Life's Moment
by: Alyssa Vanderhoof
What is life about? I find that continuously pondering my mind.I first stumbled upon this question at a young age. At age 7, it's hard to hear your dad sit there and tell you that you might be losing your father; not by him leaving and starting a new family or heading on a road trip with his buddies, but by death. Because after life comes death.
I wasn't a dumb kid. I knew what death was, but the thing that caught my attention was life. What was it? It had to be more than just being alive. There had to be more to it than a beating heart, oxygen filled lungs, and working brain cells. I needed answers. I needed those answers more than I needed TV and candy. And as a kid, TV and candy were basically a must-have.
I tried my best to find different possibilities for my answer, and believe me, I found a lot. However, none of the "answers" i came up with quite fit, so I kept looking. It was like an advanced easter egg hunt and I was looking for the golden egg.
I grew tired of spending so much time looking for something I might never find, so I gave up. If i was meant to find out what life was really about, then it would come to me when I truly needed that answer the most.
Time passed and things changed. Dad got worse, Mom got many jobs, school got harder, and I changed drastically.
I was no longer the happy-go-lucky girl i used to be. I was also no longer curious and inquisitive. My life was no longer about finding meaning or a purpose, but about finding what my day was going to bring, or whether I passed my math test or not. I didn't care about the real answer. I only cared about the answer that would get me what or where I needed.
My blindness led me down the wrong road as well. I seemed to always do the opposite of what I needed to do. While most teenagers were out having fun with friends or at volleyball practice, I was stuck at home with responsibilities. My main need was to tend to dads every need.Being a teenage-adult I also had to focus on the teenage part, which meant homework. I was never a kid who got bad grades or late work. I was a fairly good student.
Most people looked at me as the mature-for-her-age girl with no troubles, but if you looked beyond my sleeves and inside my mind, you would know the truth; you would know I have more scars than friends, more bone than muscle, more sadness than joy, but nobody ever bothered to look beyond the mask I wore each day. Instead, they sat back and watched my pitiful yet eye pleasing display. A display that seemed as though it was played by a professional actress.
At first I knew what I was doing was wrong, but it felt like I had no choice. Everyone else's happiness was more important than my own. That's what I taught myself to believe. I put everyone's needs before mine.
I thought every moment I got by myself was a miracle, but it turns out it actually wasn't such a miracle after all. Those moments I spent alone were spent wishing for something different than what i had: different looks, different weight, different undamaged skin, and a different life.
All the time I spent listening to the burning lies my demons branded into my mind. Those very wounds hurt more than any injury ever could. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know the difference between lies and reality. Nothing felt real.Was I dead or alive? Human or monster? Important or a simple waste of space?
My thoughts and emotions were unreal, so were the actions i used to cope with everything. I thought my harmful actions were the answer to all my problems. I stopped eating, stopped caring, and continued hurting.
During my decision to not care, I didn't realize I was about to lose one of the very few things that kept me alive: my cat, Gizzmo. Some wonder how something as basic as a cat could keep someone alive. To that i have no explanation except for love. Unconditional love. On September nineteenth, I lost him, my reason to live. I lost him to the very thing I once thought I would lose my father to: death.
I no longer had a reason to try. As much as i wanted one, there was nothing. Nothing except an abundance of overwhelming emotions. After Gizzmo died, I gave up everything i had. I gave up hope most of all. My fairly clean arms became a rugged battlefield, my body began to internally bleed with emotions, and i became comfortable in the darkness i was once afraid of.
It took forever to find something that made the pain go away. Eventually, thanks to my friends, they convinced me to join volleyball. Turns out it wasn't such a bad idea. Volleyball allowed me to release every negative emotion that lingered inside of me.
The rush of excitement that surged from my head to the tip of my toes made my heart resemble the sound of the ball crashing against the floor with magnificent power. Not only did volleyball make me happy, it made me confident.
I didn't care what people thought of my body. I didn't care if they thought too tall or too short, too wide or too thin, too bold or shy, too scar covered or not. They had no reason to judge my appearance. I wasn't there for a beauty pageant. I was there to bruise my knees and scrape my elbows while diving for a ball that was so close to impossible to hit. I was there to play volleyball. I was on that court doing what made my life bearable. On that court i was more than a scar covered monster, I was normal.
As i continued to play volleyball, I noticed that for the first time in a long time things seemed okay. Every pin prick of pain seemed to fade. I thought nothing could go wrong. I was unstoppable.
On the night of April 13th, 2014, all of that changed. My normally calm home was filled with an uproar of anger and hatred. Yelling and the sounds of breaking objects shot through the silence. It wasn't the yelling or breaking of objects that got to me that night, but the words of my once-upon-a-time hero, my father. His words explained to me that at that very moment he didn't care about me. Nobody did. Nothing mattered: not love, time or hope. There wasn't a single thing that mattered. Not even life.
His words repeatedly pounded against my eardrum, embedding themselves into my ear.
"I don't care! I don't care! I DON'T CARE!"
