I Am Making It.

If "take a college class with brain & spine injury while enrolled in full time rehab" was ever on my bucket list (It. Was. Not.), we can officially CROSS IT OFF, people.

During those two weeks right after my accident where I was in so much pain that I didn't focus on anything other than trying to remember my own name, I just assumed I would be going back for my last semester of junior year and everything would be normal. 

But then I was thrown into reality. How could I go to school if I couldn't even remember my own middle name or focus for more than 0.7 seconds? I wanted to quit school. I couldn't do it. And then I was thrown into reality: part 2. Because I have a brain injury, all of my brain connectors that knew how to go to school, how to be social, etc. were basically dead/killed/gone/whatever. So my brain needed to re-learn everything, including how to go to school. And it needed to start re-learning now or it would be even worse later. So they made me stay in two classes.

Guys, it was ugly. UGLY. There are absolutely no words that could help me explain what it's like to go to school with a brain injury. To go to school when you are now dyslexic and have no idea how to deal with it, your brain literally cannot concentrate on anything at all, you are having speech problems, and you can't retain ANY information. Not to mention when you hyperventilate every time someone talks to you too fast or too many people are speaking at once. 

My saint of a mother is getting the biggest room in Heaven, without a doubt. I have screamed, cried, and yelled just about every day, even though I know there is absolutely nothing she can do or say to make me feel better. And I'm not a mama, but I know it kills her.

But I did it. I DID IT. 

I took two classes and I (barely) made it.

This end-of-the-semester reflection is going to be a little different, but here we go.

1. Fitz from Scandal tweeted back at me.
I know, I know. That's silly. BUT. I'm obsessed with Scandal. And I love Tony Goldwyn. And I loved the scene between Cyrus and Fitz. And regardless of how you feel about same sex relationships, Cyrus and James are SO SWEET. And you know it.

2. I had to embrace the neck brace.
That "love the skin you're in" shit got reallllly real, reallllly fast. I'm pretty used to it now, but I'm still contemplating getting "IT IS A NECK BRACE, IT IS NOT CONTAGIOUS" tattooed on my face.

3. I turned 21.
And spent it in rehab. And forgot it was my birthday 4 times that day. And was in bed by 10pm. But HEY-- I did talk my doctors into letting me have one teeny tiny drink. And at least I was here to hate my birthday and the birthday attention for another year. Otherwise it would've been a very sad day for my parents, and my uncle would've forgotten it was the deadline for taxes. ;)

4. I did this at OT.
It looks simple, I know. But it's not when you have brain and spinal injuries. It's taken my 4 months to do this and I cried so hard when I was done. Still not sure if I was crying because of the unbearable amount of pain, or if I was experiencing happy tears for the first time. I used to think those were so dumb.

 

Rolling myself over (mostly) by myself for the 1st time

Balancing for the first time with help from my OT holding my hips so I wouldn't fall for the 100th time.

5. I have a new found love for hammocking in an eno.
IT IS SO GREAT, PEOPLE. My rehab doctors are constantly trying to find something that boosts my mood and relaxes me. I looooove my babies and they are my favorite mood booster, but I can't always say they are relaxing. :) So my OT suggested I try relaxing in a hammock outside. It's good for my spine, I get some fresh air, and it's actually VERY relaxing. I'm addicted. And my OT loves it, because she's always like let's go outside and get some fresh air and be one with the earth and stuff. I love Linda even more than I love my eno. 

6. I discovered one of the devil's creations and it's called Social Rehab.
We've established that my brain has forgotten how to do a lot of stuff. That includes being social, going grocery shopping, etc. I have insane social anxiety these days. I get extremely overwhelmed when I'm around a lot of people. When they are all talking, my brain can't focus on even one word being said. And my brain just doesn't know how to deal with social settings.

So I have what's called social rehab. We go lots of different places-- the library, a park, a clothing store, and finally.. Walmart.

I have not been to Walmart by myself since my accident, and I haven't even really been that much at all. I can't walk for that long so I would have to get in one of those motor chair thingys, and just thinking about it makes my stomach hurt. So I usually make my sister go for me. Lucky her.

But this weekend, one of my rehab doctors made me go to Walmart. On a Saturday afternoon. For an entire hour. Now, I already hated Walmart long before my accident ever happened. I HATED IT. And this? Well, it did nothing but make it worse.

And that day? Well, let's just say that I left Walmart in a very pitiful state and had to go back. Twice. Because I forgot my purse. And my dignity.

See, sometimes God and I have some communications issues. Before social rehab, I do a lot of praying. And I always throw in, "And God, please, FOR THE LOVE, do not let me see anyone I know."

And then?

I SEE FIVE PEOPLE I KNOW. While I'm breathing into a paper bag. In Walmart. With my rehab therapist. On a Saturday afternoon.

So I'm like, "Really, big guy? FIVE PEOPLE?" And God's like, "What? Do you think I'm a miracle worker or something?" 

Um. Uh.

Yes.

THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT YOU ARE.

I crack myself up sometimes.

Anyway. That's where I'm at right now

My rehab gets more and more aggressive every single day, and it doesn't look like it will be stopping any time soon. I will be starting my summer class soon, but it will be online so that I can do it at rehab. I asked my rehab doctor about 100 times if she was SURE I couldn't take a very long brain break. 

