Moving Day

Scared to Live

Good people are hard to come across in this day and age. That's why the day I had to move away from all my friends, some family, and give away four of my cats and my dog was the worst day of my life. There was no turning back as we pulled out of the driveway on to the open road.

Dreading the thought of being alone in a new place with people I had never met before was like being pushed off a cliff without my harness, scared and vulnerable. Starting at a new place wasn't what frightened me, but the thought on lonliness and rejection consumed my body immensly. I had no friends, no direction but most importantly, I didn't have me. I wasn't myself at all: shy and shaky, afraid to show who I was." This isn't me",was the phrase I repeated in my mind while lieing in bed, wipping the salty tears from my eyes.

Imagine waking up to perfect covered trees drapped with pearly white snowflakes and stepping outside to have clean cold air running through your lungs. Now, think about waking up to sun blasted in your face in November and walking outside, slowley to stuffy smogey air push in through your nose to your now infused lungs. That's what it was like moving from New York to California in the middle of November.

The first week we moved in and got all situated my moms bestfriends daughter, who is about my age, took me bike riding with her. Sounds fun, Right? That's what I thought too. A great way to open up and show my wild side. Until I found out I would be two hours away from my mom. Desperate to step out of my shell... I went anyway. Friday rolls around and I'm packed and ready to go. The ride up there was exciting and I got to see so much. We got in to Apple Valley, in to the mountains and set up camp by sunset. We were then free to set up the rhino (two seater off road vehicle) and take it out on a little run before bed. My first time was amazing even though we went only 20 miles per hour and only for 15 minutes. We settled down for the night and woke up exceptionally early the next morning, it was a Saturday. Since the first ride was so calming and unassailable I told Ashlyn to go a little faster and to go over the bike dips... She did. I didn't mind the way the rhino wobbled going over the dips or leaned around turns, nor did I find holding on for dear life affictive but I made the mistake of getting to comfortable as we were now going 35 miles per hour over these dips and around the turn and back again and again to the same spot. We made one slight turn way to fast and hard and we starrted to tip but not in my favor. I saw it coming closer as we tipped in slow motion towards the brown, dirty, dusty and hard ground. My sweater was immovable on aloose screw as I pulled and pleaded for it to come off, it was to late.

Arm strangling under the 300 pound rhino didn't give me any immediate pain. I was only worried about the safety of Ashlyn at this point. I pulled my repulsive, twisted and helpless arm as hard as I could straight out and reversed out the hole where the windshield should have been but never was. I stoop up looking for a way to get her out. As we unbuckled her seat belt she fell to the ground, in a sage manner, and crawled out the same way I had. Being aware at this point that my arm was dangling and weak I screamed to Ashlyn to get my helmet off as fast as she could. A man camping near us had seen us tip over and came to ask us where our camp site was and if any help was there. Thankfully, yes there was. Ashlyn's step mom is a nurse. They ran up to us hoping for the best but getting the worst. Back at the camp site it was confirmed that my arm was in fact broken.

From that point on not only did I have a bright yellow cast on for 16 weeks but I wasn't afraid to live. I started expanding my mind and doing things I hadn't done in months. It took something so bad to open me up so much. Being myself as a outspoken, blunt and positive person felt right and I was finally able to live.