I nearly let myself sink into the pits of pity, after the accident.
I was angry, bitter, hateful even. I blamed everyone for the accident, though it was simply that an accident.
No one was to blame really, but at seventeen when you are told you were never going to walk again, you tend not to look at things logicially.
I had once ran track, played softball, volleyball, basketball, and I loved to swin, and now in an instant that was taken from me.
I was sure no one would ever love me.
It took Mom to kind of snap me out of it, she gave me a camera and reminded me that God still had a plan for me.
I had always dreamed of being a photographer, capturing a moment, building a memory in a photo, that had always been a dream of mine, and Mom was encouraging it. Reminding me that it did not take two good legs, to take a good picture, it took a good eye, and a lot of heart.
Somehow I knew Mom was right.
I could not stay bitter at the world. I could not continue to blame everyone. I had to allow myself to start healing.
If I did not allow myself to hear, I was hurting myself, but I was also hurting those I loved.
And I was not so selfish I wanted to hurt my family.
To Be Continued