She gave me that "you poor, pitiful girl" look and patted my shoulder, which means no. 

Insert cranky, evil Alexa glare here.

So, so, so much love to all my peeps who make it possible for me to take all these baby steps on my road to recovery. My cognitive therapist, who helped me study and do my homework every day at rehab, and proof reads my blog posts so they will actually make sense. My speech path, who deals with cranky and frustrated Alexa every day when we work on this new dyslexia crap and is helping me re-learn sarcasm so I can get back to my sarcastic, snarky days. :) My OT, who doubles as my 2nd mom/life coach, works so hard with me, cries every time I get upset, and hugs me like I'm her own daughter. My PTs, who have way more faith in me than I have in myself. My TBI counselor, who lets me say every cuss word known to man until I feel better. My sweet, amazing friend, Brianna, who is taking this rehab journey with me and completely understands when I'm over the moon excited because I rolled onto my side at PT that day, and understands why I feel the way I feel after a really bad rehab day. God gave us each other, and while I'm not sure why it was under such terrible circumstances, I'm so thankful.

And, of course, my family. The only people who don't stare at me when I have my neck brace on. The people who finish my sentences for me when my brain can't find the words, and don't say a word when my brain is exhausted and I'm being a cranky lunatic. 

I know I haven't been good with words or feelings the past few months, but I couldn't do this without you guys. Every single one of my siblings, aunts, uncles, and cousins. It's been 21 years and none of you have left my side yet. How did I get so lucky?

Thank you. I love you more than I can say. When I'm having one of my really bad days, my rehab therapists always ask me what keeps me from giving it all up. And every time, without a missing a beat, the words "my family" come out of my mouth before I even know what I'm saying. And they smile. And I do too.

I am making it. I am hanging on. And it may be a really thin, frayed piece of rope, but I'm still not letting go.

Day to day, I don't feel like I'm making it. I feel like I am failing at rehab every day. But when I look back, I realize that I've come a long way since January, when my body was covered in bruises and sprains and I could barely feed myself or move at all. 

I did it. I'm making it.

Because I can truly do all things through Christ who strengthens me.

I just didn't realize it until now.

The Jesus Blanket Burrito

First off-- let's just talk about how freaking awesome technology is.

I love to blog. I love to write. But it takes me so many weeks to finish a blog post because I can't look at a computer for long and typing is still a little hard for me sometimes because of how many problems I'm having with my fine motor skills. So, instead of typing, I can just use voice-to-text. How cool is that? So just picture me sitting on my futon, talking at my iPad. Obviously I don't love it as much as typing, but my OT says I need to "work on adjusting to this new life right now". Blah blah blah. :)

ANYWAY.

My faith has been pretty off since my accident. Believe it or not, getting slammed into by a truck and having your world turned upside down does not leave you feeling all blessed and faith-filled. It just doesn't.

First it leaves you shocked. I didn't feel any emotion other than pain for probably the first 2 weeks. Then it leaves you severely pissed off, because not being able to do anything for yourself gets very old very quickly. Then you start seeing doctors and important people who basically have your life and future in their hands, and you realize just how much shit you're actually in, and it leaves you completely and utterly devastated. There is no moment where you think "I feel like a big bowl of sunshine and gosh I'm so blessed" when they are throwing words like "life threatening" and "paralysis" and "long, intense rehab" at you.

You can pray every second of the day and beg and try to bargain with God, but you still fall. You can't stop it. It's kinda like riding Splash Mountain at Disney World for the first time. You are all "Pleeeasseee noooo, not the big drop, stop stop." But in the end, you're still going down the big drop and getting soaking wet.

I prayed and begged, but I still hit rock bottom, like most TBI patients do. They warned me. I dreaded waking up in the morning because I felt like I was waking up from a nightmare only to enter another nightmare.

So I waited. I listened to the KLove radio station nonstop. I tried to focus on the fact that the doctors are amazed that I didn't die. I listened to other people tell me they were praying for me and hoped that would be enough. Finally, I threw my hands up. Figuratively speaking, that is, because I'm not able to lift my arms up yet. But you get the point.

And then two weeks ago, it just happened.

I could feel Him. I mean really feel like He was right there with me the whole week. In the good moments when my new neuro/spine specialist said I shouldn't have to worry about paralysis anymore unless I plan to go get thrown around in a mosh pit (more on that later) (the doctor appointment, that is, not the mosh pit), and even in the horrible moments when I was sobbing (I'm talking ugly crying, people) at rehab because everything hurts and my body doesn't know how to do anything and YOU WANT ME TO DO WHAT? 

I was in TBI counseling and started laughing when we were talking about how much this sucks. My speech therapist was teaching me how to deal with developing dyslexia at age 21 and tips to remember things like my own middle name and I was cracking up. I couldn't move the arm bike at PT without help and I was laughing even though I was crying because there was a 70 year old beside me who has more body movement than I do. I was crying (I do a lot of crying at rehab if you haven't picked up on that) when my OT was trying to get me to balance on a therapy ball and I kept falling off, but for some reason I was still laughing.

WHY?

I had no clue at first. My TBI causes my emotions to go all over the place and laughing has always been my natural defense mechanism, so I figured it was that. But then later that day, my friend Brianna who is also going through rehab after a bad car wreck, text me this.

