madrid to be leaving.

The only other time in my life when my body has been this tired and confused were those first few days after bringing home a new baby. I have no concept of time, no memory of eating, I haven’t slept for longer than 3 hours at a time and my head feels all cold and floaty, like I’m just awake enough to remember to keep breathing.

An opportunity came to me through the dozens of various connections I’ve made in this life and that opportunity had me in Madrid, Spain for the last five days. Until last week I had never been to Europe, traveled overseas or been completely immersed in another country. Sure, I’ve made day stops on Caribbean islands and have spent a few wild nights in Canada, but nothing like this.

No filter. Also, never coming back. Sorry, Indiana.

The dozen years I spent learning Spanish in school seemed to just *poof* leave my brain when it came time for lunch on the first day, I must have looked so frazzled the server brought me a giant glass of wine with a look that said “Oh, honey. You look like you NEED this.” (Only in Spanish.)

It’s very isolating to be in a whole new place by yourself, a place where you barely speak the language and around every corner is something you’d never thought you’d see in your lifetime. I know, *EYEROLL* it’s so hard traveling to Europe, Casey. Cry me a really pretty European river lined with little tables and blossoming trees. Gross.

I’m just having one of those moments, I’m so thankful and grateful and happy and pleased with myself that I finally found something I’m really good at.

Now if you’ll excuse me. I need to sleep for a week.

I have no idea how people travel to Europe with kids — I can assure you that if mine had been with me this weekend I would have lost one.

 

 

 

 

the one about the hit and run.

Early Saturday morning I was sideswiped on the freeway and sent spinning into the center median of I-70.

Whoever hit me simply drove off, they didn’t even slow down.

After getting a clear look at the damage on my car today there’s no way they could have been unaware of hitting me. (Also, if you’re in Indy, it was a light silver SUV of some sort that hit me, the damage would be on their driver’s side front fender, there would most certainly be dark purple paint from my car.)

It’s amazing how many thoughts go through your head in such an intense moment, I almost wish someone had been in the car with me to marvel at how under control I kept things, not over correcting out of the spin and keeping the car relatively under control. Once I stopped against the wall and knew I wasn’t hurt, I calmly went for my phone, called 911 and reported what had happened. I even used manners and knew enough about my surroundings that officers made it to me in less than 5 minutes after I crashed.

Sadly once the official stuff was taken care of is when I lost it. (Which is to say I called Cody and left him a sobbing and shaky message.) Even the officer that reported to the scene asked several times if I really was okay from all the shaking. It was easy enough, cleaning it all up, getting the report taken care of and continuing on my way. But in the aftermath, the quiet that happened once I was truly safe, that’s when the reality of what had happened sunk in.

It could have been so much worse, whoever hit me could have killed me.

I could have hit another car, or been hit by another car who couldn’t avoid me and if you’ve ever been on I-70 you’ll know how lucky I am there were no semis around me.

I figured I was over thinking things, people get in accidents all the time. It wasn’t until I posted something about it to Facebook that I got several private messages from people who had been on the receiving end of a hit and run, all confirming that it’s something that truly does mess with you on some strange indescribable level. (Translation: Good! I’m not crazy!)

Insurance has been a joke to deal with. I have nothing nice to say about auto insurance right now.

Some people have taken it personally that I didn’t wake them at 4 am to tell them I had been in an accident. I really am physically fine, and it’s not as though anyone could have done anything for me that I didn’t or couldn’t have taken care of myself. The mental stuff will require a bit more, I just hate that I now know what it feels like to be hit, to spin out of control and slam into a wall. I know what it all sounds like, which is one of the reasons I don’t watch the news or violent TV shows — I simply don’t want to know what violence and terror look or sound like.

I sleep much better at night not knowing, thank you very much.

Hope you’re all doing well, the compassion and care you’ve shown me over the last few weeks hasn’t gone unnoticed, I’m incredibly grateful for it, for you. Even if I haven’t been able to adequately respond, I’m so thankful you’re around.

on fearing and finding.

It’s a very strange thing to have really big emotions.

When you’re young they’re looked upon as a flaw or weakness, and it continues that way until you’re grown — unless you learn how to use them.

I’m still trying to figure out how to use mine.

Creativity seems to be the best outlet for them, photography — having my camera in my hand is equal to holding onto something steady and solid. It can say things I can’t and see things I can’t describe.

Writing is the same way. Being able to write has saved me countless times.

I’ve been hesitant to talk about the inevitable breakdown I’m facing for a number of different reasons. It’s not due to anything major (at least I don’t think so) but the safety I’ve felt in my medication and treatment for the last several years is beginning to slip. I’m noticing things are getting harder to deal with. Thought patterns are messier. Emotions are getting bigger, harder to handle. I’ve learned from breakdowns in the past that beauty springs up through them eventually, but the pain in the process — as well as the fear of dealing with the pain when it comes — it’s nearly crippling.

Many of you have been checking up on me, thank you.

I don’t know how this part of my story will end, but I’ll keep telling it until I do.