One Year Ago...

I have watched the days crawl closer to the 30^th of December and I haven’t known how to feel. This last year has been so overwhelmingly full of every kind of feeling, it’s impossible to sum up everything that has happened in one measly blog post, or journal entry. I’m quite certain that there are no words to represent what I have experienced over the last year.

One year ago today, from this moment, I was in perfect health. I was mobile, I was strong, and everyday tasks weren’t even a thought. I remember going into the gym and seeing a man walking who obviously had a spinal cord injury and thinking how grateful I was for what I had. I thanked God very frequently for my physical strength and blessings. It was a blessing I didn’t believe I could live happily without. I remember lying in bed and realizing that I was perfectly comfortable and wondering what it would be like to have chronic pain as some people I knew had. Little did I know that I was moments away from gaining all the problems I had thanked God I didn’t have, and losing all that I had so often thanked him for.

I can’t believe that it’s been a full year. It feels like only a few months have passed… if the date didn’t say Dec 30, 2014, I would never believe that it has already been this long. At 3:09 PM one year from tomorrow I would not walk again. I wouldn’t ever breathe or play the flute the same way. What I enjoyed so dearly for 23 years would be suddenly taken from me in the blink of an eye.

This is an anniversary, and while it was a truly terrible event for me and my family, it causes me to reflect on everything that has happened as a result. The initial flood of thoughts are all negative and painful, but I also realize that I’ve learned life lessons that are meaningful to me.

(Some of) What I Have Learned From Being Paralyzed

• Happiness is a complex thing. There are things that make us happy that we don’t realize make us happy. I didn’t know how happy it made me to be in shorts in the summer and walk around in the grass. I didn’t know how happy simple things made me.

• I have learned that grief is a train. There is nothing, I mean nothing, that can stop the train of grief. You are a passenger, and regardless of your intellect, understanding of grief’s patterns, mental capabilities or anything else, there is little that can alter the course that a grieving individual will take. I have learned that I have to ride the wave and try and wait it out. I can’t problem-solve my self through this one. It takes patience and everyone grieves differently, each individual’s grief train as uncontrollable as the next.

• True human value is found in character. Nothing else, not prestige, power, good looks, wealth, or even education determine the value a person has. We are defined by the characteristics we posses. Many things can be stripped from a person in the blink of an eye, but no one can take away your goodness, your benevolence, your kindness, your determination to succeed. Conversely, no one can strip you of your arrogance, your hatred, your selfishness, your laziness. Under the façade that we all put up is the core of a human being. It’s worth ensuring that that core is something you like, because one day you might not have whatever is covering for what lies at the center of who you are.

• People are generous. I have been astounded, simply astounded by the generosity that others have demonstrated to my family and me. Whether it has been through financial donation or sacrifice of time, people have been there to help me through every step of this journey to ensure my success. Financially speaking, I can’t describe the expenses that follow someone with an SCI for the rest of their life. That being said, I have been beyond grateful for the generosity of others that have helped me to get back on my feet. Pun intended. 

• There are many who suffer. Though their losses may be invisible to the eye, many people around us experience legitimate losses all the time. I have learned that there are few of us, if any, who have a life that goes as planned.

• Faith is a choice. Over the last year, my faith in God has been tested to its core in a way that has made me nervous. This has given me insight and empathy towards those to leave their faith and why. I get why they leave. I have learned that the nature of faith requires an element of doubt, and that to doubt is okay. To say, “I don’t know” is also okay. 

• People change the world with their hearts. Although being paralyzed presents to me an unbelievable amount of loss, one thing it does not change is my ability to influence the lives of others. I desperately long to feel the ground under my feet again, but Carson will go on all the same in his plans to change the world around him. Whether that happens on his own two feet or on four wheels doesn’t make a difference. 

• Ups and downs are to be expected. If I am up I can absolutely count on having a hellish day some time soon. If I am having a hellish day, I can count of coming out of it and feeling like I can live on.

• Family relationships are complex and require great effort. I have never had the intensity of conflict between my family members and me like I have had this year. I have also never felt greater love for them and from them. I have learned that conflict and communication are essential for resolution. These conflicts end in greater understanding and appreciation, though they are uncomfortable at the time. I have seen that our love and dedication to each other always easily outweighs any differences we might have. Love always wins at my house.

