Today is September 7th. It's still a difficult day for me and brings back memories of a brutal assault that occurred thirteen years ago today. Every year, I think back to that Labour Day weekend in September, 2004, while I was out on my morning run, Running has been my lifeline for many years and it has helped me cope with depression. On this morning I was randomly attacked from behind by two thugs. There was no motivation to attack me personally. It was not a hate crime against a gay person. They were just out looking for someone to beat up, and I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. In attempting to escape, I ran faster than I had ever run in my life and I lost my balance. At full speed my knees smashed into the pavement and my head hit the ground. I was unconscious for several seconds. When I came to and tried to get my bearings, I opened my eyes to see one of my attackers flying through the air attempting to land by kicking my head in. Bizarrely, I had a very surreal thought as it was happening that it reminded me of an old Juicy Fruit commercial, with a snowboarder flying off a hill. I could almost hear the music. I also recall thinking that I needed to move aside before he smashed my head in. It still amazes me to think back on this and remember all these thoughts that must have taken place in a split second. I don't know how I moved quickly enough to avoid getting my head smashed in, but I did. I rolled out of his way and avoided the death landing. Bystanders were calling 911 as the attackers fled the scene. My knees and elbows were covered in blood and my head and shoulder were bruised. I was in a daze and taken to the hospital. It took several days to determine the full extent of the injuries and I was terrified I would never be able to run again. Not only did they assault and traumatize me, they killed my only coping strategy to deal with depression. How was I ever going to survive? I wasn't sure I wanted to. I went from being a long distance runner to someone who could barely walk. It took nearly two months of therapy before I was able to start running again. When I began hitting the running paths again, I felt motivated to sign up for a local half marathon. At that time, I had not run a race in 21 years and thought those days were far behind me, yet somehow, it seemed like a way of reclaiming my life. The race route took me right past the place where I was assaulted, and it seemed like a symbolic way of putting it behind me. There were tears in my eyes at the end of the race. I was still alive, still running, and even though they never caught my attackers, I was moving on with my life. A year later: After the euphoria of crossing the finish line I slowly began realizing the trauma, anxiety and stress were not so easily erased. On the first anniversary of the assault, I recall going out for a run, aware of the significance of the day, and feeling some anxiety that it was going to happen again. I could intellectualize that the likelihood of such a phenomena repeating itself exactly a year later, was practically non-existant, yet I still felt anxious. I managed to get through the day without falling to pieces. During this time I found a book titled "Working with Available Light." It was a biography about a woman who was brutally assaulted while on a run and the impact it had on her and her family. I'd just started reading it before the first anniversary of the assault. I got to a passage in the book where she talks about not feeling any better a year later, that in the initial months she felt that she was moving forward, yet, she really wasn't. In the space of a few short moments, she wrote, the assault changed her life and took away any sense of joy and pleasure. For the first time I broke down and cried because I realized that I felt exactly the same way. In that short period of violence, it's like you've been lifted put of your life and you land in a slightly different place where the world just isn't the same anymore. Afterwards, you live with the anxiety and an even greater feeling that you or someone you care about could get hurt. You live with a heightened awareness of the fragility of life. You lose your sense of safety. Thiirteen years after the assault: Thirteen years later, the memories are still in my mind, but they are not quite as vivid or painful. The flashbacks, the PTSD are far less frequent, and there are genuine moments of happiness again. Time may not heal all wounds, but it can lessen the intensity of the pain. These days, I am more aware of the difference I have made in the lives of people. I have always been passionate about my work as an advocate for vulnerable people in the non-profit sector.. In the years since the assault, I am appreciative of the numbers of people I've been able to help, and the fact that I'm still here to fight passionately for them. I also spend more time reaching out to family and friends, especially this time of year, sometimes making them a gift, as a way of saying I'm still here. Labour Day weekends are always difficult, but after all this time, I'm still moving forward. Today is a beautiful September morning, just made for a long run, much like that morning of thirteen years ago. The sort of day when you can remember that the world is, amongst other things, still beautiful.
I'm so glad that you had the strength to never give up. You overcame your fears and anxiety. And I know a thing or two about anxiety. You had the courage to rise above what happened to you. Your strength should be an inspiration to all of us. I wish you nothing but the best.
I am glad that you decided to share your story. I can so relate to it because for a long time, I was this way whenever the Easter holiday approached because I was raped and beaten by someone whom I thought was a very close friend of mine while I was under the sedation of prescribed medication. He was very aware that I had taken the medication and went further to pry my mouth open and pour liquor down my throat on top of that medication which really caused a lot of more problems for me. After being found and rushed to the hospital, the doctors had informed me that my condition was too far advanced (my kidneys and lungs collapsed at the same time) and that I would not make it through the operation. They also contacted my family as well. Long story short, I was in a coma for quite some time and instead of dying on the operating table, I was in a coma but my motor skills were working quite well despite being in that condition. Once out of the coma, I was not able to talk for a little over a year as well as eat solid foods. I was informed that this is condition is my future and I will never talk or eat solid foods again and therefore, I had a hole in the middle of my throat with a tube inserted in it in order to transmit liquid food to through my body. Anyway, after several surgeries and therapy, I was able to speak and eventually able to eat solid foods again. I am a walking miracle to this day. Nonetheless, it took me a long time to be able to not reflect on that incident whenever the Easter holidays would approach each year. However, over the past few years, I have been able to not think of that incident or what I went through afterwards whenever the Easter holiday came around and so will you in time. Take care of yourself and hang in there...I promise you..I can and will get better...JS
Wow that's such a scary story! I'm glad you were able to overcome your fears and anxiety! ;o; Your strength is so amazing and I wish I had that kind. Thank you so much for writing this as it was very motivating and real to read.
Someone tried to get at me once. He is unable to walk now, and will be in that wheelchair for the rest of his life.
