A Letter to Myself

It's been 15 years since I was in a car accident that altered the trajectory of my life. I've written and posted about it multiple times over the years. Each time differs, as the grieving and healing processes continue. 

Note: links to previous posts about the anniversary of the car accident at the end of this post.

This year feels different. 

The past year has included a Pain Rehabilitation Center (PRC) program, Emotional Awareness and Expression Therapy (EAET) course, and attending a writing support group, all of which have provided me resources and opportunities to make important changes in my life and within myself. I will share more about these in future posts. 

Today, I want to share a letter I wrote to myself. I've written multiple different letters to myself over time. These letters offer compassion, guidance, and encouragement to myself, reminding me that I can and will make it through whatever hard thing I'm facing. They serve as a gentle guide, map, or light for me to get through the difficult times. Here is one such letter. 

My dear self,

I know you’re struggling and your heart feels heavy. Pause and take a breath. 

Feel the air come in through your nose and out through your mouth. Notice how that feels in the body. 

You are going to get through this, just as you have every hard thing before. 

Breathe. 

Rest. 

Identify and acknowledge the emotions and core beliefs that come up. 

Be gentle with yourself. 

Write. Writing helps to gain clarity and release hurt better than anything else. 

Pray. Ask God to come alongside you and provide what you need in each moment. He is faithful. 

Reach out. Jeremy is your strongest supporter in life. Allow him, and others, to be there for you. 

Use the skills and tools you’ve learned and strengthened over the years: breathing, healthy coping and distraction, and resilience. 

You are so resilient! You persevere through challenges. You are a warrior. 

Listen to music. Look for beauty. Bake a cake. Play a game. Write, write, write. 

Do these to help you feel like you again. 

Breathe and let go of what you’re able to. 

I’m so proud of you! I'm proud of you for never giving up, for doing the hard work, for always holding onto hope as well as you were able. 

Keep going, you’ve got this.

Love, Me

Photo by Jamie Valendy

I wrote this letter during the PRC program in 2022. I wrote it on October 10. That day has a history of pain and redemption, over the years.

• It was the day that I was in a car accident that changed my life. 
• It was the day that I started seeing my amazing headache specialist.
• It was the day that I wrote this letter to myself and graduated from a pain rehabilitation program. 

A lot has changed in the past 15 years. I have picked up the pieces of a shattered life, more than once, and chosen what to keep and what to let go of. I have fought battles within (and out) that few or no one knows about. I have worked hard to become the person I am, and I will continue to keep (re)building and growing. 

I've got this!

If you'd like to listen to me read this letter, you can! I was asked to share on a recent US Pain Foundation Building Your Toolbox talk about the importance of writing. Click here to listen on YouTube (https://youtu.be/AolqG1FvoUw). I read at 24:00.

If you'd like to read more, here are some links: 

• The Battle Begins
• 3-Year Anniversary of Car Accident
• 4-Year Anniversary of Car Accident
• Reflecting 12 Years Post Accident
• 13 Years Later, Now

13 Years Later, Now

I recently posted Reflecting 12 Years Post Accident, which I wrote in 2020. Please feel free to click over and give it a read. While I don't post about it every year, I felt the need to, again, this year (2021).

Mixed emotions. That's how I feel, as the 13th anniversary of my car accident approaches. Each year hits a bit differently. It doesn't always affect me. I took the power of that date back several years ago. I know that the date isn't inherently bad... yet, I feel the weight of it a bit more this year.

Photo by Tengyart on Unsplash

This year, it makes sense why it's on my mind more.

On September 30, I woke with what I labeled a "sleeping injury." I had pain and limited range of motion in my right shoulder and neck. I joked about how ridiculous our bodies are, that I could hurt myself while in an unconscious state.

I figured it was simply a matter of sleeping weirdly and that it would dissipate in a few days.

It didn't.

The tightness, pain, limited range of motion worsened each day. I've tried: heat, ice, muscle relaxers, nsaids, theracane, lidocaine patch, gentle massaging and stretching.

My sleep and daily functioning are both being disrupted and limited. I want to write, but I'm having a difficult time physically doing so.

There's an emotional component to this pain, as well, as it's reminiscent of past trauma / pain.

I know that our minds are prone to distort or misremember things, including pain experiences. This is often compounded by time. Understanding all of that, there's still a familiarity with the pain and limited range of motion I've been experiencing.

I injured my neck and right shoulder in a 2008 car accident. While I don't fully remember a chunk of time after the accident, I remember pieces. One of those pieces is that there was a lot of pain and I was physically very limited in using my right arm and neck.

Two years after the car accident, I had a neurostimulator implanted (2010). I had a very long and difficult recovery, including severely limited range of motion in my neck.

I've been doing a good job recognizing the connection to these past traumas / events that my mind and body are making, and reminding myself that they are separate. The car accident isn't happening right now. I am safe. 

