By now it should come as no surprise that this whole healing process will be a lot longer than myself or anyone could have originally anticipated, and yet there are still times where I am taken by complete surprise when faced with the fact that I am not better, as of now. When that happens I feel the adrenaline surge, the frustration fuel up with intensive angst and desire for resolve, and then quite predictably it peaks—hold for one, two, three—just like those scarce, suspended seconds on the curve of a roller coaster at the very, tip top.

And then just like that it goes down.

What this looks like lately is less of a dramatic dip due to certain mood medications I am instructed to ingest, but I can still feel myself becoming very, very small and still and the slow well of the tears fill up and the beginning of the losing battle to keep them at bay. I sigh and shift and look down at my feet until I am able to regain composure, meaning, until I am able to accept and surrender. Until then though, it goes something like this:

I thought I had a plan, albeit perhaps not a very definitive or completely satisfying one, but it was a plan in progress. Don’t we all when we wake up and map out our day, our week, our month, the rest of the year? I was working, my job was stable, I was exercising regularly, and even getting out more on the weekends, something I had yearned to do but put off until the infamous later. I don’t understand, I just don’t get it, and all I want to do it wake up and you to tell me it’s all over, this was all just a weird, strange dream and now we’re done, I can go back to my life, my work, my normal.

I remember that night so vividly, and the days leading up to it. I was always fascinated with stories of sudden and unforeseen life changes. After reading them online I would feverishly spin around and lock onto my co-worker sitting at the behind me and proclaim, “Look at that! Don’t you know? Your life can change on a dime.”

Today I found one of my dimes.

The day I climbed up on that chair in July, the day I got into the car in September, the day I walked into the chiropractor’s office in October, I had no idea they would bring me here, today, writing… waiting. When I went to go make a follow up appointment today and she said, “April?” and all I could think of was why and where is my life I knew I had hit my threshold, especially when as I exited she added, “Have a Merry Christmas!”

And I didn’t even turn around to say anything back.

I was angry, not at her, but at the world, at God, at my situation, at feeling stuck, at being trapped in a place I don’t belong. And just where is the acceptance in that?!? Exactly.

It is so important for me to pause here, to breathe, to remember I’m being taken care of no matter what, and I’m right where I’m supposed to be. This is hard, no one is saying otherwise, but I cannot change so many things and if I start to accept, instead of argue, the experience will be all the more fluid. I just have to keep asking for that wisdom in the interim.

“Acceptance of what has happened is the first step to overcoming the consequences of any misfortune.”
—William James