Seventh Inning Stretch

“It’s like the seventh inning stretch, Mom,” Damon said to me this morning, this seventh year anniversary mark of his accident.

Perfect, I thought. I am feeling it. That stretch. Emotionally. Physically. Mentally.

Stand up. Regroup. Reassess. Readjust. Take it all in. Stretch.

Seven years in and Damon is well. He’s healthy. He’s happy. But, most importantly, he’s comfortable in his new skin. He accepts where he is now. He believes in where he’s going. He’s strong. He’s smart. He has this uncanny ability to draw others in. To make them smile. To make them laugh. To make them feel so special, they come back for more. For more of whatever it is he has that makes them feel so good.

Seven years in and I have finally found my peace. Regrets have turned into anticipation. Sadness has changed to joy. My blessings of today have begun to surpass the hell of yesterday. What is has finally overtaken what could have been. I’m ok now. I’m really ok.

This past year I was on a mission to re-find me. Or perhaps re-invent me. And I have. A me I like a lot better than the me 7 years ago. A me who has learned so many things about life and love; hope and faith; beauty and ugliness; honesty; compassion…the real kind not just the lip service kind; weakness; strength; what’s authentic and what’s a facade; what matters and who doesn’t; and how to be real to others and true to myself.

In this past year I’ve shed people and places and their truths and their lies. I’ve shed walls that imprisoned me and a past that controlled me. Only when I let go of the monsters inside of me did I find the beauty outside of me. The glow to finally eliminate much of the darkness.

In this seventh inning stretch I reach high for the future I’ve always wanted and thought for most of these past seven years I was no longer capable of having. A future now in sight. I reach for my childhood dreams to become reality…. fairy tales and white horses, a real life love story, and a happily ever after, despite what’s happened….or maybe, in some twisted fucked up way, because of what’s happened.

I try to wrap my mind around the future of this boy who laughs, who loves purely and completely, who feels only happiness and nothing else. A gift so graciously bestowed upon him, to never feel sadness or anger or depression or frustration. Debilitating loss after devastating loss after shocking loss after unfair loss, and the closest he has ever come to showing a different emotion is to say, “That’s sad, Mom. If I could feel sadness, I definitely would be sad right now.”

Of course our story hasn’t ended. We are only stretching. We are only kneading muscles and relieving aches. We have innings to go. Love to give. Chapters to write. But what a difference now to look at our life as though we’re winning and not playing just to catch up. We’re confident. We’re thankful. Our energy has changed. And we’re up to bat.

Thank you for supporting us through these seven years. We love you all so much.

Author: kmpyros

I am the mother of a brain-injured young man who, before his accident, was strong and able and kind and funny; who, after his accident, is stronger and funnier and kinder but not at all that able. My writings mostly revolve around him. I am the mother of two beautiful young women who, before their brother’s accident, were strong and able and kind and happy and carefree and innocent; who, after their brother’s accident, are stronger and more able and kinder, but no longer completely happy or carefree and have lost just about all of their innocence. My writings also mostly revolve around them. I am the mother of 2 Bernese Mountain Dogs and a rescued kitten. None of them existed before my son’s accident. Some of my stories revolve around them. I write of the rippling effects traumatic brain injury has on family and friends. But I also write of miracles, of blind hope, of a mother’s gut instinct, of good vs evil, of laughter, of tears of both sorrow and joy, of love, and of finding humor and beauty everywhere. These are my stories. This is my life.

5 thoughts on “Seventh Inning Stretch”

  1. Karen, it’s beautiful to read and be in this transition that you so eloquently describe. I feel it. A glimpse of what it is to view our lives not for what we have lost, or what we believe was taken from us, but what is. The unexpected richness of what we truly have, this moment, & the curiosity of what tomorrow will bring. The steadfastness and courage of your every day existence, the unwavering love and faith, is humbling. May your wonderfully open mind and heart always be met with love, Joy, and the magic of our existence. ❤️❤️❤️

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Karen your ability to put feelings on paper is astounding…you draw us in, allow us feel what you feel and allow us to support and encourage you. I’m so happy you have found love you deserve it! Here’s to a future that looks so much brighter than it did seven years ago. And I wish you So Much Love My Friend.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Oh, Karen. This is so beautiful. Thank you for writing this. So happy to see you in such a wonderful new space. You deserve ALL the joy. As does Damon.

    We love you.

    Skylar Liberty Rose

    Website | Patreon

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Thank you Karen. And thank you Damon…always showing hope and strength. Having a sister and husband who both suffered a TBI I feel every word. Thanks for sharing. Thanks for being such an inspiration!
    Wishing you all the best always,
    Joyce

    Liked by 1 person

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