Day Nine: Do You Need Any Help?

"Sweetie, life is too short to take the elevator." 

- Dad

It's my second last day as a victim, and even though I did learn one heck of a lot through this intervention, I can't wait for it to be over. I can't wait to be able to run, and skip, and hop , and jump. I can't wait to be able to climb the stairs and moan about how unfit I am when I reach the top. I can't wait to be able to drive myself around again, wake up before everyone else and go on adventures to the beach by myself. I can't wait to, at 11'o clock at night, after finishing a tough essay, climb in my car and go buy myself an ice-cream, or chicken nuggets. I can't wait to be free, and with it, have my independence back.

I knew being injured would have some sort of effect on my psyche, and it did. However, I wasn't prepared to lose my independence. Throughout this intervention, the thing that got to me the most was having to rely on other people to drive me around, and just for help with every day tasks in general. I don't think I ever fully realised that, contrary to the belief that "No man is an island," I sure do act as if I am one. And as satisfying as it is not needing anyone, it's actually quite lonely. Yes, I love being able to come and go as I please, but the fact that no one would probably notice if I went missing isn't the greatest thought to have. 

So maybe asking others for help isn't as bad as I've always thought it was. Maybe I should just dry-swallow that bitter pill of pride and ask for a hand every now and then. After all, there isn't anything wrong with admitting that you can't do it all alone.

Snapchat is wonderful. You can take selfies and not be judged.