Finding the Light in the Darkness
- Bridget Belden
- Jul 9
- 7 min read
I reach for my towel just outside the shower door.
I turn, my heel, slips on that damn spot.
I’m falling.
Like Alice in Wonderland down the rabbit hole.
Down
Down
Down
Aware of what is happening, but unable to do anything to stop it.
This is going to be bad.
A blink of an eye.
THUD.
I land. Flat on my back. My head already throbbing as it rests on the ledge I had just carefully stepped over.
Total shock.
What the fuck? What just happened?
How am I still conscious?
Wait, am I still conscious?
Tears streaming down my cheeks, mixing with the water as they drip down the drain.
I must be bleeding.
Slowly I sit up, the blood pulsing rhythmically into the bruises that are already beginning to form. The back of my head taking the brunt, protecting what lay beneath my skull. I hoped.
I reach a shaking hand into my thick, dripping hair. Gently feeling the painful bruises, cringing as I did.
I pull my hand out, afraid of what I might find.
No blood.
How is that possible?
I slowly crawl to my knees and carefully stand up. My towel ½ draped around me, heavy with water sponged from the shower floor.
I gingerly get to the tub deck a few steps away, sobs wracking my body from the pain and the shock of what happened.
I am oddly alert.
I have to get to the hospital.
I am alone.
I can’t drive.
My two friends who live closest aren’t home.
My husband, normally 45-60 minutes away at work, happens to be 30 minutes away.
I pick up my cell phone, unsure if he will pick up as his meeting is just about to start.
He does.
I’ll be right there.
I get dressed and slowly walk downstairs to sit and wait in the kitchen.
I grab an ice pack, some water and a protein bar.
__________________
I wait in the ER. Although my head is throbbing, I notice I am watching curiously those around me.
The older man in a wheelchair, who reminds me of my dad,is using a speaker phone to call his sons. His voice is cracking. It's Dad. Give me a call.
Is he alone?
He makes another call.
I hope he’s not alone.
His son answers. He said Mom’s shoulder still hurts, so we brought her in to check it out.
Thanks for keeping me posted. Love you Dad.
Love you too, son.
His friend walks in, checking on him.
Good.
The young woman, slight and delicate, was all by herself quietly, politely, and patiently waiting for her name to be called.
The woman was wearing a long, comfy flannel trench that looked so cozy against the chill of the waiting room.
The couple giggles and laughs as they watch videos on her phone.
The woman cwas omforting her sick daughter, lovingly massaging her hands and arms as she sat wearily waiting for her name to be called.
The door opens, Bridget Belden.
Relief.
I am greeted by a Doctor, and after doing initial neuro tests, she puts a cervical collar on just as a precaution.
She tells me I am on the list for a CT scan to check my neck and brain. There is a room ready for me.
I’m still emotional. I hurt. My head is pounding.
I notice nurses and doctors at the station outside my room. Most laugh and joke as they gather and disperse like a school of fish.
A short time later, an orderly/angel with gold tennis shoes, tiny ponytails on the back of his head, and spiritual, beaded bracelets running up and down his left forearm comes to fetch me for my scan.
As he wheels me down the long, white, antiseptic halls, I say You guys are busy and he says We still only see one patient at a time.
I ask his name.
James, he says.
I ask about him, how long he’s been here. 15 years, he says, but I’ve been doing this almost 40.
I say you must really like it, and he says I love it.
As we wait for the CT machine to become available, he tells me of his philosophy about life.
It’s like a cake. We need all the ingredients - the bitter and the sweet - to make it taste good in the end.
I see a lot of folks come through here. You know, bad things happen to everyone in life. But it’s not so much where you start, it’s how you finish.
He tells me he is part of a group that sits with people who are dying so they won’t die alone.
He asks them if they would live their life all over again - even the hard times.
He says 95% of them say yes.
The CT scan is negative for brain bleeds and a broken neck.
Relief.
The uncomfortable cervical collar comes off.
I’m given a Tylenol for the pain and a tetanus shot as a precaution for a small cut on my scalp.
My head throbbing less, the shock and fear retreating.
The PA comes in to glue my laceration shut. There are two of them, a third in the hall watching from the doorway.
Is this a teaching moment? I ask.
Yes, this is a PA student who is training with me, she says.
I ask the young man standing just outside the door - and you? I ask.
I am hoping to be a PA student like her one day, he says.
___________________________
As I continue to process this experience - the closest to death that I’ve ever come - one thing has become clear:
This fall didn’t happen to me, it happened for me.
Although I lost my footing, I find myself more firmly rooted and centered in trust than I ever have been before. Trust that despite no matter how hard it is, all things happen for us. We can’t have darkness without light, and it’s in the light - those beacons we can hold onto during the hardest of times - that we find our strength. Yes, there is often pain and fear involved when we are undergoing a massive shift. That is part of the process. That is how we learn and grow.
That is what it is to be human.
What this experience showed me quite literally, is that if we can get curious about others and maintain love and compassion- for ourselves and for them - in the midst of our own pain, we can begin to heal.
And we have so much healing to do.
Look at what is happening in Los Angeles and other cities throughout the country. The ICE raids are causing terror amongst residents there, regardless of immigration status. Despite claims to the contrary, the vast majority of them are hard working, tax paying families that make up an integral part of the fabric of the communities in which they live. These are not the criminals they are made out to be.
We need all the ingredients of the cake - the bitter the sweet - to make it taste good in the end.
It is horrifying to witness, and there is also beauty that is growing from it. In the midst of pain and chaos, people are anchored in caring and love, rallying around their neighbors, collecting and delivering food so they don’t have to leave the house. Buying out their food trucks, providing them money so they can stay home with their families without worrying about being detained.
There is something so powerful and inspiring about people in the midst of the worst of conditions sharing love, compassion and connection in community with one another. Not because of race, or gender, or sexual identity, or political party or nationality. Yes, maybe they share some of those things, but because of the ONE common denominator we ALL share: our humanity.
That humanity - is what I felt at the hospital. I felt connection and community- not only with the people who cared for me, but also with the patients I shared space with in the waiting room. And as I returned home and began my own healing journey, I felt the love of those in my life who I have tended to and cultivated relationships with over the years, and the power and beauty of having that love reflected back to me through calls, texts, flowers and I love yous. I felt the compassion of receiving that love and soaking it up rather than brushing it off.
The teaching moment
I think my biggest takeaway from my awakening is that the time is now to start showing up for ourselves so we can show up for one another. Prior to this incident I might have considered it a little trite and dare I say woo-woo to say love and care for one another can heal the world. But now I know more than ever - I feel it in my bones and every fiber of my being - is that this is what this moment is asking of us.
It’s a big ask. But what I know for sure is that possibility lives within each of us. It’s not ‘out there’ somewhere, it lives in our hearts and minds, ready to serve, waiting to be summoned. If we let our fear debilitate us, we will not hear the call.
Sometimes we’ll get it right, but many times we won’t. Treating ourselves with space, grace and compassion when we screw up is how we in turn do the same for others. Over and over and over again.
Like my angel James with the gold shoes said, it’s not so much where you start, it’s how you finish.
Living BRIGHTer is...
B - Be Brave
R - Cultivate Relationships
I - Live with Intention
G - Practice Gratitude
H - Prioritize Health
T - Live your Truth
What is Magenta?
The color magenta is one of universal harmony and emotional balance. It is spiritual yet practical, encouraging common sense and a balanced outlook on life. Magenta helps to create harmony and balance in every aspect of life; physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.
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