Yes I know, it’s been a long hiatus from the blog…
But let me explain.
While this isn't a story about exotic outdoor adventures, it’ll sure be one hell of a rollercoaster to read.
Back in September I was in the midst of playing field hockey. It was three weeks since pre-season, and my body absolutely hated me. It was also my junior fall, my classes were difficult and I already felt drained.
I honestly can’t remember what I did that day before practice time. All I remember was that the sky was overcast and my head was in a fog. We were scrimmaging, and I began playing defense against my teammate when I felt my overused, almost disintegrated turf shoes stick into to the ground and propel my body forward.
My head hit the ground first, then my left shoulder. When I opened my eyes I could see my teammates looking down at me, confused on how I managed to trip over my own feet. Then I realized I couldn’t get up. When the trainer managed to pull me inside her eyes were wide and informed me I needed to get x-rays.
The journey to the ER was literally the most comical and absolutely PAINFUL experience. I’ve always loved driving my family’s bright orange Jeep Wrangler, but that night, being in the passenger’s seat was a death trap. In that car, you felt every bump, crack, and minuscule pebble on the road pulsating through your whole body.
When I arrived and the ER, the nurse guided me towards the X-Ray room and as he looked down at my file, he read my birth date and sarcastically said:
“Happy Early Birthday”
“Thanks, I got such a great present today”, I smirked, clenching my limp arm firmly to my chest.
The X-ray said it all; my left collarbone is definitely, 100%, broken. From there, they fitted me in a toddler-sized sling and off I went, quickly realizing that I broke my left collarbone and I was left-handed.
Perfect.
When I returned from the hospital, I needed to change and quickly realized I couldn’t take my sports bra off. The multitude of intertwined straps criss-crossed my body so tightly that it was too painful to pry it off.
Is it weird to love an article of clothing as much as I loved that sports bra? That Nike blue sports bra was my best friend; I’d where that thing every day. Yet, I took my scissors, gulped, and started snipping away.
Afterwards, I sobbed.
Why? I have no idea. Did I cry when the nurse at the ER said I broke my collarbone? For some reason not at all! But when I cut off my favorite sports bra, it was like I was my middle-school self watching the end of Titanic for the first time.
For some reason I didn’t throw it away in the trash, like a sane human-being, but I held onto it. After I cut it off, I stared down at it all withered and tangled on the floor. Grieving my loss, I delicately picked it up and placed it across my desk like a prized artifact.
The week after that night was an absolute mess. Sitting in my research methods class for three hours straight while not being able to write was surprisingly the worst thing ever. The class was already difficult and pure lecture, but having to sit there and not even have the pleasure of writing notes or doodling?! Not fun.
What was even worse was not being able to shower because I couldn’t move my left arm without being in incredible pain. So… let’s just say I looked (and smelled) absolutely amazing.
Though I was a hot mess, there was actually a silver-lining.
Particularly, in my photography class. For my early projects, I shuffled around campus one handed, juggling my camera equipment and tripod, trying to find interesting shots in a place photographed hundreds of times. I was frustrated because I physically couldn’t go drive out into the Adirondacks, take a hike, and find my inspiration there. However, I found a new muse.
People.
I began to see hidden stories by photographing my friends and other students, local members of the community, and even myself. These were all subjects I was never comfortable shooting before. I began to see how material objects define ourselves as individuals. I even starting reaching out and actually having conservations with others, taking photographs that portrayed their voice. I started realizing that there was real, tangible meaning behind my work. They were not just pretty pictures of distant landscapes, they were their own hidden novel waiting to be read.
Today, I’m pretty much back to how I felt before I decided to trip over my own feet. Besides doing some physical therapy and being incredibly out of shape, I can move my left arm with ease. The Nike blue sports bra and toddler-sized sling are in the trash.
Through all the frustration and complaining, I came out with a different perception of how I see the world around, both in a broad sense and through the lens.
I know that’s very cheesy to say, but it’s true.