I thought I would have been inspired to write before now, but maybe I’ve been too busy writing things for Erin’s media campaign, and setting up her website. I’ve been in the US with her for about a month now, and I have three more weeks here until I have to go back to Melbourne. Honestly I don’t want to leave. Just sitting with Erin and seeing the little progressions she’s making is so beautiful to me after being so far away from her for the first two weeks of her recovery. She’s emerging from her coma, and with that comes some light into how aware she is. It seems that she’s very much herself still, and knows what’s going on and little things like whether you eat an apple or a cell phone. She still has some hurdles to overcome, but her recovery is the biggest blessing.
I’m dealing with everything much better since I’ve been able to be with her. No more panic attacks, but I still have days where everything hits me again and I end up having a crying session for a while. That usually coincides with a reminder of the relationship I lost a week after Erin’s accident or an argument with a loved one. But there’s so much to be hopeful and happy about that even that’s happening less and less. Although I do get a pit in my stomach when I think about leaving.
With everything that’s happened in the last two months, and it being the holidays and the end of another year, I’ve been reflecting a lot about who I am vs who I want to be. Five years ago I was just starting to grow up, and coming out of a really rough period of my life. I feel like I’m at another point like that now, which may be because I’ve come home to Georgia and realized I’ve outgrown some of my past relationships. Whether it’s because I don’t have the patience for them anymore or because I’ve gotten past certain stages of life, who knows. A lot of it is that I’ve finally starting accepting my imperfections as a young woman. I make mistakes. I screw up. I’ve hurt people I love when I’ve struggled. In the past I would do anything to find someone else’s forgiveness. I’d beg, I’d do them countless favors, because I’ve always felt that if they didn’t forgive me then they wouldn’t love me anymore, and I used to believe in quantity over quality. But now, I apologize and move on. I know it’s most important that I forgive myself. Unless I’ve done something to really hurt someone, I don’t owe anyone anything. Being able to accept things and move on is what allows us to heal. I’m responsible for my actions, but I can’t change them once I’ve made them. If they’re a mistake, they’re mine to make.
Most of the time I try and act tough, but I’m a pretty sensitive person. That probably isn’t as big of a secret as I think it is, but maybe to some people it is. It hurts me when someone I love is hurting, emotionally or physically. I hate it for them. It hurts me when someone I love and would do anything for can’t see it when I’m hurting and I need them to step up for me or cut me some slack. It still hurts me when people I love don’t do for me what I would do for them, but I’m learning that doesn’t necessarily mean they don’t love me as much as I thought. They just have other ways of showing it. Or maybe I’d do too much. Who knows. Either way, I think I’ve learned more in the last month or two than I probably did in my last semester, except instead of learning about advertising strategies and news pitches, I’ve learned about medical procedures and jargon, accounting, Georgia State Code, HTML and coding, and most importantly, about the way people react when the shit hits the fan (pardon my French). Going through so much of this with her family and friends has been eye-opening on so many levels, even in seeing the way my family and friends have acted in knowing what’s happening in my life right now. I won’t lie, some of them have really let me down and hurt me, but some of them have actually gone above and beyond and I love them for that.
This was a long post, I know. I took a page from Mr. Hemingway and wrote about what’s in my heart. Thanks for bearing with me.
-Rebecca
