Gratitude

Beta Bites Post 2

I lost count how many times I’ve tried to write this. I may not succeed this time through either. 

My last post was an excited compilation of how an American gets a long-term visa to Europe. My plan for 2017 was to move to Europe, into a van, with my dog, and fly. April 1 was the departure date.

On Valentine’s Day I decided to combine my skiing skills with my speed flying skills into what is usually the harmonious sport of speed riding. About four hours after skiing the resort, dealing with broken down lifts, my friends and I made it to the launch. I launched. I crashed.

I shattered my leg. After assessing my back wasn’t broken and I could feel my toes, I sat up and knew immediately my leg was broken. Looking down at my unusable dexterity, I said to myself “I shouldn’t have been here.”

I shouldn’t have been there. I shouldn’t have flown that day. I wasn’t qualified for the sport, I wasn’t qualified for the site. I’m an amateur pilot, something I’m comfortable stating in usual conversation.This morning I went against my better judgement and gut instinct. 

I crashed. In under two months I would be in Europe. In less than a minute I gave that away.

It’s now May. I’m walking again, though barely. After three months of no weight bearing, my right leg is ready to move again, but not my foot, and I have to deal with significant nerve pain in my heel. I may be able to start walking again, yet I was specifically told no running and no flying. Two things that bring me peace. My leg isn’t ready.

It was after my last doctor’s appointment I made the decision to cancel my Europe plans. After being told I have another six weeks before I’m officially cleared, I went to the pool to swim and practice walking. It was while walking in three feet deep water I stumbled. I stopped focusing on my heel-toe steps, which caused me to lose my balance. No longer am I able to simply walk. One crash, three months, and my calf has atrophied to the size of my forearm. Nineteen years of soccer leg muscle vanished. I am back to square one.

My intention of writing this post isn’t to complain or receive empathy for my accident. I know the dangers of the recreational sports I participate in, and I chose to fly that day. Instead, I want to express my gratitude for my crash.

Life happens, and it will continue to happen whether we pay attention and respond accordingly or not. I am no emotional wonder woman and I have had, and will continue to have, my emotional breakdowns dealing with the repercussions of my crash. Yet, I will continue to be grateful.

Grateful for the lessons my crash taught me about being a pilot and a female in this sport. Grateful for the family and friends who immediately came to my aid and helped. Grateful for these humans who showed me what love really is. Grateful for medical insurance. Grateful for small victories and giggles. Grateful for vulnerability and tears. Grateful for community and a simple hug. Grateful for patience and grateful for purpose. Grateful for the reminder to stay humble. 

My purpose in flying is my own. I struggled with my place within the sport and community. I struggled with defining my own path and asking for what I want. I juggled parts of me, not understanding how they all fit together. I don’t have finite answers or solutions, because change is the only constant. I have changed from my accident, and I am grateful.

DISCLAIMER: I don’t recommend nor do I advise getting into a crash. Getting into a crash doesn’t guarantee you will learn valuable life lessons, and there’s a good chance you will die. 

It's been three months since my crash. Grief is a dark and hard, yet beautiful emotion. I highly recommend watching this video on the five stages. Each time I believe I am through the five, another wave hits. It's ok. Through this wave, I saw I needed to make amends for what happened, both with myself and my community. I am sorry I crashed. For those around me, my mentors, friends, fellow pilots, family, my community, I am sorry I let you down. To me, my body, my soul, my life, even to my dog, my responsibilities, I am sorry. 

In many ways, I am still new to this world. These sports I participate in are forever with me, and I am excited to see how my journey continues. From the day I first leapt out of a plane to stepping off mountains in flight, I feel I have completed a circle. Who I was then, and who I am now are two parts of me, but me all the same. Parts have been pushed aside to make room for the new, old ones have stuck with me but are now fading into the background. 

I shouldn't have flown that day. But, I did. And instead of focusing I what I shouldn't have done, I will say this: even though I failed, the world is better off with me having tried. Doing will always trump not doing. Action will always beat idleness. So much good has come from my accident. More good will come. I am an optimist. 

I guess I was able to write this down. I’ll never be able to fully articulate this part of my life. In years to come, it will look like a blip in my life story. Though, I have three frankenstein scars on my leg as a forever reminder. And how grateful I am for these scars. They will always remind me of where I’ve been, where I am, and where I will be going.