Everything you lose is a step you take

“Time won’t fly, it’s like I’m paralyzed by it
I’d like to be my old self again
But I’m still trying to find it” ¹

For the last two years, I’ve lived inside those lyrics from Red‘s Track Five. Like Taylor, I’ve felt paralysed, constantly looking back, trying to find the person I used to be. But as the second anniversary of the accident arrived, I realised I had to stop searching for my ‘old self’ and find a way to say goodbye to her.

To move forward, I decided to write a letter to the person I used to be. It went like this:

Dear ‘Old’ Me,

Marking the second anniversary of the accident has forced me to look back at you – the person I used to be.

I see it clearly now. You loved your teaching career but were constantly exhausted by its relentless demands and continuously felt undervalued by your employer.

You were a mum walking a tightrope, desperately trying to balance a career with being present for your children, yet always feeling like you were failing at both.

On your way home from work, music was nothing more than background noise. Your mind was always too crowded to notice the songs, the landscape, or the sunset. Instead, you were always a step ahead, rushing through the next morning’s lesson plans, mentally checking the fridge to see if you could scrape together dinner for your family or trying to squeeze in a run to feel like you had a moment to yourself.

You spent your life counting down the days until the weekend, half-term, or the school holidays, and were constantly waiting for those breaks to finally breathe. But by wishing the weeks away and moving so fast, you forgot to actually enjoy the life you were working so hard to build.

The accident took so much from you, but it forced you to stop that way of living. It gave me a gift you never had, but you always wished for: time.

For two years, I haven’t had to set an alarm clock. I no longer rush breakfast with the kids or hurry away from them to get to work. Instead, I’ve been given the time to watch them grow. I was there for the milestones your old teaching job would have forced you to miss. I’ve finally had the chance to appreciate the house we built and the simple joy of running in the daylight, a luxury that was impossible when your working hours used to swallow every bit of daylight in the winter.

The gift of time has enabled me to start projects that once felt impossible for you because you were always too busy. I learned to bake sourdough, launched this blog, and hand-wrote every Taylor Swift lyric to help retrain my brain to spell when I was struggling most.

invisible string perfectly captures my journey over the last few years.

“time, wondrous time
gave me the blues and then purple pink skies” ²

invisible string, folklore

For years, I lived in ‘the blues’ of the accident’s aftermath, especially as I grieved the life you led. But this ‘wondrous time’ eventually revealed the ‘purple-pink skies’ of my life today, one in which I am finally grounded and present.

Now, when I run, I actually feel the warmth of the sun and the power of the rain. When the kids are at home, I am fully there for them; instead of rushing through dinner and bedtime so I can sneak out for a run, I just enjoy being with them. It’s still a learning curve, but I’m choosing to look past the noise of my headaches and dizziness to focus on their laughter and their love.

The accident broke the “normal” cycle that blinded you. It gave me clarity and control. This is ironic because so much is currently out of my hands. However, I can now choose a future and a career that actually cares about my well-being rather than return to a school that didn’t. You knew the school undervalued you and you felt overworked, but you didn’t have the strength to make that break. Now, I do.

The last two years have also taught me that I can handle a lot. I know you were resilient, but I have become even tougher. Despite the unexpected twists and turns that have impacted our family, I am still here fighting. Taylor’s words now feel like they were written for me.

“I’m a real tough kid, I can handle my shit” ³

I Can Do It With A Broken Heart, TTPD

I’ve finally learned the lesson you never quite did: to never take my health for granted. You always chose work over recovery, even after your accident, but I now see that health is the foundation of everything. This perspective has given me a profound appreciation for life, simply because I know how fragile it really is.

I could easily stay trapped in the pain, the blur, and the trauma of that day, forever searching for the person you were. I am eternally grateful to you for your teaching career and everything you learned through it. That strength is the reason I’ve been able to cope with such a life-changing event without losing it.

So instead of looking back, I am choosing to turn this crisis into a new beginning. As Taylor sings in You’re On Your Own, Kid, every loss was a step toward who I am now. I’m finally learning to live as the person I’m becoming because I’ve‘got no reason to be afraid.’

“’Cause there were pages turned with the bridges burned
Everything you lose is a step you take
So, make the friendship bracelets, take the moment and taste it
You’ve got no reason to be afraid.” ⁴

You’re On Your Own, Kid, Midnights

With love and compassion,

The New Me

The Concussion Girl