Processing Trauma

I noticed today that my fingernails all have a little transvere ridge running across them. Each of the nails have the anomaly at the same point and are pushing it out of my fingers at the same rate. I can't help but compare myself to a tree, whose traumas are reflected in rings. If the rate of growth is to be believed, the ridge would have developed on my fingers at the time of the accident and is just now being expelled from my system.

This is appropriate. I am graduating from a set of health problems to a whole new set of anxieties. I need a job; I need a car. I need a leg especially. And my coping mechanism needs to adapt; I need to become tenacious and aggressive instead of cheerfully resigned. And it is a familiar feeling. I feel burdened (although what I have experienced is nothing extraordinary) and find myself curled up on the bed, whimpering like an abused dog. This is the same spot I was in before the accident; check my blog and see for yourself. I need, therefore, to surpass this life, but not by passing into the next one. After all, I'm not allowed to die. No, I get to make this life fit me, in all my reflective splendor, and let it stand as a testament to the healing and completing power of God.