He is working on me. He's working on Bri, too. That's why I am able to laugh sometimes when I should absolutely not be laughing. That's why I can fall off a freakin' therapy ball at OT for the 100th time and still feel taken care of. Because He is taking care of me.

And there's just something really great about finally being able to feel like God has me wrapped up in His gracious, loving arms.
 
It's like being wrapped up in a big Jesus blanket burrito.

But, of course, it doesn't always stay like this. Every now and then I don't feel like this at all. I feel like I have been thrown out of my warm Jesus blanket burrito. And that makes me feel the same way I feel when I am forced out of my comfy bed blanket burrito every morning by my alarm clock-- CRANKY.

But then my brother calls. And my kids give me sweet, gentle hugs and say in their precious little voices, "I wove you Ms. Awexa." And my OT gives me a piece of really yummy pound cake after a really hard session. (Have I mentioned how much I LOVE Linda?!) And I vent to my friend Brianna and she is like, "YES. I COMPLETELY UNDERSTAND."

And then I'm right back in the warm Jesus blanket burrito, and I can feel Him. I can feel Him taking care of me. I can feel Him working through all of my therapists. I can feel Him when I am trying to read and figure out the difference between a "b" and a "d" or when I am trying so hard to do something as simple as squeeze my shoulder blades together. I can feel Him covering me with peace, love, and strength.

(Side note: Please do not be offended. I know that all of my doctors, specialists, and therapists are taking care of me and helping me heal! I just have no doubt that God is also working through them. I truly could not do any of this without such incredible doctors, specialists, and therapists!)

A medical update coming soon. Just wanted to share my warm Jesus blanket burrito first because it's nice to escape the scans and tests and medical talk for a while. Please continue to pray for me and my family as I continue on this crazy rehab journey!

At my most recent appointment with my new neuro/spine specialist, he said, "It may not seem like it right now, but God gave you a second chance. Don't waste it."

He is taking care of me.

"He will cover you with His feathers and under His wings you will find refuge." Psalm 9:14

It does not have to be bearable.

So I'm just now writing a follow up post about my MRIs because I was waiting until I knew what to say. I got the paper that said what the radiologist saw, but then I had to wait for my neurologist to look at the pictures and get back to me. And THEN I had to talk to my physical therapist about her thoughts. So I have tried to avoid the subject as much as possible.

My brain scan came back clean. No brain bleed, just a very big dent in it where I smashed the window with my head. Yay! But that means my memory loss, speech problems, etc. are post-concussive and TBI problems, which means I could be this way for a few years or for life, and while there are ways to help, there is no cure. No yay.

My neck is just in bad shape in general, and my PT said I have ligamentous instability or something like that, which just means my spinal cord ligaments aren't stable which is part of the whole dangerous/becoming paralyzed possibility. I have a disc that's out of place a little bit, and my spine is straight instead of curved as a reaction to all of the pain.

So. Where do we go from here?

I'm back in physical therapy. My neck and back are such a mess that my PT is just doing manual stuff right now. Basically, when we move our muscles, they pump out toxins (there's a bigger word for it because they aren't actually toxic), but my neck and back muscles aren't functioning properly so my PT has to do it manually. Sounds nice, a neck and back massage, except it's not because mine are in such bad shape that it's unimaginably painful.

Because I was hit from the side and not head-on, I got side-to-side whiplash rather than front-to-back. My PT said side-to-side is a lot more damaging than front-to-back. One of my injuries on the night of my accident was a cervical spine sprain. Apparently they should have given me a neck collar to wear for a couple weeks, but since they didn't, my neck and spine have been fighting to hold my head up for these past couple months and it has just done even more damage than I probably had to begin with.

After we (hopefully) see improvement in my muscles, we will slowly move to exercises to get my neck, back, arms, and the rest of me to start functioning and regain strength. It's going to be a very slow process (and we all know how patient I am), but I'm so thankful that my friends at Drayer are taking such good care of me!

My next step is to find a neurologist/spine specialist that is A) closer to Starkville and B) a lot better than my awful neurologist in OS.

I will also be starting occupational therapy and speech therapy soon as well. In occupational, they will work with my brain and probably fine motor stuff. We will work on concentration, reading, retaining information, and other stuff like that. In speech therapy, we will work on things like keeping up with fast-paced conversations, producing sounds, figuring out how to form the sounds in order to say what I'm thinking, and listening stuff.

I am doing that stuff because it's really hard/impossible for me to read or concentrate or process what someone is saying to me. It's taken me weeks to write this. I also have a really hard time doing things like understanding sarcasm or figurative language, producing words when I want to say something, and when someone talks to me it sometimes starts to sound like gibberish rather than English.

And that is just really trippy when you've been speaking English for 21 years.

So that's the update.

Honestly, it SUCKS. All of it. Every tiny bit of it.

I hate being in unimaginable pain 24/7 and the memory loss and all of that, but mostly I hate that this makes me feel inadequate when I used to feel like I could accomplish absolutely anything. And since I'm a bit of a control freak sometimes (okay, a lot), I absolutely, positively HATE that I did not have any control of this at all.

I mean, wouldn't it be nice to have control over what happens to you?

Can I see my life schedule for today? Um, no, I absolutely will not allow someone to run 2 red lights and slam into me with their big ass FX4 truck and turn my entire world upside down. Cross it off.

