This Blog is an Invitation to Life

Dear reader,
this is a message that hit our mailbox today and I’d like to share it with you. Today it was sort of a lousy day, because I hosted a workshop yesterday and was rather ill, so as a consequence today I cannot talk, because I’ve nearly lost all of my voice. So I cannot call anyone, nor pick up the phone (which means I’m pretty bored). Then unexpectedly, this happened. And the sender was kind enough to let this message be shared. I have nothing left to say in addition. Not just because I’ve lost my voice, but because there’s nothing left to be said. 
 
Dear Ribalon,
you don’t know me and I don’t know you. But somehow I feel like I’ve known you forever. I’ve been quite miserable for quite some time. In 2012 I’ve had a car accident. I was in a car with my boyfriend at the time and his sister. We were going home from a concert. He was driving and I don’t remember much, because it was night and we were sleeping – the last thing I remember is him covering me with his jacket so I wouldn’t get cold. The next thing I woke up in the hospital from a coma a few days later. I won’t bother you with details. However in just one night, I’ve lost the love of my life and my own identity. I ended up in a wheelchair. Couldn’t find any reason to live anymore. Nothing made sense. I was nobody, I had nobody. I didn’t know neither who I was, nor who I am supposed to be now. And why. So I stopped attending my university, all I did was browsing the internet and playing some sagas on my ipad. I secretly wished my life was over and I blamed my boyfriend for leaving without me. I blamed myself for letting him drive. I blamed the singer for performing that night. I blamed my parents for having me.
 
Then one day I found your blog. Your logo caught my attention, because it’s so childlike. It was in October 2014 and I was just typing in some keywords about coaching and stuff. Your posts at first didn’t mean much, but they were somehow interesting and somewhat cosy to read, because you were only inviting your reader to join, but never imposed your preaching. And you felt so close, not at all high or perfect and I liked that. I perceived your blog as a silent invitation to life.
 
It’s more than one year since. So I thought I’ll let you know what happened because of, or by following your blog.
 
I am still struggling to figure out what to do and how to adjust to my new situation and my new identity. But I went back to the university. I know it’s not my fault things happened the way they did. And I suppose me staying alive had some underlying reason. And I should make some sense of it. Though it’s still very hard and it hurts me even thinking about it, let alone writing about it, I know I have to stop hiding. And your kind posts helped me do that, step by step. 
 
I realize you didn’t and couldn’t know that. However for me it was like this little light bulb, telling me I’ll be ok. I’m not ok yet. But I have hopes I might get there one day. I simply want to thank you for this and I hope to meet you one day to tell you that personally. Please let me know if you’ll ever host a workshop in XXX, because I’ll surely be your no.1 participant. But you’ll have to find a place that is wheelchair accessible.
 
I hope this message finds you well and sorry for its length.
 
Sincerely,
XXX
sunset

This is my aunt’s picture from her seahouse. I suppose as long as we are able to notice features like these, we might find a reason to smile.

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