The accident didn't just take my health — it took who I thought I was
I've been sitting on this for a while because I wasn't sure how to put it into words, and honestly I'm still not sure I can.
Before everything happened, I had this really clear sense of self. I was about two years into a career I'd worked really hard to build — community outreach stuff, coordinating programs for at-risk youth in my city. I was the person people called when they needed something done. I volunteered on weekends. I ran a half marathon the spring before the crash. I felt genuinely useful in the world.
Then a driver ran a red light and here I am.
The physical stuff is ongoing — I won't get into all of it — but the part nobody warned me about is what happens to your identity when you can't do the things that made you you. I had to step away from work because of cognitive stuff. Fatigue hits me in waves I can't predict. I tried going back twice and had to stop both times.
People in my life keep asking "so what's the plan?" like I'm just on an extended vacation. My old coworkers send me job postings. My mom keeps telling me I'll "bounce back." And maybe I will, I don't know.
But right now I'm grieving a version of myself that might be gone, and I don't really know who's supposed to replace her.
Does anyone else feel this? Like the accident stole something you can't put in a medical record or an insurance claim?
I'm 27 and I feel like I'm starting completely over. It's exhausting in a way that sleep doesn't fix.