#im not religious at all but i did go to a christian school for twelve years

[stil-lindigo]

the fox god.

a comic about a trickster.

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[cyanicselkie-blog]

Probably the reason im crazy

Hey there, Six. NDE, you say? Well… I was in a comatose state induced by severe head trauma back in 2004 I wasn’t technically pronounced dead, but I feel you would enjoy this story either way. I will say a lot of detail is hazy. However, I’m sure you can figure out why. I do apologize for the long story! I am a writer by trade and this is a story that has haunted me for 13 years.

Before my story begins, I will say that I am not a religious person. My parents taught me christianity simply because its was my family’s tradition. However, they also taught me evolution, mythology, and anything else that can be considered religious. As for myself, I believe in evolution mixed with a third party influence. Call it God or aliens, doesn’t matter to me, but I consider myself agnostic though open minded. The reason I say this is because I don’t fully believe in guardian angels.

In elementary, my parents worked a lot which usually meant someone else from my family was sent to pick me up from school and watch me til they were done. In fourth grade, I was having a regular school day that I no longer remember. After school, I hopped into the passenger seat of my grandmother’s little blue car and settled my rolling backpack in front of me. I will admit, I didn’t put my seatbelt on. Because of my small height, the belt dug into my neck and honestly was painful. Looking back, I’m sure I would have been okay if I was in the backseat or wearing the damn belt. But I didn’t and no one corrected me. I was simply a child, a few months from my 10th birthday, I didn’t know why safety mattered for I was never hurt.

Rolling away from school, we came down the hill to a four way intersection that I have paused at hundreds of times since then. The fire station on the left, the little donut shop to the right, and the antique store that blocked sight of the other road. The light turns green, the car starts, we are talking about what I learned at school, and then a honk before the chaos. The blind corner gives birth to a large red truck that I never got to see before it crushed into the small scrap metal i was now inside of. My body shoots forward and my head hurts. I slam back in my seat, dizzy and confused and aching in pain. Another hard hit from behind, I can hear shattering glass and screeching tires but the pain is gone. Everything goes black, whispered screaming of a voice I know.

I see no light, no tunnel, no angels. Only blackness with flashes of light like still awake but with my eyes closed. I couldn’t feel the seat, the paramedics taking me from the car, or the needles they stuck in me. The only sound is dripping water, steady drops in a full pool. I can barely pick up the words that have no meaning echoing past the water. A voice I never heard before, a whisper that had no face in my mind. I never could figure out the words or what happened. 3 hours later, I find myself fluttering back to reality in a hospital bed with no memory of who I was. I lost everything of my childhood. I didn’t know my best friend, my family, or even what my name was. Everything that I was… Gone. Eventually, memories came back to me, but I am still missing large portions of my life before the crash.

I’ve asked my grandmother many times about what happened. As the truck hit us, and no one is sure how this happened, the handle of the backpack flew up. Now, this is a rolling luggage bag for kids with a hard plastic handle with metal bars that pop out to roll the bastard. This handle saved my life!!! The first hit when I was just dizzy: that my head hitting it, bending the handle in the process. The second hit that came from behind didn’t leave me so lucky. My already bleeding head shatters the windshield, a large spiderweb cracked across the entire glass sheet. Thanks Dad for the hard skull. Although I still have the huge dent in my forehead and several scars in my hair from the glass, I survived.

Now… This is the part of the story where I stop normally. If this wasn’t a secret side blog, I wouldn’t continue. But screw it, right?

Soon after my crash, I was a complete wreck. 9 years old, being forced to restart my life already, and I was extremely unstable. Remembering things hurt, pretending I knew people hurt worse. I became so worried about saying something wrong or ‘not acting like myself’ that I was quickly on route to being introverted. My parents moved soon after, hoping a new school would help me, but to be honest, it only made my life worse. I was treated like I was disabled, which I guess I was, but I felt normal… As normal as I could be. 2 years after my crash, I was diagnosed with mild schizophrenia and multiple personality disorder along with a few other ‘common’ mental illnesses like paranoia and social anxiety. I’ve had a therapist since I was twelve who knows more about me than my family or partner. The voice from my black out is still with me. As I grew older, I heard him more clearly to the point that I know everything he says now. At first it scared me, then it became a normality. I named him, gave him an image, and just let him do whatever he wanted. He isn’t evil, though that’s not to say he is good either. I will not explain what he is because I have no idea. A few people who know about him say its a demon, a guardian angel, or some other religious thing that basically is born to watch over me. Others say its just my own mind, like a demented consciousness of my own creation. Seeing that I bury most of my emotions and urges, that isn’t hard to believe. Maybe its just a side effect from knocking my brain around, maybe its just the schizophrenia, but it still bothers me at times with a single thought.

“Where did I go and what did I bring back with me?”

Side Note :: If I can find the crash pictures, I will gladly post them because I can already tell that people will call bullshit on my story. My grandmother had them all since it was her car. 100% this happened and I am the proof. Also, I wanted to keep the backpack that saved me, but sadly I had no say in the matter when we moved. Besides, I don’t think the hot pink butterflies match me anymore.

Side note 2 :: Since the first crash, I’ve had 4 more accidents, but none as severe. I have serious anxiety when entering any car with any driver to the point that I have a personal relationship with the 'oh shit’ bar on the passenger door. I still hyper ventilate when stopped at that intersection without fail.