… on the wall. How lucky I am to have people who support me through it all.
It seems appropriate that I would spend my birthday at Mirror Lake considering that birthdays are a time of deep reflection for me. This year more than most.
How could it not be when this time last year I was gathering the courage to hold accountable the man who’d raped me?
In the end, the law did not hold him accountable. The individual himself did not- does not- take accountability for his actions. But make no mistake, unwillingness to accept responsibility does not remove responsibility.
This “man” is a coward. And when I’m not feeling rage towards his heartless actions and the actions of selfish people like him, I feel pity… because cowardice is worse than fear.
All the reasons I did not immediately come forward were based in fear. But fear is a far different emotion- one that stems from real & potential danger. Cowardice stems from real & potential consequences.
What’s more, fear is extinguished by the courage to stand up for oneself. But it’s a far more difficult task to gather the kind of courage it takes to stamp out cowardice. That requires standing up and owning up to a mistake…. but how can you stand if you don’t have a backbone?
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So there I was at Mirror Lake… thinking back on all of these things. Turns out, my time there would be further reflective of my experiences this past year.
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I’d never seen Mirror Lake during a snowy reign; only after the succession of heir apparent summer. Each step along the snowy banks provided a different, but equally beautiful view. I felt as high as Hayden Peak.
…. Until we left. Or, rather, tried to leave.
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A snowdrift was blocking the exit road. I thought I could clear it, but instead, I got my CR-V perfectly high-centered. I got out and began trying to swipe the snow out from under the car. I was on all fours- in shorts and flip flops- getting scraped and scratched by the glassy snow.
After a few minutes, a man and two women came walking up to see if I was okay and if I needed help. We tried pushing the car. Nothing. We tried pushing snow out from under the car using my kayak paddles. Still nothing. The man was on his belly just as I was, doing his best to reach the middle section of snow under the car. He was getting cold and wet for my sake. I felt so incredibly grateful for his willingness to get down there with me and try to help.
After thirty minutes of effort, I knew I had better try and catch the owners of the lone truck present at the lake.
I hurried across the marsh separating us and up and climbed up the rock barrier to the parking lot. A woman was standing by the truck. She looked at me, then calmly let me know that I was bleeding. Sure enough, my legs were streaked in blood from kneeling and pressing against the snow. I pointed to our car, explained how we were struck, and asked if they had any chains or tow ropes. She called her husband over, and he immediately obliged. He pulled his truck up, hooked the rope to my car, and within seconds, he had pulled us free.
Tears of gratitude welled up in my eyes– for him, but also for the initial group who had helped and who I only now realized had been patiently watching from their car, waiting to make sure we made it out okay.
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On the drive home, I thought about how, two years ago, I had been moving right along… breathing in each beautiful life moment… when all of a sudden, I was thrown into a standstill– literally stuck, unable to clear the obstacle in my path.
I tried to deal with it all by myself, doing my best to swipe the trauma from my memory. But the trauma was too deep, and I was spinning. Observant friends asked if I was okay… and when I shared what had happened, they immediately knelt in the trenches beside me. They did everything in their power to assist me.
And I do mean everything. There will never be a day when I don’t weep openly at the love and support I have been offered by the incredible people in my life. These were people busy enjoying their own lives, taking in the scenery of their own experiences… and still, they took frequent pauses to check in on me. There were moments when there was nothing they could do, but they waited with me. They never abandoned me. They sat with me & made sure I was okay. They are my heroes.
And then there was my therapist who brought my attention to wounds I could not see… and who had all the right equipment and tools to pull me out of that snowdrift. Mind you, the snowdrift was still there when I left. It didn’t just melt away. But after pulling me back to safety, my therapist helped me navigate a new path of healing. I haven’t forgotten the overwhelming emotions of panic, fear, and anxiety… but the positive emotions stand out more: gratitude, courage, hope. It’s easy with the universe offering frequent reminders.
… Like the truck we encountered on our way home that evening (after Mirror Lake, we went on to spend the day at Deer Creek Reservoir).
As soon as I saw the red truck in my rear-view, I knew. I knew it was the kind husband and wife who had helped us hours before, miles and miles away. And they continued on the same route until we were about a mile from home.
With my therapist, it is the same. Miles and months may pass in between, and I’m the one doing the driving… but he stays the course with me.
All the supportive people in my life do. And I’m grateful for them all.