Reflections on my Accident

I vividly remember the day before the accident. I was living in the Bay Area at the time, commuting from a condo near the Giants stadium out to the East Bay where I worked as an Account Manager for a software company. I had crossed the Bay Bridge and was heading towards Oakland when I heard a small voice in my head warning me that I shouldn’t go skiing this weekend. I had experienced this voice before, warning me that I seemed to be sliding off the beam of a balanced life, addicted to checking out of reality with excitement and adventure. 

Deep down I sensed that I hid all my fears of true intimacy behind my spontaneous, adventurous self. I identified myself as a strong independent woman who went on solo weekend trips and vacations to famous ski resorts. I prided myself on befriending older couples on ski lifts and staying in their lovely guest room with a luxurious attached bath two weeks later. I thrived on adrenaline, excitement and impulsivity and I loved every second of it. That is until I saw my credit card balance and realized how expensive my adventuring had become, or would cry with exhaustion trying to focus at work on Mondays.

Occasionally I found myself missing how safe I felt when I was living a more grounded life. I longed for the comfort of knowing I had food in the fridge after my long commute home during the weekdays. I was tired of subsisting on boiled eggs, Cliff bars and Red Bull from the nearby gas station, as I jumped from activity to activity. Sometimes I felt pangs of sadness, hit by memories of bailing on friends’ bridal showers or Christmases with my family so I could spend time alone on the mountain. 

As these uncomfortable thoughts surfaced, I quickly pushed them down into the deepest recesses of my mind and began focusing on the excitement and adventure ahead! I imagined myself flying down that beautiful snowy mountain, the crisp air whipping across my face with the whiff of pine trees as I zipped by. On this particular weekend in early April 2014 my decision had already been made. I would leave for the mountain the next morning at 5am and be back in San Francisco by 9pm on Sunday. 

One of the most painful experiences I've had in this lifetime has been sitting with profound regret.

On Saturday April 5, 2014 I decided to spend the day skiing in my favorite place, on the backside of Kirkwood Mountain. It was a cloudy day with lower than normal visibility, but I knew the mountain relatively well, having skied it multiple years on end. One of the most painful experiences I've had in this lifetime has been sitting with profound regret. Sometimes people have the luxury of being angry at someone else or circumstances outside of their control. In my case I was the one responsible for my accident. All I had to blame was me. Me taking risks. Me seeking adrenaline. Me wanting to do something dangerous again. 

I started off by accidentally skiing off of a mountain ledge that I didn’t see until it was a few feet in front of me, essentially jumping off a bit of a cliff. It totally caught me off guard and shockingly, I landed it beautifully - effortlessly skiing down the rest of the hill. The exhilaration was palpable in my chest and every part of my body tingled with excitement. I couldn’t believe I had done it! I jumped off a small cliff and landed it! This was a huge accomplishment  for someone who had picked up skiing late in life, just a few years prior. I felt like a total badass as the adrenaline coursed through my body.

There was no question in my mind that I would do it again. I noticed some fear creeping up as I rode up the chairlift, but I quickly replaced it with images of flying through the air, the wind whipping through my frozen hair and my pink nose and cheeks. The freedom I would feel. Little did I know, this would be my last few moments of bliss and freedom from crippling pain and profound suffering that would last many years to come.

Little did I know, this would be my last few moments of bliss and freedom from crippling pain and profound suffering that would last many years to come.

As I picked up speed on my skis heading towards that same mountain ledge, this time I felt scared. I suppose some part of me knew what was coming or perhaps the earlier confidence and assuredness were the reason why I successfully landed the first jump. I will never know. I do know I was scared and I hesitated. Suddenly my skis got stuck on something right before the edge of the ledge and I was catapulted headfirst towards the ground. I fell several feet until the top of my head hit the ground in full force, and my body bounced up from the impact of the fall.

During a normal year where the mountain was covered by giant clouds of soft powdery snow, this same fall could have been a minor nuisance rather than a life altering event. Unfortunately the state of California was 3 years into one of the worst droughts in its history so the snow was like concrete. Isn't that always how it goes with sporting accidents? If this condition or that circumstance had been slightly different, the tragedy wouldn't have occurred.

Later I learned from a concussion expert at UCSF that what matters in determining the extent of my head injury was the weight of my body, the speed at which it was going and the hard surface it inevitably reached. The combination of those circumstances resulted in a traumatic brain injury. Months into my recovery I remember complaining about the debilitating migraines, dizziness and nausea that were making me feel so sick, combined with excruciating nerve pain down both my arms that felt like they were on fire. I was reminded that if my body had fallen at a different angle or if I had not been wearing a helmet I could have easily broken my neck and become paralyzed. Knowledge and awareness of how much worse it could have been never seems to matter in the face of profound suffering.

Knowledge and awareness of how much worse it could have been never seems to matter in the face of profound suffering.

There have been many memoirs and blogs written about the gory details of recovery from a traumatic brain injury (TBI). I have read many of them, fascinated by what can go wrong when the brain is injured. However, after reading them I often felt empty and disconnected. I desperately wanted answers to how people came to accept the new person they were forced to become as a result of their accident. How did they surrender to this new life of significant limitations? How did they cope when they felt completely trapped in the prison of their own mind and couldn't escape with distractions of their choosing?

In my blog I hope to talk about the decade of recovery since my TBI that has required a complete transformation of my emotional and spiritual state. I hope to provide some thoughts and insight into some of the questions I've had and still have, many years down the line. I hope to explore intimate and vulnerable topics to shed light on how to get through difficult and painful mental states. I hope to share about how I have been repeatedly sucked into a giant hole of bleak darkness and come out the other side a stronger and more resilient woman. I hope to detail the magical transformation that it seems for the stubborn human ego, only a terrible tragedy can bring.