My "First" Tattoo

*this isnt my first tattoo*

Im not going to lie to you... this piece attached was my college personal essay. To this day, i still think of how it took me 9 drafts and a year to perfect this essay. Regardless of its initial purpose, I think it says a lot about me and fits in the "My Life" section of W&W.

VIII - XIX - MMXVIII is what I want tattooed on my arm. The day I fought for a breath. The day my life changed. The day that sparked the question I've been asking myself lately. Who am I? 

I feared a few things for as long as I can remember. I feared disappointing people. I feared not being loved. I feared being alone. And while those fears haunt me daily, the summer of 2018 sparked a new fear. On our way home from church, my mom lost control of the car, and it rolled down a grassy hill, flipping four times. All I remember was screaming, hitting my head, and the feeling of wet grass and dirt on my fingers. Unconscious, I could still hear everything around me. My family sitting over my body screaming, the hands of a stranger trying to wake me, the EMTs lifting me into the ambulance, and the coldness as they ripped my clothing. Finally able to talk, I asked my cousin, "Where are we?". Unable to accept his words, I screamed, "No, we're still at church." I had not only forgotten memories from that day, but I lost moments of time from over the past few years. It was lying down on the hospital bed helpless, unable to move or talk, the darkness pulling me under, both emotionally and physically. I felt myself start to drift, but at the same time, there was a glimpse of light. Focusing on that light, I was filled with peace and hope, and so I pushed through the pain, and I fought for that breath. 

Getting in a car after August 19, 2018, was almost impossible. Being in a car, much less looking at one, triggered so many memories. Thinking that I could get back to "normal," I went to basketball tryouts but quickly ran out. Something about the ball hitting the court reminded me of the car flipping and the bang I heard when hitting my head. Stumbling across track, I was filled with hope, but as I started to run, I felt an insane amount of pain. My knees started buckling, my hips started locking, my legs went numb, and I couldn't move, much less run. The running career I was looking forward to was taken away from me before it even started. The accident didn't just tear away my "normal," but it took my chances of something new as a reminder that I'd always be stuck. 

Running was my stress reliever, the place I used to forget about the endless tears that I cried at night, except, now, I found it to be the reason for more tears. Undiagnosed and living in constant pain, a mother with cancer, an absentee dad, the flashbacks of the accident, the continuous darkness eating at me pushing me to cut myself, my anxiety and insecurities sitting on my shoulders. But because of 8/19/18, I am sitting on the surface of my darkness instead of drowning in it. While I'll fight every day to stay on the surface, that breath helped me find out who I really am, who I want to be. 

After years of trying to figure out the answer to the question buzzing in my head, I noticed that August 19, 2018, helped me be the girl that's no longer living in the past, but the girl who lives in the present while looking ahead to the future. It took me from being the girl who couldn't get through a traumatic event to the girl who turned it into a lesson. The girl who looked for the light in the middle of the darkness. The girl who let go of "normal." 

Who am I? Today, I am nowhere near normal, I am happy, and most importantly, I am strong. Stronger than I've ever been. 

      Ps. I'm still terrified of cars.