Concussaversary

The impact was fatal.  Annihilating a huge part of me when my head hit the ground on that day six years ago.  The bike racer.  This false persona.  My ego completely dismantled.  My truth revealed.  Face to face with the real me.  This new fuzzy reality.  Desperately waiting for my senses to settle.  This brand new everchanging brain chemistry.  Nowhere to hide.  Impossible to keep riding away.  Just me and these demons.  Desperately trying to find a way to tame them.  This past Tuesday, July 5^th, was my concussaversary.  The last time that I pinned on a race number.  The day that the previous version of me died.  It hit me hard for some reason this year.  Partly because of how traumatic this seemingly minor injury has affected me.  And mostly because of how far I’ve come since then.  Without this accident, I am absolutely certain that I would have never undertaken the difficult work of healing my trauma as a sexual abuse victim.  So much internalized shame released.  I truly believe that was the main purpose of this whole ordeal.  The universe’s way of showing someone stubborn and hard headed like me the way to the truth.  I got out for a solo celebratory ride that evening.  Meeting myself by spinning these pedals.  A short gravel jaunt before the rain.  Even if I feel like I’m still healing from this injury, I can’t help but also feel forever grateful for all that it has taught me.  Sometimes the parts of you that once seemed all important need to die in order to make room for much better parts of you to emerge.  It’s never “just a concussion”.  Love your brain.  And always wear a helmet.