I know the saying. You can't control what happens to you, but you can control how you react to it.

I KNOW that. So I smile and nod when someone says that to me (please, FOR THE LOVE, do not say that to me). And all this time I've tried to let everyone see that I'm okay and that I'm hanging in there.

But that's just it-- I'm only hanging in there. And I don't mean chillaxing on a nice, sturdy peace of rope. It's more like a very thin, frayed piece of thread and I am white knuckling it. I'm not even going to pretend I'm made of steel and that this is all bearable.

Because IT IS NOT. But here's a really cool thing my very bestest friend, Amber, recently told me that I never even thought of.

IT DOES NOT HAVE TO BE BEARABLE AND I DO NOT HAVE TO BE OKAY.

Sometimes it isn't so unbearable that I want to hide in my bed forever. I love those times. But other times it consumes every part of me, so much that all of the love and encouragement in the world will not make me feel better whatsoever. And I know that I've been defeated that day. And I'm exhausted and grumpy and so sad because I was made for so much more than what I'm capable of doing right now.

And that is okay.  

If you are talking to me and I am listening but not saying as much as I normally would, please know that I am just struggling with my speech at that moment and am too embarrassed to say so.

If I am irritable and starting to get edgy, please know that, more than likely, I am not mad at you. Sometimes the pain gets the best of me.

If I keep asking you to repeat something, please know that I am listening, and that my brain is trying to process what you are saying but sometimes it just can't comprehend what you are saying.

If you have the worst day of your life or just feel like complaining, please know I think your bad day is just as important as mine and I would love to hear about it. You slipped in front of a bunch of people on campus and I failed miserably at physical therapy. Everyone has their own stuff to deal with and I know that.

Please keep me in your prayers as I continue to try to make decisions about what is best for me as far as therapies, doctors, and classes go.

The doctors said it would be best if I stopped trying to be Pre-Accident Alexa and just tried to embrace New Alexa. My injuries, especially my TBI, have changed a lot about me, but don't worry, the same Alexa heart is down there somewhere.

And I don't know when or how long it will take, but she'll be alright eventually.

I have faith in her. :)

I hear cervical collars are in this season.

Are you there, God? It's me, Alexa.

Think of your biggest fear. The one that makes your muscles tense up just from thinking about it. Now triple it, and that, my friends, is what getting a brain MRI and a cervical spine MRI feels like.

If you've never had an MRI, thank the Good Lord Himself (or the universe, or Buddha, or whatever suits your fancy) right this second.

I had one done for my wrist before my surgery, but I was laying on my stomach with my arm stretched above my head (aka the most uncomfortable position in the world), so I couldn't see how small the tube was.

In case you're wondering, IT'S VERY, VERY SMALL, PEOPLE. Teeny. Tiny. Microscopic. Minuscule.

Each MRI took about an hour, give or take 10 minutes. They have headphones that play music, but of course I couldn't use them with the 2 MRIs I had to have. Just. My. Luck. The tech asked me if I was claustrophobic and I said yes. She said, "Oh. Um, hang in there!" as she pressed the start button. I figured I could handle it, until I realized that the top of the tube was approximately 3 INCHES FROM MY FACE. After that one was over, they let me get out while they changed the equipment for my brain MRI. And that one was even more fun because, not only was the tube 3 inches from my body on all sides, but there was also now a CAGE AROUND MY HEAD.

Take a nap, they said. It will go by quickly, they said.

If you've never had an MRI, then you also don't know anything about the obnoxious sounds that come with it. There's a reason they give you earplugs, and it STILL sounds loud. Curious? Here ya go. Click through to hear all of the different obnoxious sounds. Then, plug your computer up to surround sound speakers, turn the volume all the way up, and stick your ear right next to the speaker. You know, to get the full effect.

Now, I work at a daycare. I am going to school to be a teacher. I grew up with a big Italian family. I can handle noise, I really can. But this? For over an hour? TWICE? Well, that's enough to send someone to the nut house.

So now I'm impatiently waiting for results. I had to call a million times and get it faxed a million and three times and my neuro doctor's office finally got it. So now it's going to take my neurologist approximately 8 days to call me back, because that's how long it took them to contact my physical therapist after we called a million times to inform him of the life-threatening red flags that started popping up.

Maybe I should rewind a bit. I started physical therapy a couple weeks ago, but my awesomely brilliant therapist (thankfully) noticed some very concerning things when she felt my neck, did a few tests, and asked about my symptoms. It's hard to turn my neck and my head, neck, and spine are constantly in tremendous pain, along with other not fun stuff. So it's looking like there is a lot of brain/neck/spinal cord damage that was either missed or developed after I saw my neurologist.

Awesome.

Are you there, God? It's me, Alexa. HELP A SISTER OUT, PLEASE.

(Again, that is.)

(You did a great job not letting the car wreck kill me. I appreciate it.)

(Really. I'm very grateful.)

(I try not to ask for much! Okay. I'm done. You rock. As You were.)

(And yes, I am, in fact, referring to one of my favorite Judy Blume books.)

Despite my efforts to prove to my doctors (and everyone else and their mom) that I could return to school full-time, I'm now going part-time. I decided they were right. With these types of injuries, I'm just not capable of being the over-achieving perfectionist (I hear admitting it is the first step) I was before getting slammed into by a speeding, red-light running truck. Of course, I didn't realize this until the 40th time I was throwing my books across my living room because my vision was getting blurry and I wasn't even close to being halfway done with my homework.