• Loss usually comes not with a ripple effect, but a tidal wave effect. Family members and friends also suffer great loss with the individual directly affected. When we love others and their happiness is connected to our own, their suffering is also connected to ours. 

• I cannot will myself through everything. There are some things I simply can’t do. I have felt with nearly everything else I have done in life that I could achieve it if I put my mind to it, but not this one. I cannot will my spinal cord to be healed. I cannot will my legs to move. This is not only a physical defeat, but an emotional one as well. I have had to accept that I cannot will myself through or past the grief I will experience, and that’s okay… 

• Small acts of kindness make a tremendous difference, even something like a smile. I was at Sports Authority before Christmas doing some shopping and I was having a rough time. I wasn’t really in line, but a woman with a kind, big smile insisted that I get in line in front of her. The feeling of kindness surrounding her was so genuine that it took me off guard. It did something to me inside. I recognized the change of mood that took place within me was thanks to that woman. Other thoughtful notes, gifts, and messages of encouragement have made a horrible day a bearable one.

• I can’t live without the power of music in my life. There is a power in music that has healed me many times. It lifts me, elevates me and changes me in a way that nothing else can.

• Social media has an incredible potential for good. I thought about this the other day when I made a simple post about making my bed. I truly wasn’t fishing for support by making the post, but received an unexpected amount of encouragement that made me feel accomplished. I thanked God for the blessing of social media because of the support I’ve received through it. 

• If you have love, if you have family, if you have friends… you have what matters most. The first moments I realized I broke my neck were scary ones. I felt initial worry about all that I would be unable to do. For some reason, right after that I suddenly thought about all the people in my life that I loved, and believed that I would be okay if I had love. I’ve always believed in the power of love, and though it’s cliché, I have always truly, deeply believed that love saves. In the past, I have thought myself foolish for believing in such a way, but that belief has been confirmed over the last year as I have watched what it can do for a person. There is no greater attribute that will benefit mankind than that of true, selfless love. I don’t just believe that anymore. I know that. I wasn’t a fool for feeling that during those first moments of paralysis. I was right to feel it. 

This list is a miniscule representation of what I have learned and experienced. There are other good things I have learned, and other not-so-pleasant things. If I were to choose one word to describe this year, I would choose “hellish”, but closely following that would come the word “educational”. As I attempt to look back on the year to see what I’ve come through, it’s hard to do because I still feel like I’m in the depths of it. It doesn’t feel like I’ve come anywhere, or achieved anything. Yes, I am better at transfers, but I don’t feel better. I would be a fraud if I tried to end this post with a nice coat of sugar, so I won’t. I’m nervous about the upcoming year, though I hope it yields better, happier things than the last.

I’m ending this post in a way that makes me a bit uncomfortable for several reasons, but here I go. A few weeks ago I realized something. I realized that any significant future recovery probably wouldn’t be a natural course that my body would take. It would take a miracle at this point, either a medical miracle from future advancements and discoveries, or a miracle from God. While I don’t necessarily wait for either of these things to happen, I believe that both are possible. While I was in the hospital, I received a priesthood blessing from an apostle of God, who said that even a full recovery was possible. This has been the cause of much thinking and pondering. While I have learned that I need to accept the here and now of my recovery, I have also thought about miracles and the power of faith. Though my faith has wavered, I choose to maintain it and seek to strengthen it.

The good friend that started this blog chose “prayforcarsontueller” as the domain… I believe that I have been the benefactor of those many prayers, and believe from my own experiences that God hears and answers them. I thank those of you who continue to pray for me and now I ask more. I ask all those who exercise faith in God to continue to pray for me and for a full recovery. On days when I feel I cannot go on, knowing that people are still praying for me has strengthened me. I have hesitated at making this request because it appears to be the height of denial of my injury. Perhaps it is, but this is what I believe will be a strength to me this upcoming year, even as I come to accept the natural timing of everything.

This moment occurred last Christmas. This picture would have more
significance that I knew at the time

So, here’s to another year and probably another very difficult one. I hope to be more resilient to the difficult changes that life may present me, but I do find confidence in one great truth. I know that regardless of what I may experience, if I have love, if I have my friends, and if I have my family, I can make it through alright.