The alarm went off. My room was still dark. Five thirty in the morning. Get my feet on the floor and get into the shower.

Do I really need to go back to work this morning? It’s been six months since the accident, since I had a life.

How do I pick things back up? Fine, I still have my job which is miraculous. Most employers would have thrown me off the books so I should be grateful. I just feel like I’m not the same person they hired and I’m not sure I’m up to doing the work anymore.

I still have some lingering pain but that’s to be expected. It’s still a miracle that I survived the accident and I’m thankful I have no memory of it.

Three days after, I woke up in the ICU, tubes everywhere. Broken leg, broken ankle, ribs, arm and more. When I finally was able to see myself, I looked like an alien.

Now, I feel like one. An alien in my own life.

Just getting dressed in my work clothes seems odd. Thinking about getting in my car brings up a flood of panic. I managed to do a dry run on Sunday but the whole way home my hands shook so hard, I could barely steer the car.

The therapist said to take each moment as it comes. It’s not so easy. Still, try I must. Re-entry is a bitch.