But it is what it is. I'm taking my two (technically three, but two classes are combined) important elementary ed classes now and I'll take the other ones this summer. I dropped my honors stuff. Studying abroad in Spain is off the table.

Of course, this is only the plan for now. Everything could change again when I get my MRI results back.

So. I'm checking in with a doctor every two weeks. My kitchen counter gives me flashbacks of my Nana's because of all of the medicine bottles and my AM/PM pill divider. I've invested in an obnoxious amount of heating pads. My mom comes up every couple of weeks to cook, clean, and organize my apartment because she's the best mom in the world. And I go to class on Tuesdays and Thursdays thanks to my amazing teachers who are willing to work with me so that I can keep working towards being an amazing teacher myself.

I don't know what my MRI results are going to say. It's one of those "hope for the best but prepare for the worst" kind of things.

But I'm doing my best. I have more bad days than good, but at least I get up, and at least I try. Even if I do it reluctantly sometimes.

Luckily I have the daycare and babysitting to lift my spirits.

A few weeks ago, I had a drink with me at the daycare. I'm not a big soda drinker, but I was drinking Root Beer that day. One of my sweet, funny 3yo boys was sitting on my lap and looked at my drink.

Him: Ms. Alexa, what are you drinking?
Me: It's root beer.
Him: My daddy drinks beer!!
Me: No, no. ROOT beer. It's soda like Coke and Sprite.

Except I forgot most 3-year-olds probably haven't encountered Root Beer yet. So all the parents in the daycare heard, "MS. ALEXA IS DRINKIN' BEER AT SCHOOL!!"

Did I mention how much I love my sweet, precious, innocent kids?!

My doctors think I'm crazy for actually wanting to go to work, but they just don't get it. Sure, my neck and back hurt a lot, and I have to tell my kids to be gentle to Ms. Alexa sometimes. And maybe I should be using that time to do all of the resting I'm supposed to do. The doctors think of the ways I could get hurt, but they never think of the ways it heals me. Somehow, playing Mario Kart while babysitting my favorite kids and being in that messy, chaotic daycare room heals me. And no, it's not healing my brain or my neck or my spine, but--this is going to be so cheesy so get ready--it's healing ME. It's healing my heart (I told you--cheesy) and lifting my spirits. When I don't want to get up in the morning, I do it anyway because I love those sweet babies and all of their hugs and silliness.

So that's where I'm at. I wish I had lighter topics to blog about, but this is pretty much every day for me. Every now and then I have a really good day, and I take in every second of it. But this is where I'm at most days. I'm trying incredibly hard to cling to my faith, because it's really all I have left at this point, but that is WAY harder than it sounds.

Pray for good results. Pray for anything that doesn't require me to quit school, quit work, and have surgery. Pray for peace. Pray that one day I can look at a stoplight while driving without being scared to death and feeling my heart rate increase. Pray that my taste buds will go back to how they used to be, because I miss being in love with pickles. Pray that I start feeling like pre-accident Alexa, because I really miss that funny & bubbly girl.

Also, pray for Brianna Medina. She's a sweet girl from my hometown who was recently hit by a drunk driver. She has a lot more injuries than I do, but she is also dealing with spinal cord injuries. That kind of stuff turns your world upside down.

And please, for the love of God, do not run red lights. 

Writing it out and letting it go

Thank you all for your texts, calls, visits, and Facebook messages over the last week and a half! They all really lifted my spirits while I was throwing myself a nice little pity party. My extended family members have checked on me daily. My parents have stayed up all night with me and have done everything to help me out without me even having to ask. My sister has run tons of errands for me. And my brother was there for me the whole time he was home, even before my wreck, and (as always) kept me laughing through the shitty stuff. My memory may be shady at times, but I never have to question how lucky I am when it comes to my family. :)

I'm bitter.

Actually, I'm more than just bitter. I'm pissed off, irritated, and even sad I guess.

Writing it out and letting it go.

It's 3:44pm on Monday, January 6th. According to my original plan, I should be in Starkville at work. Playing in one of the centers with my kids or sitting in a chair watching them play while one of them sits on my lap and cuddles with me. One of them is my sweet little shadow. He follows me everywhere, and is scared that if I'm out of his sight for 2 seconds, I'm not going to come back. It's why I make so sure to be there every single day.

But I'm not there. Instead, I'm in bed for the 7th day in a row. In my bed in Ocean Springs, with one ice pack on my head, one on my neck and shoulders, and one on the incredibly impressive bruise I have on my side. Sometimes I switch it up and lay on the couch instead, but only if I'm feeling adventurous. All because one person ran a stupid red light.

Writing it out and letting it go.

Isn't it insane how much power we have? One person went through a light, long after it had turned red. And now my car is ruined. Every part of me hurts when I move. I have a hematoma on my head that makes me feel like I smashed a window with it. (Oh wait.. I did.) I have a massive, ugly bruise on my side that hurts worse than smashing your head through a window, if you can believe that. (And two siblings who are dying to poke it. Two siblings who are 18 and 24, might I add, and no, I'm not joking.) I have an awesome concussion that makes me too dizzy to walk on my own sometimes, and I have "April 15th" written on my hand because sometimes I can't remember things I've known my whole life, like my birthday. My mom's name. My middle name. How to spell my last name. Believe it or not, Cacibauda is the worst last name to have when you are having memory problems and can't remember how to spell your own last name.