In light of current struggles, I'm being reminded:

• Healing isn't linear - past grief, trauma, loss, challenges keep showing up. Each time they do, I do my best to feel it and process through.
• I'm safe - it can be especially difficult to remember this, when there's such similarity in how I feel (physically and/or emotionally). 
• I'll get through this, as I have previous challenges.

Update: I was seen by primary care on 10/5. I woke on the 13th anniversary day (10/10) with the first notable improvement in symptoms since they started. I'm so grateful for that. I have imaging and doctor appointments on the schedule to help determine the path forward.

Reflecting 12 Years Post Accident (2020)

I wrote this post last fall (October 2020), as the anniversary of the car accident approached. 

Over the years, the meaning and emotion of the event have ebbed and flowed in a way that perfectly illustrates the grief process. I've written about this multiple times before: 

• The Battle Begins
• 3-Year Anniversary of Car Accident
• 4-Year Anniversary of Car Accident

When I moved to Arizona in 2017, I started seeing a headache specialist here. It so happened that the date of that initial appointment was the same as the accident. I consciously chose to take back that date; the move and new provider representing a clean slate of sorts. 

This year has been filled with so much loss, on both the individual and collective levels. Perhaps it's in light of this that I find myself more aware, as the anniversary of the accident approaches.

As 12 years post accident approaches, I find myself reflective. 

Photo by Faramarz Hashemi on Unsplash

Following my accident, I fought hard to get back the pre-accident Jamie. I finally reached a level of acceptance in living with this disease, and fought hard for the Jamie I am today. I'm still a work in progress, no doubt. But, in this moment, I recognize that I've come a long way.

I have to be very mindful about how I think about this. It can be all too easy to spin down a path of what ifs. The truth is, the person I was when the accident happened is frozen in time. She very well might've had a different journey, but the person I missed for so long (and sometimes still do) would be whoever she grew to be over the years. And, that, is unknowable. It will forever be an unknown. So, I must remind my mind that the grass may not have been greener. 

I'm grateful to have some people close to me that know me and love me as I am, not who they wish I was. I want to see me through their eyes, to believe in myself the way they believe in me...  with less self-critical judgment. I'm working on it.

Today, I recognize that living with chronic pain is hard, that each year that passes may affect me differently, that grief is a process with ebbs and flows... and... that I can do more than I think I can, that I can engage with myself with compassion and love, that I can give myself space to experience the grief process in all the ways it shows up. 

(As I'm posting this a year after writing it, I'll share about this year's anniversary in a separate post) 

"Loving ourselves through the process of owning our story is the bravest thing we'll ever do." - Brene Brown

Compassion in Greece

Yesterday, I posted about past anniversaries of my car accident:

• 3-Year Anniversary of Car Accident
• 4-Year Anniversary of Car Accident

October 10, 2013 marked the fifth anniversary of my car accident, here's what I wrote...

I had some anxiety leading up to today because I've had some difficulty on this day in the past. But, God blessed me with bringing a memory to my mind, reminding me that He always provides for my needs. Thanks to a Facebook post from my Alma Mater asking what our fondest memory of a certain professor is, I was able to re-live a moment that was painful, but comforting... and writing this blog post has allowed me to re-live beyond that moment.

Just a little back-story... I spent a semester studying abroad at my Alma Mater's campus near Rome. During the semester, the entire class and the Rome semester professors spend 10 days travelling together to a few different cities in Greece. Our Western Civilization professor offered amazing lectures at many of the sites along the way. It was truly a once-in-a-lifetime experience, and I'm so grateful that I was able to participate!

The setting is Athens, Greece.

It was Carnival in the Eastern Orthodox Church (different date than the Western Christian calendar - think Mardi Gras), so the city was a big celebration. I decided to join the celebration in the evening with a group of friends - we were going to spend some time enjoying the festivities and try to find somewhere open to get something to eat.

After wandering around the city for a while, a migraine hit... HARD.

All I could think of was how am I going to get out of this crowd of people and back to the hotel?! I mentioned that I needed to leave immediately to my friends, and thankfully one of the guys said that he'd walk me back to the hotel and make sure I was okay. I told him I needed to get something to eat and something with caffeine to drink - we were able to find a Coke quickly, and then we stopped at the McDonald's just around the corner from the hotel for some chicken nuggets.

Unfortunately, I think I'd forgotten my migraine medication back at the Rome campus. See, these were before the days of chronic migraines... before the days of carrying my meds everywhere I go. I had frequent headaches, but was able to function through most of them. But, my more severe migraines weren't all that often. So, getting something to eat, caffeine to drink, and getting back to a dark / quiet hotel room was my plan of attack.

The girls I happened to be roomed with for those few days were understanding and helped however they could. But, the migraine continued.

