The day I knew...

I continued to stare into the mirror. Then I looked down to those two legs, that, it seemed, once upon a time that they worked. I recognized that I had trouble with my right hand. I looked into the mirror again, and noticed that it was my right eye that didnt close. It was the right side of my mouth that didnt work. Did I have a stroke? I asked myself. Everything was affected on the right side. But, I couldnt understand any of it. Maybe I'd finally smoked too much and caused this? Maybe, I drank myself into this. I did something to cause this, I thought to myself.
Half the day, I felt as if I were in a daze. I went to speech therapy and physical therapy, without many words for anyone. When I went back to my room to rest, I went into the bathroom again. I was aware now that something was wrong. Something was really wrong. But what was it? Why was I here? Why was I in this hospital? I asked myself. Why could I not eat food? Why could I not walk? Why could I not handle a toothbrush? Why was I so stinking confused about everything? I started to cry. Alone in the room, I sat in the wheelchair and bawled.
After a few minutes, my mom came to visit for the day. I came out of the bathroom and stared at my mom. I looked at her blankly as she asked me how my day had been going. After a moment, she changed expressions on her face, from typical to concerned.
"Whats the matter baby?" she asked me. I just stared into space, my head filled with a hundred questions. But those questions, I couldnt form into words. I just stared blankly.
"Elicia?" Mom said. "Whats wrong? Why do you look so sad?"
"I cant sleep" I started to say fighting back tears. "All I can do is think. Why am I here? Why can I not walk? Why can I not brush my teeth right?" The tears started to flow. "Mom. Did I have a stroke? What did I do to myself that got me here? I don't understand."
My mom hugged me ever so tightly, now crying herself. She was finally noticing things, she must of thought. Her tears from her own pain throughout this whole time must of been flowing out now.
"I'm going to get one of the soial workers." She said with tissues in her hand. "When I get back, we'll sit you down and explain this all." She hugged me again, and left the room.
I sat there fightened. Of all of the things I could've have done to harm myself, had it all led to this? Was this the point, where God was punishing me? Was this a wake up call? I was still so lost, so confused. All I could think of, was, what had I done to cause this? Never once had I suspected ANYONE else doing this. Every other time, I blamed myself for those bad things. I mean, come on, every other time I CAUSED those bad things.
While I waited for my mom to come back, I thought back to the stupid things I'd done with my life. The car accidents that could've killed me. The suicidal attempts, the carelessness of my own actions. The drinking, DAILY, the smoking, EXCESSIVELY...not once had I given thought to the abuse my ex-boyfriend had done. All my own fingers pointed at myself.
My mom returned a few minutes later, this time with a woman from social services. They led me to a smaller, family meeting-type room, where they could sit and answer any questions I was sure to have. The lady, seemed to be a compassionate, kind woman with a gentle look upon her face. They sat directly across from me, this time with tissues balled up in her hand. For the first time, I saw the pain in my mom's eyes. I saw the stress weighing down on her. I saw the weakness she showed.
"So what did I do this time?" I asked them. Always, I was to take the first blame when things went wrong in my life. I guess it was habit. Besides, 9 times out of 10, it was me.
"Elicia" the social worker started to speak first. "You had an accident june 8th. You fell off a balcony while drinking and took a nasty fall." Mom was in tears by then. The reality of hearing it from another person's mouth was a reality check for her also. She went to hand me the box of tissues, which I kindly denied. There was no room for crying. I wanted answers, my first sign of real determination in months, maybe years.
"I fell." I said out loud, more thinking than saying. So there was an answer. I was drinking and this happened. In a way, I felt I was right. My drinking had finally caught up with me. God was punishing me. To me, things were finally making sense. All my years of hiding the alcohol, in drinks to school, in various containers, coming home drunk almost nightly...God was punishing me.
"Where is Robert?" I asked my mom.
"He is staying with your brother and Brandy for the time being." mom answered.
"Does he know what happened?"
"In a way, but he's being protected from alot of it." still wiping tears from her face. I noticed how much older my mom looked than I remembered last. Your drinking caused this on your mother, I thought to myself. Shame on you Elicia. Look what you did. Your mother, who would do anything to protect you, you hurt her beyond this time.
"Well, can I see him?" I asked. But, what would I say to that little boy that I loved so much. How would I explain to a 6-yr old that I was sorry? What was I sorry for? Alot, I answered my own question. Sorry for drinking, sorry for smoking around him, sorry for the nasty language, sorry he witnessed the abuse.
The more I looked at the situation, the more I beat myself up over it. Robert should have never seen those things. Or had gone through that mess. He should've never lived there. Wait, should I have never lived there?

"Of course you can see your son Elicia" my mom answered back. "Your brother has been keeping him busy this summer, but they've all been wanting to come see you. And Robert's been asking about you alot."

I'm not sure why my mom had a social worker come with her talk with me. Perhaps for her own support. Perhaps to keep me calm? Perhaps to answer any questions I might've had?

I didnt want to go to occupational therapy. Too much on my mind now.

More for another day....