You have no idea how strong you are...Part 1

This is not some silly blog about my being able to pass by the magnolia bakery and not stopping (although I did do that today at the Grand Central location) or one of those blogs from someone who's never had everything vanish in a heartbeat telling those who have, "you can do it. "I hate those writers and could never tell people going through something it's going to be okay when all signs point to it not being ok.

Take the people in New Orleans who lost everything in Katrina only to rebuild and have their livelihoods jeopardized of demolished because of the oil spill. I don't know how you ride that out, I don't even know how they had the courage to rebuild to begin with. I honestly don't know that I could because I think I am a bit of a coward and the thought of choosing between fight or flight, my hypothetical choice is always run away.

I recently read a story about a couple whose baby passed away at two weeks old and my reaction was, "how do you go on? I think I would die." this is not an uncommon reaction to tragedy, I said the same thing when I heard about Anderson Cooper's brother's accidental suicide and the day David Cook announced his brother's death from cancer. When young people die it isn't normal and loosing someone so close to you, I can't imagine anything but feeling half empty and the constant thought of "why not me? Why was I spared?"

My uncle died when he was 40 and when I think about it, I don't know how my father went on from there. I know that it must have changed him because how could it not, but I was six at the time and you don't really think about that kind of thing at that age. It is, I believe, the greatest loss so far in my life but i did not know it then. When you are six, forty is old and death happens when you get old.

The only thing I knew was that 1. I would never see him again, which made me sad and 2. Everything would be okay because I had my parents and no matter what happened, they would always make things ok. Children are narcissists and the only thoughts are of themselves and the present, as they should be. You never think about, to quote the MWK song Vera, "all the life you'll never be here.” I still think about my uncle, mostly around holidays or on important days in my life but sometimes for no reason at all, and I know that his death changed my life because we are shaped by everything that happens. However, I was so young and it was so long ago that I don’t really think about how or who I would be had he still been with us.

I went on because I never really thought i had an option. Like everything else that happens to a six year old, it didn’t seem odd, it was just what happened and soon enough Thanksgiving came which was exciting.

However, how could the people who actually understood how long "never" is, people who understand the difference between sadness over cutting your finger and sadness of death, get through a holiday? I think the truth is, we all fake it. When something life changing happens we fake being better, maybe it's to look brave or maybe it's some animal instinct we inherited through evolution.

Take for example, the second worst thing that has ever happened to me. Two days bore Christmas in 2004 I was in a car accident, which is to say I was rammed on the driver's side at a speed the turned my car and moved it up the street. Do to some inherent mechanism in the human brain (or at least my brain) that blocks out the actual traumatic incident I don't remember the impact. My memory goes blank after seeing that nothing was coming at the intersection until I am sitting in the car thinking "I’m alive”, hearing someone telling me to call 911, and asking if I could get out of the car. what I do remember clear as day is the police, my mother, later my father, and everyone else I saw that evening looking at the car astonished that I walked away unharmed. I was told that I was lucky to be alive, and I believed it. My car was not as fortunate and four months after getting my first (cute little blue) car, I got my second car.

It was a White Toyota in amazingly great condition and only slightly bigger than my old car. When I test-drove it, I told my parents that it was the right car for me and they bought it for me on the spot. I HATED IT! It was a lovely car but I had been traumatized. The car felt huge and I thought I was going to hit everything in sight. Everyone told me how brave it was to drive after such an ordeal, in reality I shudder at the thought and prayed every time I was going to drive that God keep me safe and out of accidents. What choice did I have though; I had places to go including the second semester of college, which I commuted a half-hour to three times a week via the highway.

So I let everyone believe that I was fine and soon enough the fear subsided. Five and a half years and no accidents later, my Toyota and I have a very loving relationship and I almost never panic that something is going to happen.

To Be Continued