I was walking down the BART stairs, while simultaneously texting. Apparently, this was a bad idea. I learned this the hard way one particular day when I missed a step, tumbled down the stairs, heard a pop, and wailed in pain. This very well meaning, but very unequipped woman rushed to my side and asked me in a terribly condescending voice, "Hi, Honey! Did you just break your leg?" She further contributed, "I studied pre-med for a couple months, so I can definitely help you." I looked at her dubiously and replied, "I certainly hope that I didn't break my leg."
Concurrently a real doctor came to my rescue, asked the nice, clearly competent pre-med-for-a-month woman to step aside, and accurately assessed my leg. "My dear your leg is fine, but your ankle is most likely sprained. If you can walk to the BART and get yourself home, I'll call off the ambulance. Those can be very expensive." So I listened to doctor's orders, hobbled to the BART where the conductor held the doors open just long enough for me to enter, and boarded the train with mascara tearing down my face.
A sprained ankle is always a pain, but it was particularly inconvenient at this time because I was moving apartments the following day. Moving successfully didn't feel like a possibility in the state that I was in. Luckily, I had eight friends with eight different cars who willingly volunteered to assist me a few weeks prior. When they signed up, they knew that I lived on the second floor of a building and would have to walk two flights of stairs. Additionally, they knew that in my new place I also lived on the second floor and they would have to walk two more flights of stairs. What they didn't know, however, was that I would be incapacitated and not able to contribute. They showed up the day of the move, saw the loaned boot on my leg, appropriately teased me about my opportune timing, and got to work.
They ended up carrying all of my belongings from one apartment to another in just four hours. We spent the rest of the day on the beach with beers, jamming to loud music. Two of the guys even carried me all the way from my towel to the water and back just so I could feel it. I remember exclaiming, "This was so easy! Thanks everyone for helping!" I was overjoyed by the unfailing support of my community. One of my contributors rolled her eyes and countered, "Easy for you, Anne!" My face turned bright red. Embarrassed I agreed and replied, "Yes, thank you carrying me today."
One of the first steps to trauma recovery is letting go of on'es abusive community. Like this isn't hard enough, the following step is to rebuild it. I rebuilt my community by joining a co-ed water polo team, by reconnecting with friends from childhood, high school, college, and graduate school, by beginning new relationships at work. I have been extremely privileged with the people who I have encountered in these places. My community has literally carried me through this recovery process: they have lent me money and their shoulders to cry on, they have employed me, they have reflected to me who I am when I couldn't remember, they have taken me into their families and their homes and made me feel one with them, they have loved me when I didn't have the capacity to love myself. In this entire process a part of me has always been broken and yet my community has always shown up willingly everyday to carry me back to wholeness.
I'm so grateful for the doctor who rushed to my side and saved me money when I really needed it; I'm so grateful for the boot lent to me so I didn't have to get my own; I'm so grateful for the eight friends who lugged all my shit from one place to another with me bossing them around. I'm so grateful that these same eight people showed up at my door eight months later and did it all again, but this time in a building with three sets of stairs and no elevator. Lucky for them, my ankle was fully healed and I could contribute.
I hope as I continue to mend in my recovery process, that I can help carry my community just as they have carried me. Until then, I will continue to enjoy the ride and express my gratitude at every step. Unlike the first move, recovery hasn't been easy for me. But like the first move, with a community of support, it has been possible.