The principle of resilience has long defined how I live. On the day of my best friend’s abusive father’s birthday, I flipped and rolled a two-door car when I was going over 70 mph. This is all that is known about the logistics of the accident. The summer before, I remember we made a game of reaching 100 miles per hour. We did this on Muskego’s long, empty roads. I have no recollection of the accident, or any of the seven weeks afterwards – I was comatose. When I woke up, I had to relearn how to do everything.
I approached my recovery with a vengeance. When I first became sentient, I could neither walk nor talk. The prospect of the alternative – remaining as I was, as I found myself for my entire life – frightened me into recovering as hard as I could as fast as I could.
When I was discharged from the hospital 120 days after my best friend’s abusive dad’s birthday, hospital staff gave me an Iron Man medal. I don’t know where they got it. It was from five years prior, so it tracks that it was someone’s old one. Still, I should have never been prouder in my life.
The opposite was true. I felt nothing. I smiled and thanked them, of course, but on the inside, I was numb. It took me years to feel proud of what I’d done. Still, I was a stronger person after this experience.
What principles define how you live? Comment to let me know!
Things We Forget 
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