You can’t change what something is without changing what it was. This is a concept that is constantly playing through my mind on repeat. For the past few years, I have been greatly affected, almost to the point of obsessed with the thought that my every action, every word, and every encounter may inevitably be a changing point in the course of my life. From the simplest accidents like forgetting my keys or deciding to make coffee before I leave for the day, to bigger decisions such as what classes to take or where to travel, I seem to be constantly looking for the reasons of why my life takes me on the paths that it does. I suppose this could be a way of arguing with the notion of a predestined existence. Because of this “obsession”, I sometimes feel as though I am being to overly analytical of what should essentially be routine, or thoughtless acts.
My infatuation with this topic became the most prevalent after a meaningless accident changed the entire course my young life. I was a very reckless teenager and for years lived with the assumption that I was invincible. I went from being a bright, creative, very artistic girl to a selfish troublemaker, consumed with desire to destruct. I got into trouble on a daily basis, and my friends were not what you would consider well-rounded, or good influences, to say the least. I was headed down a pretty dark road and many of my loved ones had, for the most part, given up on me. Nothing outside of my toxic, self-destructive lifestyle existed, and even the creative, artistic side of me was slowly beginning to disappear.
Then one summer, my entire world flipped upside down in a matter of seconds. My parents were having a Fourth of July party at their lake house and had a giant waterslide built for the festivities. In my intoxicated stupor, I went down the slide head first, plunging into a shallow lake and broke my neck, leaving me completely paralyzed from the shoulders down. I was immediately life flighted to the nearest city, but there was so much damage to my spine and vertebrae that the doctors were unsure if there was anything they could do to save me. After an eleven-hour surgery, my prognosis was very grim, if I made it through the night, I was given about a 10% chance of ever walking, or moving again. For the first two months, there were little signs of hope. I just laid there in my motionless body, contemplating my life’s choices and begging for a second chance. I found myself not missing the parties or the drugs or even my friends, but more I just missed the freedom to express myself, and the ability to create. I came to the conclusion that if this wouldn’t have happened I would have been an artist, but it seemed merely a dream at that point. Then miraculously one day, the nerves in my legs began to stir, and like wildfire, moved up my body to my arms, and eventually my hands. For the next six months, I would spend my days in a rehabilitation center learning everything from scratch. I had to teach my muscles how to support my body, my hands how to hold objects, and my legs how to walk. It was the most physical work I had ever put myself through.
Because of my experience being paralyzed I began to live my life very differently. My priorities changed, I was able to recognize what was deemed important and what would inevitably lead me back to my destructive tendencies. I strongly believe that if I wouldn’t have been faced with the possibility of losing my independence and ability to create, I may have slowly lost it anyway, and at my own will.
This was when I began to question my everyday activities. The possibility of something so small and thoughtless changing the course of my life or someone else’s horrifies me, excites me, and more than anything torments me. I find it hard to make decisions and constantly find myself reflecting and reacting on “what if” situations. I have also become exceedingly influenced with the ideas and research based in and around the chaos theory or “butterfly effect”. I have even used this research to try to understand the cause and affect of my ancestors’ decisions that would bring me into existence in the first place, which has been a major stepping-stone towards some of my most successful artistic endeavors.
I think that the hardships that I have endured in my life have come full circle, and this pattern never ends. If I had never been a reckless teenager, I wouldn’t have thought it a good idea to plunge head first down a waterslide. If I wouldn’t have had six months to contemplate my life, I may not have discovered the importance of living a creative life. Now, my work is prominently based around the epiphanies I came to while my life was put on hold. I am absolutely positive that this pattern will continue throughout my life as well, as long as I don’t drive myself to insanity in the midst of it.
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