Where there is breath, there is hope.
It’s taken me a long time to learn that. Early on in my recovery, I began to suffer from profound survivor’s guilt. The emotional pain was debilitating. I had no clue why I was still alive, especially when so many others weren’t and the statistics were not on my side. I struggled with a philosophical question of what my purpose was for being here. It plagued every moment of my thoughts. Surely there had to be a reason for me to still be alive. People don’t understand that guilt. People think that when you cheat death, you wake up on the other side of the trauma feeling like you can take over the world. That you have somehow become invincible and laugh in the face of fear. You don’t. At least I didn’t. I wondered obsessively why I was still alive.
I searched everywhere for the answer to that question. I read books, talked to religious leaders, interviewed life coaches, and even went so far as contacting a nationally known psychic, which was way outside of my comfort zone. I learned from each of them, but still couldn’t quite relate it to my life and my struggles. What right did I have to still be alive? Nothing in my experience prepared me for this. Nothing could help me understand why I was still here.
Throughout my career in supply chain, I felt like something was missing in my life. I wanted to touch people’s lives. I longed to make an impact on people. And I tried. Through my leadership, mentoring, friendships, but I felt as though I was missing my calling, yet I wasn’t sure what that calling was. I just knew I wanted to make a difference in the world. At the beginning of my recovery, I thought about personal coaching, advocacy, and writing a book, but I had no idea if any of that was viable or even a real option. Amazingly, the psychic, without knowing anything of my history or medical troubles, asked me what happened to my brain, called me a miracle girl, and told me “that book that you want to write? It will come, but first, you need to start doing public talks. Start with local places like libraries, etc. and that book deal will come.”
So here I am. Reinventing myself. Stepping out of my comfort zone and using my experiences to help others. It isn’t easy. I stumble, I fall, I panic and retreat back into myself and question life outside of corporate America. I don’t know if I’ll be successful, but I was given a second chance for a reason. Maybe I have that reason wrong, but I can’t imagine that a commitment to helping others can truly be wrong, can it?
Today happens to be the 2 year anniversary from the day my aneurysm ruptured. I don’t know how something can both seem like yesterday and feel like it was a lifetime ago, yet that’s how it feels. I remember the pain so clearly. I don’t think that feeling will ever disappear. I still suffer with PTSD and have identified quite a few medical issues since my rupture, but I am still alive. I am still fighting. I beat incredible odds to be here. I’ve overcome so much already. Don’t mistake that optimism for believing that everything is wonderful. There are hard days. Terrible days. Some days I have meltdowns and tantrums and that’s okay. But, most days, I live by something my dad always said to me when I was growing up…”I complained I had no shoes, until I met the man who had no feet.”Along this journey, I have met many people who have it far worse than I do. I want to use my voice to speak for others…for our community of amazing people.
For the first time in my life, I feel like I matter. That my life will have an impact. That I can help someone and make someone’s life better. I am blessed and eternally grateful that I have the opportunity to change the world.
For where there is breath…there is hope.