And ya know what? I'm bitter. I'm mad. Maybe I wouldn't feel this way if I had been texting and driving, or if it had been my own stupid action that caused the accident. But it wasn't. I do not text and drive. I do not run red lights. All I did was press the gas pedal a few seconds after my light turned green, and I'm the only one who got hurt. The best part? The other driver didn't even get a ticket. Nothing. I have gotten pulled over for accidentally forgetting to put my blinker on, even though there weren't any other cars around and I didn't hurt anyone. But when someone runs a red light, sends another car spinning down the highway, and sends a person to the hospital? Nothing. IT'S SO FRUSTRATING.

Writing it out and letting it go.

She is, however, going to have to pay for my car, my ambulance ride, my two emergency room visits, my neurology appointment, and vestibular rehab.

That should make me feel better. I should be all about forgiveness. People make mistakes. I make TONS of mistakes daily. But to me, running a red light long after it has already turned red is a choice. You know what you are doing and risking when a light turns red when you have plenty of time to stop, and instead you press the gas pedal harder to speed up.

I'm bitter, because it's now Thursday, and I'm still in bed. I still haven't gone back to Starkville. I have gotten out of the house a few times, but I can't stay out long because I tire easily. I mostly just sit in bed, watch Grey's Anatomy, and knit. I figured that knitting was a good choice, because it requires little movement and would at least make my brain feel like it's doing more than just staring numbly at the TV.

I'm supposed to take it slow, I get that. But I thought "slow" meant a week. This is day 10. My muscles aren't as sore, but they still tense up a little when I'm near a stoplight. My bruises are slowly fading, so that's good. The size of my hematoma is going down, but the problems it has caused are still around and will probably be around for a while. I dread nighttime, because every time I close my eyes and drift off, I usually see the bright lights of a truck speeding towards me and that's not super fun. It's just like those scenes in movies.

And I know I should just be counting my lucky stars or thanking God that this is all that's wrong with me, because I've watched enough Grey's Anatomy to know that it could be a lot worse. I was screaming on the stretcher in the ambulance, but my EMTs were amazed that I didn't have more injuries. If I had pressed the gas pedal right when my light turned green instead of waiting like you are supposed to, the truck would've hit me right in the middle of my door instead of by my mirror. And the way the doctors looked at me when they told me that was their way of telling me that I probably would have died.

Maybe 40-year-old Alexa will laugh at 20-year-old Alexa for feeling like this is the worst of the worst. But right now, failing my neurologist's balance tests and not doing well on brain exercises 5 days before my new classes start feels like the worst of the worst. It's hard because your brain isn't something that is easily fixable like a broken arm or a few bruises. I almost feel guilty, because the first thing everyone says to me is, "I'm so thankful it wasn't worse" and the first thing I think every day is, "I'm so mad she ran a red light and did this to me."

So I'm writing it out and letting it go.

Because I know that if I wake up mad about something I can't change every single day until I'm 100% better, the only person who's losing is me. And the doctors told me some of these symptoms could be around forever, so if I'm waiting until I'm 100% better, I could be waiting a long time.

So I don't actually know if writing all of this out is really going to help me let it go, but it sure has made me feel a little better.

And really, I think I'll be okay if I only make it to 95% instead of 100%, but I'll keep trying to get there by (impatiently) taking it one day at a time.

Maybe I'll start by not focusing on the fact that right at first I won't be able to run around with my kids as much as I usually do. Instead, I'll focus on the fact that I will get to hug them over and over again on Monday and every day after that.

And, as I'm sure you can imagine by now, I can't freakin' wait.

Saying Goodbye to 2013: Not with a fizzle, but with a bang.

Well, it's the end of another year. That means everyone is looking ahead, making plans and goals, waiting for better things to come. I'm doing that too, but I've also been thinking a lot about the stuff that has happened this year. 2013 certainly brought a lot of change.

Let's look at some of the highlights, shall we?

1) It snowed in Starkville.
Out of all of the fun times I've had-- nights out at the bars with friends, hilarious game nights, road trips, dates-- this day was the most fun. Everyone was happy and carefree that day. Our biggest concerns were winning snowball fights and keeping our cold toes from falling off.

2) A few of my best friends and I ran away to the middle of nowhere for a weekend.
Dedeaux, Mississippi, to be specific. But that's basically the middle of nowhere. We were supposed to be responsible, helpful adults at a high school retreat, which we totally were.. for approximately one hour each day. It was like going to the retreat when I was in high school, except it was better because I was an adult helper and could do whatever I wanted. Grown up life is so fun sometimes.

