The thing I love about my little “Music.Love.Life” tagline (one day the URL will free up and I’ll nab it) is that it means multiple things to me.  Usually on this blog, you guys see one side:  music being a big part of my life. But today’s post isn’t about music.

The “life” part of the tag exists for other reasons, too.

Sixteen years ago today, I fell.  Hit my head.  Pretty hard. (I know, it explains a lot.) Walked around for a few days with a pretty bad headache. Went to the doctor when it wouldn’t go away.  Had a fun little CAT scan, followed by an even more fun ride on a state trooper helicopter.  Too bad I don’t remember that part – by that time, they had me loaded up on pain medication.

See, when I fell, I gave my noggin’ a pretty good shake.  Enough to sheer some blood vessels that caused some blood to leak out and put extra pressure on my brain (hence, the headache).  All the paperwork says “Epidural hematoma,” but my Dad swears it was subdural (he’s a doc, saw the CAT scan).  Either way, same kind of effect.  Made me a little wonky, and required some drilling into my skull to get that blood off and relieve the pressure. Over that week in the hospital, I learned how serious my injury was and how lucky I was … I had a great neurosurgeon, amazing nurses, and family, friends and sorority sisters that were by my side the whole time.

I was 21 when it happened, in the middle of my senior year of college.   Although I was back at school in two weeks (with half of my hair missing!), the whole thing changed my life.  I vowed to reconcile with people I’d had issues with, I promised myself I’d live every day, love my family and friends more, etc., etc.  And I did.  Hell, me mending fences with someone I’d loathed since high school resulted in us dating and me moving to North Carolina.

But sixteen years later, I find myself sitting here on the anniversary of my fall and realizing that I’ve forgotten that resolution to live life to its fullest. The past couple of years have stressed me out to the point where I don’t even recognize myself some days.  Yes, I go out, I do things, I live, I have fun…but more often than not, my brain is working overtime thinking about other things. Work, Mom’s illness, friend drama, lack of a love life, lack of money … Instead of living, I’ve been worrying, stressing, being angry, being hurt, being sad … and I need to stop. Now. It’s not me.

I need to get back to the Krissie that laid in that hospital bed for a week, dreaming of all the things I was going to be, the fears I was going to conquer, the people I was going to love, and the adventures I was going to have if I could just get out of there.

My dear friend Stacy gave me the coffee mug pictured above for my birthday. “Live with passion” is on one side.  The other says  “The universe knows.”  Something about that mug made Stacy think of me…I’d like to think it’s because she knows me and knows that if I’m going to do anything, I do it all the way.  But maybe she gave it to me as a reminder because she’s watched me fall into this rut.  And as I sit here, looking at the mug, I’ve decided it’s my new motto.

“Live with passion.”

Life’s too short not to.