The Miles Between
A year ago, somebody nearly took my life. Yesterday, I was riding my motorcycle to work, bitching about the cold, and going about my day. I didn't even remember what day it was until somebody pointed at the tattoo on my arm.
One Fucking Year
One year ago, an evening motorcycle ride left me broken on Cerrillos Road. Broken bones, surgeries, months of rehabilitation, and nights spent crying when nobody was watching. But somewhere in the hardest fucking year of my life, I found love, purpose, and something I hadn't truly possessed before: a sense of my own worth. I'm not grateful for the accident. I'm grateful I survived it.
Thanks for the Material, Asshole
The danger of putting your work into the world is that everybody has a fucking mouth, and the internet gave everybody balls. One anonymous asshole decided to make fun of a tooth I’m still dealing with after nearly dying in a motorcycle crash. Unfortunately for him, he picked on a fucking writer.
I Earned That Fucking Picture
Someone at work told me the picture I submitted was too unprofessional and suggested I replace it with one that’s a fucking decade old. Nope. I don’t look like that woman anymore. I’ve aged, changed, died, survived, learned, led, and earned every fucking stripe on my shoulder. The woman in this picture is the woman you asked for.
The List
Almost a year after the motorcycle crash, I showed Dawna the list of everything that had been broken, torn, punctured, crushed, or otherwise fucked up that night. I expected her to understand what I survived. I wasn't expecting the fucking list to remind me how much of it I'm still carrying.
Put Your Back Into the Fucking Plow
Having a hard life doesn't give you a claim on somebody else's success. I've been broke. I've failed. I've trusted people I shouldn't have trusted. But nobody was coming to save me, so I got back up and kept fucking moving.