3) I pretended that I could actually be a sorority girl.
In case you're wondering: I cannot. I'm a sorority girl dropout. BUT I did have some really good times, and I met a few girls who make the greatest, most loyal friends. It was an, um, eye-opening experience, but I should've known it wasn't going to be my cup of tea since I've basically been more of a boy my whole life. (Not in the I-want-a-sex-change way, just in the I'd-rather-play-baseball-and-video-games-and-hate-shopping-and-most-girly-things way.) But hey, at least I've experienced it just in case I somehow end up having a daughter that is exactly like my sister, whose cup of tea contains the color pink, a lot of glitter, and the sorority life. Shudder. However, having to constantly hear my family tease me by quoting the SNL skit "DELTA DELTA DELTA, CAN I HELP YA HELP YA HELP YA?" makes me wonder if it was actually worth it. ;)

4) I was constantly reminded that I'm surrounded by the best family.
I celebrated another year of living surrounded by all of these people that I love, and--this is the part I never get over--love me back. A call from an aunt or cousin doesn't make me think something is wrong, because it's not unusual to hear from them. When we all get together, my younger cousins run and greet me with hugs and squeals, just like I used to greet my older cousins. It never gets old, and it's always a blessing.

5) MSU (my college) and UVA (JT's college) played each other in the NCAA Super Regional.
As most of you know by now, JT and I are very competitive. Pretty much everything we do is a competition. So when we found out our college baseball teams were playing against each other, a lot of (friendly) shit-talking took place. Zoe has never taken an interest in our need to turn everything into a competition, which makes her face in this picture even better. On top of taking a hilarious picture, MSU won. BOOM.

6) I gained another beautiful, sweet, wonderful baby girl cousin.
AND SHE IS JUST PERFECT. I pretty much gain at least one new cousin every year. What can I say, Italians are good at reproducing. This year, it was Lucy. My heart turns into a puddle every time I hold her.

7) I've started making grown-up plans.
JT went with me to check out a grad school in Maryland and I've started to read every single word and solve every single problem in my GRE study book. Scary. As. Hell. But I know it's all getting me one step close to my dream job. And yes, call me crazy, but teaching is, in fact, my dream job. This time next year, I'll (hopefully) be student teaching in the Maryland/DC/Virginia area while applying for grad school and a real teaching position. Scary. Exciting.

8) I had wrist surgery.
After 5-6 years of wrist pain, I discovered there was a cyst in my wrist. (Does anyone else enjoy the fact that it rhymes as much as I do?) So I had it taken out. It was just as obnoxiously annoying and painful as it sounds, and now I have another scar to add to my collection. My surgeon and physical therapist deserve a medal. So does my mom, because she was my post-surgery nurse, and I'm sure you can imagine how cheerful Independent Alexa was when she could only use one arm and could hardly do anything for herself. But it ended happily, because now my wrist is pain free, and I love being able to pick up and play with my kids without worrying about them hurting it.

  

9) My heart was stolen by humans who aren't even old enough to tie their own shoes.
My biggest fear has always been that I would start working with kids and not love them the way I thought I would. And then it just happened. I hold them when they are sick, and don't get upset when they accidentally throw up on me, even though I know I'll end up sick in a few days. I read someone their favorite book over and over and over again, even though I'm SO TIRED OF IT. I tie 12 pairs of shoes and unbutton/button pants 300 times a day because I guess velcro shoes and pants with elastic aren't a thing anymore. I stay up extra late to plan lessons and activities even though I know I could just slack off and just let them play in centers the whole time. But I love it. I love them. I think of them when I'm on vacation, I pray for them before I go to bed, and I cry at their daycare graduation. Every day, I get to teach and take care of people who are someone else's whole world. I get to learn about their favorite things and their little quirks. I get to love them and be loved back. How lucky am I?

10) I gained the most beautiful guardian angel.
I could have lived without this one happening. But it happened. Most days, I am so jealous of my aunt, my Nanas, my friends, and my other loved ones in Heaven who are getting to experience Dane's sweet smile and personality. I can only imagine it's even better now that he's an angel. They got to spend Christmas--his favorite time of year--with him, while I spent it here, feeling my heart break a little more every time I look at a Christmas decoration. But on some days, when somehow it's feels a little easier to breathe and carry on, I'm thankful to have such a wonderful person watching over me.

Life is weird sometimes. Last night, right after I typed that paragraph about having a guardian angel, I went to Walmart for my mom. She just needed a few things to make a certain dip for our New Years Eve party and even though I despise Walmart, I offered to go. I got in and out pretty quickly (because I hate Walmart) and I was waiting at the light to turn left onto highway 90. My light turned green, I waited a few seconds like you're supposed to, and then I pulled out. I blinked, and then a truck plowed into me right by the driver's side mirror, and sent me spinning at least 300 feet down the highway, after my head hit my window and shattered it. My mom has always said I have a hard head.

They say your life flashes before your eyes when something like that happens, but it doesn't. Or it didn't for me. When I was spinning and screaming all I thought was Dane, please help me. Help. Please help. And then the car stopped spinning. I screamed for help until a nice guy finally stopped and called the police and my parents. The rest was cloudy. Ambulance ride, CT scans, x-rays, an annoying thing wrapped around my neck, the stabbing pain of an IV, and a lot of really good drugs. My head isn't as cloudy today, but parts of these last few paragraphs may not make as much sense as they should.

I'm a little bitter, I must say. I can't move very well, there are huge bruises and little cuts on me, and we were still finding glass on me at 1am. But then again I'm thankful, because the police kept telling me I should have more than just bruises and a huge bump on my head. The woman in the truck ran a red light going at least 50 or 60. She didn't even put on her brakes until after she had already hit me.