If my memory serves me well... I spent the next day in the hotel room, doing my best to sleep off the pain. Honestly, I'm not exactly sure what all happened, but I'm pretty sure I missed out on some things. A large group of us went to church service that evening for Ash Wednesday (in the Eastern Orthodox Church). I struggled making it through the service, and talked with a professor's wife afterward to see if she happened to have any medicine that might help. Again, these were before the days that over-the-counter meds were the equivalent to tic-tacs for me. She didn't have anything, but apparently one of the professors (or his fiance) dealt with migraines and had some meds and knowledge of migraine. 

I talked with this professor, and he helped get me some meds and made sure I was going to be okay. He told me that I'd be excused from the following day's class trip to the Acropolis. I told him that there was NO way that I was going to miss that trip! How could I miss a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity like that?!?! He assured me that he'd help any way he could, if I decided to go the following day.

He checked on me the next morning at breakfast. I was still in quite a lot of pain, but was beyond determined to go with the group. So, he gave me a few suggestions on how to make it through the day outside in the blinding sun. I had sunglasses, a borrowed hat, a jacket or blanket draped over my head... luckily, we'd walk a bit and then stop and sit for lectures at various locations. He checked on me off and on throughout the day. I listened to him lecture. Someone helped make sure I was alright walking places. And, I peeked my head out to see the sites as much as I possibly could.

The Acropolis is one of the MOST interesting and beautiful sites I've ever seen! I would have deeply regretted missing the opportunity to visit it, so I'm glad that I was able to push through the pain and participate as much as I could. To this day, Greece (especially the Acropolis in Athens) is one of my favorite places in the world!

*I'm going to post a follow-up post to this later today, to share a few more reflections... so, please stay tuned.

This post was written as part of the National Health Blog Posting Month (NHBPM). Other bloggers will share their posts on this FB page.

4-Year Anniversary of Car Accident

Anniversaries of my car accident have affected me in very different ways, over the last 5 years. Last year (2012) was a very difficult one...

• 3-Year Anniversary of Car Accident

October 10, 2012 marked the fourth anniversary of my car accident. It actually snuck up on me. I freaked out the moment I looked down on the computer and saw the date, everything just hit me all at once... and hard!

It was all I could do to reach out - I texted with a dear, dear friend that really helped me through that time... and many moments since then. I believe that the way she comforted me was amazing, and is worth sharing.

When someone is hurting (mentally, physically, emotionally), I think there are some important ways or things that someone can do to show they care. Not every person will necessarily be able to offer all of these, but hopefully the hurting individual gets them from one or several people.

Validation
She validated the pain and panic that I was experiencing: "What a horrific thing to suddenly remember and have on your mind. Seems normal given situation... Understandably upsetting. It sucks."

Offer help / support
She offered help: "What can I do for you? Trying to avoid saying trite things..."

Safety
She reminded me that I'm safe: "...want you to remember that you are safe."

Present moment
She brought my focus back to the present: "Look around you. See where you are. Hug Honey Bee. Listen to the noises of the house. You are safe."

Reminder
She shared a very important reminder that I've used over and over again: "Darling, remember PAIN TAKES AWAY OUR PERSPECTIVE. And you are really suffering right now and having memories. Try to stay in the moment, just for right now."

This post was written as part of the National Health Blog Posting Month (NHBPM). Other bloggers will share their posts on this FB page.

3-Year Anniversary of Car Accident

Today marks the 3-year anniversary of the car accident that has changed my life forever.

Back before my car accident in October 2008, I worked full-time. A friend had given me this little perpetual calendar with a Scripture verse for each day, and I kept it on my work desk. Luckily, my previous boss is a dear friend of mine, and I was able to get my personal things back from work.

My accident was on October 10. The Scripture for that day is:

"Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see... By faith Abel offered God a better sacrifice than Cain did. By faith he was commended as a righteous man, when God spoke well of his offerings. And by faith he still speaks, even though he is dead." ~ Hebrews 11:1,4 NIV

The chronic, debilitating pain that was caused by the accident has been a time of great trial for me, affecting every aspect of my life. My faith has been / is being tested.

I try to keep in mind something a close friend of mine told me (on the one year anniversary of my car accident): "Think of today as the anniversary of the day God entrusted a season of spiritual growth, understanding and total dependence upon Him that you would not have acquired any other way."

In the midst of pain that never ceases, it can be extremely difficult to remember that our God still loves and cares for us. But, the lessons that I'm learning during this time are important...

• Trust
• Faith
• Humility
• Dependance / Surrender
• Adaptability / Flexibility
• True Love / Intimacy
• Communication (at least with my husband)

I'm not yet at a point where I can be thankful for these trials and suffering; but I'm doing my best to accept the way things are now, to learn the lessons that come my way, and to build / deepen my relationship with my Lord (and with my husband).