Three Weeks Ago

Three weeks ago.

I try to write this down every couple of days, but have such a hard time explaining the series of events that bring me to right here and right now. Right here and right now is always something a little different every time I try to write this down, which maybe adds up to why this petty task seems so difficult.

So I try and try again, deleting these words that never sound quite right. As an amateur writer who is constantly too embarrassed to share the ideas that spew from my mind a million miles per hour, this seems more difficult than anything I have ever tried to accomplish before. Maybe it just hits home way too hard.

I could word this a million different ways, but this seems the easiest.

Three weeks ago I tripped.

That doesn’t seem so hard.

Death is never an easy concept to think about, no matter how tough we think we are. For years, I have though, psh, death, that doesn’t scare me. I’m a ‘big deal’ and ‘awesome’ and ‘nothing scares me (but spiders)’.

And maybe it’s not so much of ‘death’ that scares me, but more of… I may leave this world with unfinished business.

Do I have a prepared list to share with you the things I mean to accomplish before I leave this plane of existence? Definitely not.

But I know that today, right here and right now, I am not ready to go. I know this now more than ever because I tripped and broke a few glasses, resulting in what the emergency room nurse referred to as a ‘laceration’. That makes it sound so much less dramatic, I suppose.

In my alcohol-induced condition, all I could focus on was the amount of blood pouring out of me. Excuse me if that offends anyone, or makes you want to quit reading this, if you’ve made it this far.

Three weeks ago, I tripped and tried to catch myself on my wine rack. As the smartest of us can deduce, there are glasses on most wine racks (and only one bottle of novelty wine)(okay, yes, it is a pink cat)(no, I don’t plan on drinking it). I broke one wine glass and two margarita glasses in my effort to catch my fall, resulting in this laceration on my left wrist.

At first, it seemed like a scratch that hurt a little. I drunkenly did the stupid option, and tried to rinse my injury off in some cold water.

These memories are a little fuzzy. All I really remember clearly is telling the 911 responder that I didn’t want to die. Several times. While bawling like a child who was just stolen of their last piece of candy.

There is nothing like thinking you are going to die to make you realize that there is so much you are not ready to give up on. While I understand the difference of being sad and depressed, generally, I am neither of these things.

Three weeks ago, I realized what keeps me going, day in and day out. I have focused too much of my time on jobs, on work, on things that weren’t really that important in the moments that went down on August 6th. I have gone through relationships in life – whether they be friends or coworkers or boyfriends or so on – that distract you from what is really important.

At the end of the day, just decide what’s important. What do you want to do with your life… who do you want to spend it with?