I am dedicating my self to post another series under #28GoingStrong for the rest of the year. Once a month, I will put up one post about my journe of #28GoingStrong. I am writing this to help me through things and if you allow it, inspire to another. My life isn't perfect at all. My self is far away from Perfection. But, that'w how it is. Sharing in the limitations.
For the first post, and to open the Amayzing May post, I would like to take a moment and look back. I may say waaayy back. I was not created as Pete Quil to create a planet or to guard a galaxy. I was not special as Harry Potter who could survive of a killing curse and meant to destroy the very bad witch who tried to kill here. I was not Frodo Bagins who has to carry a ring to be destroyed. But, I may say I am survivor.
It took us back 28 years a go, on the same day I was born. 13 April 1989. Around 3 PMish... I was born with perfect limbs and complete organs, but I wasn't crying like the normal baby would do. My face was pale, and my heart beat was low. I was born with C section because I was a 10 month baby. The technology back then was not advanced. I was long over due, and when the doctor checked on me and my mom, my heart beat was nearly nowhere to be found.
I haven't really shared about this to many people. I have posted once on my old blog during my college years, but hat's about it. I think I never really took it seriously, that I could have been dead. My father told me that I was carried by a nurse, and she rushed out from an operation room. Passed my bewildered dad and other family members. I was brought into a room, and my dad could see what the nurse did to me trough the window. She turned me upside down, put a tube inside my throat and sucked what ever it had to be sucked out. My butt was slapped a few times. The routine was done again, and again. It took a couple of minutes when I finally cried out loud. Strong. Alive.
Another story was when I was around 3 years old. My mom was not in Indonesia at that time, because of medical issue. I was left alone with my dad. I was in the car, excited, and suddenly I could not recall anything. The next thing I remembered was, I was on the asphalt, glasses were scattered around me, and I saw blood. I was in the car accident. Thrown away from a car, through the front glass just like one scene in random Rush Hour movie. I cried, but survived. I was found nearly a meter and a half away from the car on the road, only with scratches on both my cheeks and left chin, right elbow, and lower part of my stomach. No internal bleeding or whatsoever. I was crying out loud, but alive.
I never really took these two events seriously until just now when I reflected back to my life and drew a line between then and my current situation. Everybody has their own survival story, but I have to remind my self again through this story, that I was well-prepared for whatever life takes me now.
I am not saying that I am a miracle baby that lives for its own secret mission to save the world. My birth story was a reflection that this baby would always needed to wriggle a little harder, and to be slapped a little harder to stay awake, stay alive. And no matter how hard she was slapped, she was more alive than ever. Same goes with my car accident story. No matter how far I was thrown, maybe wounded a little bit here and there, but stand up finely. Crying, but alive.
AS the first post for this journey, this is a good reminder. A great moment to start. And perhaps to you out there who has been struggling for worst reason than I do have, please think back of how you survived living until now. We are all created uniquely and somehow you have to believe to the cliche fact that people's thoughts are the limits. It's your own choice to survive, or to surrender.
I choose.. to cry.. but alive more than ever.
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| Written by my awesome Opa, when I was born |
CVB
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