragging on with something for so long without seeing any improvement of noticeable form. Tired of doing allthethingsatthesametime (meaning school, work - I've got three jobs now -, keeping/pulling myself together, drivinglessons), since I'm actually more of a one by one, piece by piece-type girl. I like to observe, think through, decide, do and then reflect (for the rest of my life, if that'll be possible - even if it doesn't help or even dis-help me).
Not that all of that has anything to do with driving, or maybe, on a deeper level, it does.
(Because by all the thinking goeing on, my reactions to anything may be quite slow - or slower than most people's reactions - and especially in traffic, that's not a good thing.)
The rest of the day went on in a kind of numb feeling, studying, watching some tv, walking the dog, having some food (yes, yes, even if eating-alone isn't a pleasant thing in my current mood). After that followed some work, which was pretty boring but nice, in a way, too.
When I was driving back home with my mom, who was kind enough to pick me up at work (which reminded me of the fact that now it was official, I won't be able to drive myself to work or anywhere for that matter for the next couple of years, at least - a rather sad thought, but not that depressing, for I've been kind of preparing myself of that, just in case.)
She told me my uncle was in the hospital now, after having a serious, and very frightening attack earlier that day. He's 'fine' enough to return home this afternoon, but we're all very aware of the fact that his situation has worsened a lot the last month. His birthday is monday actually, a strange reminder of the fact that time passes -by, no matter what, and that life is short indeed.
Last night in bed, I couldn't help but feeling overwhelmed, inondulato (that's an Italian word that means that a big wave, onda, has came over something - exactly how I felt).
I cried, just because I couldn't stop thinking about my uncle, totally alone in a crowded, dark hospital.
With all small tragedies, taking place all the time, all over the world - what can we do but simply take it piece by piece, one by one - as bigger and smaller waves try to overflow us?
Deep down I know we all have the strenght, the ability and the courage to ride it, to keep ourselves standing - on top of the waves.
As long as we'll hold on, to each other, and to all days yet to come.   

Tu, pure, o principessa,
Nella tua fredda stanza,
Guardi le stelle che tremano d'amore e di speranza!

Even you, o princess,
In your cold room,
Look at the stars, that tremble of love and of hope!

Everybody sees its you
Well, I never wanna lose that view

So we'll crawl
'til we can walk again
Then we'll run
Until we're strong enough to jump
Then we'll fly
Until there is no end
So let's crawl, crawl, crawl

What can I say, right now? Perhaps I just don't know.
I've had a great time this weekend; my friends, party, fun. Just fun, nothing else - simplicity.
But on the other hand, I'm still gaining - yes, really, though I actually can't/don't want to believe it.
Deep down, it just makes me feel so sad.
(A bit desperate, that too... whát do I have to do to stop it??)
I know what counts and where the real world is. Where I belong, where I want to be.
But the one thing seems to be just as real as the other; and they're starting to mix up...

C'mon - common sense

Suddenly I see thís is what I want to be.

In spite of my last post - which had, as a whole, a rather positive sound - the last days, I didn't feel so good.
A short summary; me was feeling fat, lonely and my parents just fought a private (or not so private) war this weekend. This added up to the little things I'm sure I've told you about before (driving lessons, uncle, etc. - sorry, did it again, couldn't help but writing it down - another time).
But just a few moments ago, common sense just hit me, while looking at myself in the mirror (or lo specchio if you like, which I do, because that's just one other great Italian word, but let's get back to the original story here). Because after all, was I really willing to flush all the hardwork, all the effort I'd put into simply becoming my happier self again, away?
I realized the answer was, as always, no. Not really, no.
And feeling sorry for myself and whining around (which I had to admit I did) just isn't me, after all. That too.
(It's so not me that I really didn't know what to do with myself while feeling like stated above.)

So forza, so long to misery; welcome back to carrying on.