Taylor Rose
Mrs. Rogers
Honors English III
8 February 2011
The Giving Tree
The Pain alone was enough to devastate each day. Every plan that I made, ruined; every memory to be had, gone. It was only when I was at the nadir of my struggle, the point where I was forced accept my incompetence, that I experienced true appreciation, even when pessimism threatened to ravage anything comforting left. This is not the histrionics of an over-exaggerative teenage girl; this is the obstacle that was thrust upon my summer, and the unexpected outcome.
She was the Cyclops. The Goliath to my David. And frankly, she won. The towering goalie managed to end my summer and send me reeling into the worst pain I’ve ever experienced in one fell swoop. While I may be bitter, snapping a limb off is something to remember. The noise alone resonated in my head, in my dreams, and later in the stories of teammates and their families, who heard it from the sidelines.
The Pain had a mind of its own. From the crack to the crash, falling, falling, and a moment of darkness, It started Its work. Pushed from my mangled body came a cry, a wail, which I was embarrassed to realize was my own. The Pain tugged at my stomach, twinged through my fingertips, tore through my bones, and twisted my expression as one bestial cry after the next forced its way out. I was dying.
After three days in the hospital, and a hip-high plaster prison as a souvenir, I returned home only to face the pinnacle of my obstacles that summer—denial and later, depression. After days of reassuring myself that the independent, sixteen-year-old summer I planned for would somehow work out, I accepted that it would be exactly the opposite: I was only what others would do for me. Completely dependent on those around me. Immobile, decaying, atrophied, pathetic.
Because my cast weighed more than I could lift, each time I had to use the restroom, my mom would crawl on the floor, raising it for me as I fought, fretted, fumbled with the crutches. Looking down, Understanding finally battled through my stubborn, negative ethos and revealed to me just how pathetic I would be without her. Relying on her humbled me in a way that pushed me to be aware, challenged me to emerge from my self-pity, and dared me to be appreciative in a frustrating and dark time.
While I worked slowly to resume and maintain some type of daily routine, the epiphany that once enlightened me slowly faded into mundane day-to-day life. Though I needed the normalcy, I realize that I failed to actually put my lesson to use. Now, reflecting on my summer, I understand that true appreciation must take form and continue to reignite.
It caused me to think. Of someone other than myself. To thank those who guide me in a time when I am unable, unfit, or too blind to guide myself. It forced me to broaden my mindset, develop my relationships, and most importantly, to improve how I treat others. I learned that a small lesson garnered through struggle is the rudiment, the foundation, for developing characteristics that then feed off one another to develop character. While the summer passed and the bones mended, it continues to enhance my way of living.