That night and the next morning, I felt more ill than a dog who ate a pound of grass. Both my mind and my stomach were knotted and tangled. I hated everything and everyone. I wanted to disappear, to vanish out of thin air, just like a magic trick. The joy of a magic trick comes from when the trick works and the crowd is left in awe, wondering how it could ever happen.
On April 14th, 2014, I created my own magic trick. I vanished from everyone's life out of nowhere.
Multiple dozens of my hero's pills rested peacefully in the toxic acid of my stomach. Eating away the very lining that prevented everything from flowing out. New wounds lined my every limb.
My world went from perfect to broken in a matter of seconds. My life was a shattered piece of glass and it was my fault it had broke.
The now dissolved pills spread throughout my every vein. Within minutes, I was submerged in darkness. Everything was an empty sheet of black.
When I returned to reality I was no longer in a recognizable environment. Giant doors lined the silent hallways. A room with a plexi glass protected TV was filled with rows of unmovable chairs. I was surrounded by people I didn't know, in a place that was just as unfamiliar.I didn't even know what town I was in, let alone what state.
A kind lady informed me that I was currently in a lockdown psychiatric ward. Apparently suicide wasn't exactly "my way out."
She told me this was a short-term facility. In my case, short-term was a lie.
Weeks passed and nothing changed except my physical health. My nearly 100 pound body was unsteady and frail. I was covered in multiple hand sized bruises from my head to my toe. I was a lifeless corpse that bled each time I made the slightest movement.
My days were spent going to groups, trying to stay awake, and attempting to not vomit up every bit of stomach acid to the point where my esophagus would burst. Nights were overpowered by crying and slamming my head against a cement floor or wall. Staff checked on me every 15 minutes. I hardly ever said a word. I wanted to, but my vocal chords were wrapped around my neck and locked in place.
My stay lasted close to 3 months. Yeah, "short-term."
by the end of my stay my liver and kidney had both been on the verge of failure, I was covered in cuts and bruises that late sleepless nights contained, and my demons had managed to act like I was their personal wood burning project full of lies.
Eventually I had to leave the people and place that tried everything in their power to fix the lost broken girl they had first met. No matter how hard I tried to push them away they never gave up on my. To them I wasn't a lost cause, but a chance of hope.
My discharge sprang up quicker than I would have imagined. My room was bare and hospital like once again. I stood in my doorway for a moment staring into my room, but it was different. It WAS my room, but now it was a place for a new kid to find comfort and safety from the darkness like I had.
Memories flashed as I glanced around the room. At first I was hit with bad memories, but eventually the storm passed and better memories rolled in. I was going to miss this place and all the moments it carefully engraved into my heart.
My parents arrived and we packed my collection of items into the car and then ourselves. Before I got in, I took a step back. I got my first look at the building i had spent 3 months in. This would be the last time I ever saw this building, inside and out. I planned to make that idea true. I turned my back and stepped into the car.
For close to 5 years, at each star i saw, I wished for one thing and only one thing. I wished for a sigh of relief. I was no a little bit closer to that wish.
My heart sped and my eyes filled with tears as i left the parking lot. I was finally free. I was trying to decide what to do with my life next when the same question from long ago buzzed into my head.
Life. What was it? As i put in my headphones and blared my music, I continued to wonder about life. I took a few minutes and pondered that question repeatedly.
It was almost a movie moment. Music loud, perfect sunrise on the open road, with a moment of realization. Picture perfect.
Life isnt about a beating heart, oxygen filled lungs, or working brain cells. Life is so much more than that, Life is when you may want to give up, but you keep trying. It's when you can say you've been through hell and back, and you survived! Life is when you can look at all the illuminating colors and just smile. It's the falling of rain from the sky, the sun shining through the clouds, the joya parent receives when they have a child of their own. its as simple as your smile.
Life wasn't, is, or will be perfect or easy, but it will always be worth it.
You can wander down unexpected paths and still some how end up where you want to be, for not all who wander are truly lost.
In life you'll experience anger, sadness, loss, defeat, pain,etc Not every trip is going to be a joyride. On the long road, you eventually come off asphalt and hit gravel on some stretch of your journey.
Our life isn't a movie or a fairy tale in a child's storybook. You may not get your happily-ever-after ending we always see, but you will get an ending that proves life was worth the struggle.
You'll always have questions to ask, or things you don't understand, but the will eventually come. You'll get it when you need it most. You just have to keep pushing forward until your moment comes.
My moment just happened to come after I walked through the blazing fire my own demons lit to burn me down, but I took those flames and set my past ablaze.
M moment came as music flowed through my new world i had built from broken pieces. With nothing on my mind except the lyrics to a song, I stared at the sunrise knowing it was bringing a new day as it rose up from nights ashes. New day, new life.
A smile sprung across my face. My smile was real, no longer a false mask of secrets. At that moment i was brave, strong, fearless, and new. I was invincible. I waited for a long time, and I could now finally do what I had been waiting for.
Slowly I inhaled my future and every strength and weakness it could bring…
And I exhaled a sigh of relief.
The fire was dim and both physical and emotional wounds were healing.
My wish was accepted in lifes moment.
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