Do I have the best guardian angels or what?

Overall, I'm kind of glad 2013 is over. I'm not one to wish the days away, but these last few months have been extra exhausting.

Please, please, please drink and drive responsibly tonight. And every night. Put your phone away, don't fight in the car, don't get distracted. Pay attention. PLEASE.

I hope you all have a fun night, and I hope the new year brings you a lot of happiness. As for me, I'll spend tonight surrounded by family and friends, along with some really good drugs and a lot of ice packs.

But hey, at least I'm here. I ended 2013 not with a fizzle, but with a bang.

Literally.

And May All Your Final Grades Be A's

My 5th semester of college has come to an end. Meaning I have two more semesters in Mississippi before moving to Maryland/DC/Virginia/somewhere in that area for student teaching and then hopefully grad school and a big girl job.

HOW DOES THIS KEEP HAPPENING SO QUICKLY?

Every now and then the semester feels lke it's going by painfully slow, but it's usually just speeding by.

So, here we go. What I learned this semester: the fall 2013 edition.

1) TV shows make it look cool when your favorite coffee shop knows your name and your "usual", but it's actually just quite sad. And when they know your name, your 2 favorite coffee drinks, your favorite snack, AND the project you are currently working on, you probably live there and have hit a low point in life. Thanks for always having my back, 929.

2) Staying up extremely late to drink wine and watch lots of New Girl with your friends sounds like a good idea until the next morning, when you are surrounded by 3-year-olds who don't care that you only got 3 hours of sleep because MS. AWEXA HE TAKED MY TWUCK FWOM ME HEY MS. AWEXA MS. AWEXA HE TAKED IT. Yeah. Whoever said you can sleep when you're dead probably didn't work with children.

Getting twelve 3yos ready for their Christmas program: melts your heart and makes you want a drink all at the same time.

3) When you and your little sister, who looks exactly like you, attend the same college, life gets very confusing for you AND your friends. In August, I was at a party with my friends and I got asked, "Wait. Weren't you just wearing a different outfit a few minutes ago?" at LEAST 15 times. I had no idea what was going on until I turned around a while later and realized my sister was there too. It's only gotten worse since then. Tip: if you think it's me, but the girl has on a lot of pink/sparkly things on and has a bow in her hair.. it's DEFINITELY Zoe.

Us? Twins? Nahhhh. :)

4) In case you're wondering, group projects DO, in fact, still make me want to beat my head against a wall. Unless I'm in a group with my friends that I made in Early Block this semester. Otherwise, I'd rather stick my head in a blender.

5) Sometimes people don't care as much as you do. Care anyway. Don't let anyone make you feel stupid for being passionate about something. Never apologize for being smart and working hard.

6) Basically, I didn't know how awesome of a thing physical therapy is until I watched myself go from not being able to do more than move my fingers right after my wrist surgery to having my range of motion and strength back after 3 months. PS: wrists are really important in every day life. PPS: Drayer PT in Starkville is basically the best place ever. They didn't even pay me to say that. :)

7) People are worth so much more than the craziness of life or being on time for work. Walking into work 2 minutes late is nothing compared to the way you feel when you run into a friend and cut the visit short because you're rushing to work, only to wake up to a phone call two days later and find out that friend is gone forever. Slow down. Take the time.

One of my favorite pictures/memories. Missing you more every single day.

8) You don't fully appreciate a warm apartment until you pay your own bills. College Alexa, you are dumb. I know having your thermostat switched to "off" has made your electric bill SO CHEAP, but turn on the freakin' heat and stop freezing every night.

It's been a pretty good semester, even though it FLEW by. I can't believe Christmas is almost here. It's weird, because I used to dread growing up because I thought Christmas would stop being fun. But really, it's just different. I'm the one that moves our snowman that is "Santa's helper" around my daycare classroom every evening after my kids leave, and watch their eyes bulge out of their heads when they find Chilly (that's his name.. because he's a snowman.. get it?) the next morning. I'm the one making little treats arrive from the North Pole when the kids are extra sweet.

It's weird though, because I love being the one creating the happiness and doing the giving so much more than making a Christmas list and receiving gifts. I looove watching my kids' faces light up. And I guess my wants just aren't really things you can buy, ya know? I want my friend here, celebrating the holidays with his friends and family. And I want all of those sweet Starkville kids to have warm jackets and 3 meals a day during their Christmas break, because I'm 20 and I hate being cold and hungry so HOW do those babies do it? And I want my brother to be home on Christmas Eve for ornament riddles and gingerbread houses, because those special things only happen once a year.

I would give up my gifts for the rest of my life for those things, because if there's one thing I really learned this semester, it's that material things and all of those stupid things we obsess over just DO NOT MATTER. And let me tell ya, that lesson felt like a punch in the stomach. And the face. And the heart. Basically it's kinda like being run over by an 18-wheeler, which I'm assuming is something none of us have actually experienced. Are ya catching what I'm throwing, people?

Do lots of giving. Make time for the good stuff. Love your people. Be home for the holiday traditions.

The end of 2013 has been rough, but I'm still counting my blessings.

Blessing #1: I made it out of this insanely busy semester alive. Hallelujah.

Happy Holidays, sweet friends. May you catch up on sleep and have happy days, and may all your final grades be A's. :) See ya in 2014!