I'm leaving you New Orleans.

 And as of now, I don't know if I can come back. 

I was in an accident. What could have been a very bad accident. I am fine now. I am doing significantly better than doctors said I would. I scared a lot of people- I didn't mean to scare so many people. I am told it was not my fault. But I don't think  the doctors will accept any responsibility for letting people fret. 

If they had any faith in... ANYTHING... they wouldn't have let my family and friends suffer so much. They would have used some sense, some common courtesy and thought, "This woman got hit by a car and then flew a good twenty feet down the street. AND SURVIVED. She just might prove us all wrong and make it." With that knowledge they could have said something nicer to my mom about how I'm young and strong and willful. 

They did not say these things. And for that... I have not been able to forgive them. I doubt I ever can. 

 I have wibbly bits There was a severe knock to my head. I am forgetful. I forget words that I know (it is a dark place for an English Major to live). Eye surgery that hasn't quite set. I have metal in my right eye orbit. Jaw surgery that has essentially rewritten how I speak, what I can eat and how I smile. It has also altered the progress of years of  wearing braces. I might have to get them again. Until that happens I  have a metal strip in my jaw. I have metal in my tail bone too. A swollen right knee. I walk very slowly and with assistance.

 I did manage to break a shoulder bone that did not require a torso cast (because secretly... I know Judo and I Judo threw myself onto the ground in a way did not shatter my shoulder but instead Judo jostled it into a broken but mend-able position. Though, apparently, I don't know Judo well enough to not get my tail bone broken... ). 

I have many wibbly living bits. And for that... I can thank the doctors. 

I am not mad about the incident in a way that makes sense. I am not mad at a driver. I am not mad at myself. I am not mad at a distraction that caused all this. 

I am, to tell the truth, a little mad at New Orleans. 

I came here because my heart was so hurt and I needed time to mend. I came here because I had a degree I'd been aching to use and needed a city that wanted help teaching its children. I came here because I hadn't been anywhere new in so long that I had forgotten what it's like to feel invigorated by a new home. I had forgotten about my need to explore. 

After a year and a half I was starting to get things right. I had learned that love will try to hurt you physically just as powerfully as it had hurt you psychically. I had been hired for a job that I was looking forward to. Something that would mean something to me. It would have changed my jaded outlook on life and maybe resurrected my desire to do better for this world. And I did explore. Maybe not as much as I could have, but as far as my pocket book, my work schedule and my comfort zone would allow. I discovered what COUNTED, what came to mean the world to me. 

And that's when I got in the accident. 

I think at that point... I've just had too many hurts to the heart. I felt that agonizing but ILLOGICAL desperation. 

Did I do something wrong? Have I done something to deserve the good things I have to be taken away? Done something to deserve THIS?

Some people might call it a crisis of faith. But I don't attribute this setback to anything divine. Logically I can't name one thing I might have done wrong. SUPER WRONG enough to get this "issued" to me. It just happens. Sometimes you get bonked around by a car. Sometimes you're with someone that means to love you, but forgets how to be loving. Sometimes, when you wanted to be a teacher, you have to deal with thankless before you get thankful. Sometimes you get so banged up you won't be able to work for a year.

Sometimes you just need a reality check and you need to get some rest. Sometimes you need to go home. 

So I'm going home to New Mexico. I need to have a quiet brain space. 

I need desert power. 

A month ago, during a speech therapy session, I was told I might not completely re-establish my speech patterns and word knowledge. I was told to, "Prepare myself for the worst." I promptly said, "That won't work for me. I'm going to be a teacher. I'm a poet. I spent half a decade reading all of the words and then writing papers about all the words." 

With that, I began proving them wrong about this "prepare for the worst" theory. 

The people who care very deeply for me... I would not have been able to do this without them. At a party (thrown in my honor) I was invited to speak. It is rare I find myself so incapable of speaking. Certainly rare after I decided diagnosis or no, I had no time for this "being sick." But I did share this. 

I had the support of those who were my voice when I did not have one. 

I had many people... all over the WORLD really, who were rooting for me, providing me with support and strength. Combined our determination could not be overwhelmed by something as simple as an accident.  

Mission accomplished y'all. 

Never tell me the odds.