Today marks the 10 year anniversary of the tragic terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center. I spent my day in remembrance of the lives lost and the amazing sacrifices made by our American heros. I’ve enjoyed reading lots of blog posts dedicated to remembering this tragic day, and reading personal stories recalling exact whereabouts and realizations during the tragedy. I think September 11th will forever be memorialized, much like Dec 7th, 1941 –the attacks on Pearl Harbor. And it’s memorials like these that make me so proud to be an American. Sure there are many days that I complain about tax brackets, our health care system, the war on terror, capital bailouts, political stagnancy and so much more. But when it comes down to it, I’m a true Patriot and very proud to have been born and raised in this country. We are a strong nation, and a passionate one. When we are threatened we stand up and fight back; when we are vulnerable, we restructure; and when we fail at something we find a way to do it again, and to do it better.
The strongest surge of emotions that I felt today were compassion, humility, gratefulness and appreciation. Compassion for the mothers and fathers that are now single parents because of losing a loved one on 9/11. Humility for realizing I am blessed beyond words. Gratefulness for my life, my friends and family, and my own passions and inspirations. And appreciation for the little things… being able to call my mother whenever I want to hear her voice, knowing my father is there whenever I need some advice, having two wonderful and supportive grandparents who are helping me while I go back to school, and so much more. And grateful for the air in my lungs, the two strong legs I have to walk on, and my overall health.
This past summer I have spent hours, days and weeks feeling sorry for myself that my joint disease has flared up again full force. Can you imagine not being able to even walk some days because you are in so much pain? It feels unbearable. Intense exercise is out of the question. On my good days I can handle a yoga class or a swim. I have many sleepless nights and Advil is the only thing that gets me through many days. I have complained to the people I love and lashed out at God. I have yelled and bickered. I have cried. And to finally come clean with you all, I have also split with my boyfriend because I became such a miserable and stressed individual. (Yes there were other reasons, but that was the icing on the cake.) But these are small and minor things in the grand scheme of things. So maybe I will never run marathons. Maybe I will have to be cautious and careful of the strain I put on my knee for the rest of my life. And maybe I will have to have another surgery. But guess what? I still have two legs. I can still walk. I can still breathe. And I can still blog ;)
I guess I’m writing this because it’s been on my mind and I needed to spill. Also my knee has been extra bad this week so I decided to schedule myself an appointment within the next few weeks to actually schedule a surgery with my orthopedic surgeon. I am going to try and hold out for December when I go on break from school so that I won’t have to miss classes. But that means I’ll miss spending Christmas with my family in northern Minnesota. I’ll miss the holiday spirit. I’ll miss the glorious snow. And I’ll miss our annual ski trip. I’ll be bedridden for several weeks, on crutches for several more, and endure at least 4-6 weeks of physical therapy. In all, it’s made me really depressed. But something about today and the harsh reality surrounding true devastation and despair has snapped me out of it. I have so much to be grateful for. This is just a dent in the road and I can surely find my way around it.
Thank you everyone for your wonderful posts in memorial of the Sept. 11th terrorist attacks. Thank you blog world for giving me so much humility, hope and encouragement. I love you all.