In the RKG Discord someone asked what people did to get past their lowest time. I wrote out this whole answer that included my life-threatening medical trauma–then I deleted it because it’s not really helpful. “Go almost die and then you’re life will be changed.” Not only isn’t it replicable, it’s not even true for everyone.
I discovered this was really true because someone mentioned my post (must have read it before I deleted it) and said it hadn’t been that way for them. I owned up to it being my post and rewrote what I wrote. I had also mentioned Taiji, therapy, and friends, so it wasn’t just ‘die and come back to life’, but that’s really the crux of my new lease on life.
I also didn’t say that I had literally died twice and came back because I’m not comfortable delving into that too deeply yet. Not because it’s a bad thing or even because it’s too personal, but that it’s just difficult to say in a pithy way that doesn’t completely derail the conversation. But, on the other hand, life-threatening doesn’t really capture the scope of it. I literally died. Twice. I still grapple with that. If a series of events hadn’t fallen exactly in place, I would not be here. I am conscious of that every day. Some days, it’s in the background and it’s not something I am focused on. Other days, I’m in tears as to how beautiful life is (which is where I am right now).
The world is shitty and the situation in America sucks. I am deeply afraid of where this country is going, but I have never felt better about myself in my life. I’m 51, should not be alive, and I’m loving myself–warts and all.
I was thinking about a song that encapsulated what I felt, but I couldn’t think of the name. It went “Have you ever…” and then something, something, something. I thought the group was called Bossa Nova or something similar. There was a part that went, “That’s the _____ I get.” I couldn’t put the pieces together until it suddenly hit me. “That’s the impression that I get.” Which is by The Mighty Mighty Bosstones. I found the video on YouTube and have been playing it on repeat.
It really speaks to me right now from the perspective of the person who DID have to knock on wood. And I have to say that when I had to do it, I came through with flying colors. I didn’t do anything in the moment other than survive, but, sometimes, that’s all you can do. That’s all you NEED to do. This part really hits me:
Have you ever had the odds stacked up so high
You need a strength most don’t posses?
Or has it ever come down to do or die?
You’ve got to rise above the rest.
Yes, I have. It was both the worst time of my life–and the best thing to even happen to me.
I’m struggling with talking about this because I’m not into toxic positivity. I don’t think things always turn out well or that there’s a lesson to learn in everything. My mantra is, “That which doesn’t kill you still fucking sucks.” Except. This did kill me. And it didn’t suck. Well, not completely, anyway. Then again, that breaks the first part of my mantra so perhaps the second part doesn’t apply, either.
I don’t want to belittle someone’s pain or what they’re going through. I’ve dealt with depression all my life, and it’s a bitch. There were times I was catatonic and wished I would die. I lost several years of my life to the cruelty of depression. Couple it with the crippling anxiety I had, and it’s no wonder I haven’t done much with my life. I’ve tried it all in my time. Psychotherapy, body work, EMDR, EFT, antidepression meds, St. John’s Wort, Melatonin, Valerian Root, and more. Some things worked, but with limits.
Then, I started taking Taiji and that has been the most helpful to me in terms of changing me so I have less anxiety and depression, and more confidence. I went from hating my body and face to being studiedly neutral about them. I didn’t hate them (just), but I also didn’t want to look in the mirror any time soon. It was progress, yes, but it was still me not being happy with myself. It w as a matter of degrees and I wasn’t as neutral as I tried to be.
Dying and coming back to life has made me appreciate my body as I never had. I had non-COVID-related walking pneumonia, two cardiac arrests, and a stroke. My body shrugged, said it was no big thing, and kept on going.
I have tried to find other people who have survived such an ordeal, and I cannot find any. There are people who have survived a cardiac arrest or a stroke, of course, but not both–and certainly not two of one and one of the other in 20 minutes. The cold, hard truth is that anyone who survives is not going to be in great shape. I’ve read from survivor’s of one of these incidents, and it’s been a long and arduous road back to being able, not ‘normal’, whatever that means. Back to where they were.
When I woke up, my doctors were very cautious about what I will and wouldn’t be able to do. They mentioned rehab and all the therapists I would need. At home or maybe even a rehab facility. I remember one of them, the occupational therapist, I think saying I shouldn’t be frustrated with my recovery because it could take up to a year to get back to normal (if at all). They all cautioned me as to how hard it was going to be.
Then, the physical therapist wanted me to walk up and down the hallway to assess my muscles and mobility. She had a walker for me, but she told me not to use it if I didn’t have to. I didn’t need it to walk, but I did use it to rest lightly on when I got tired. I walked slowly, yes, but I had no problem putting one foot in front of the other. We walked all the way down the hallway, up the first flight of stairs, rested, then walked back to my room.
The second day, we did the same thing, and then she admitted that she had nothing else to teach me. I can’t get over this, by the way. I needed no therapy of any kind once I left the hospital. I had someone wash my hair once a week, but I didn’t really need that. Or, more to the point, I only needed it because I was very weak after my ordeal.
It’s a miracle. I hated being called one, but it truly was a miracle. But what’s even more of a miracle is that my negative self-esteem has completely vanished. I haven’t become a different person, but I have lost many of my negative traits. It’s astounding. My depression–gone. My anxiety–highly mitigated. My body issues–gone. In fact, I’ve done a 180 on my body. I love it. I can’t get enough of it. I’m so into it that I’m becoming annoying. Plus, I’m cute AF! And I know it.
I said it before and I’ll say it again. I spent all my life hating my body and my face. I’ll take being overly in love with both over hating them any day of the week. It’s a much better feeling, and it’s well deserved.