No one can see into the inner world of a person after an accident and unless something similar has happened to someone, they cannot imagine it. The assumptions about what it might be like that another person thinks of are just hypotheses, created differently by everyone's individuality. I honestly haven't heard anything from a single person that resembles my actual inner feelings. I'll keep the innermost ones to myself, it's my deepest privacy, but I write about it to point out that each person experiences this sort of thing very differently. It doesn't matter if it's worse or better, it's just different. It was a torture for me at times to listen to the hypotheses of others that had nothing to do with my inner self. Admittedly, it was interesting to observe, because these people were actually telling me in a completely guileless way what they were like and what they had inside. I don't think anyone realized that they were actually telling me what they were really like and what they were most afraid of when they hypothesized about me.

I couldn't do anything about it, but in some places it annoyed me that someone was making up delusions about what I was going through, while I just wanted to live normally for the first month in the hospital, eat normally for the next two months, see normally for the next two months and be able to go out, another two months to be able to play more sports, another two months to not gain any more weight, another two months to finally hear from some friends and people who were close to me but who had been totally ignoring me until I realised that I wouldn't hear from them again, and so on.

Of course, I was also experiencing the aesthetic side of my loss. I was an attractive woman at the height of my career, and suddenly I was a monster. But in the context of everything I was going through, that wasn't the first thing that mattered. Afterwards, when some people mentioned how hard it must be for me to look so awful now, it made me almost angry. I wondered if it even occurred to them that they thought I was a primitive lobotomist who only cared about how I looked. As if they didn't understand that my whole face was broken, that I was blind when I woke up and could have gone completely or partially blind, that my breathing was bad, that my mouth was wired so I couldn't eat normally, that I didn't have front teeth and wouldn't have them anymore because a piece of bone was missing along with them, that my eyes were displaced and I was seeing double, etc. The last thing that bothered me for the first six months was how I looked. Sure, I was aware of how some people were staring at me. I could play some Frankenstein sequel in a heartbeat. I gained 20 pounds in two years. Half of it I was aware of, the other half happened sort of without me knowing.

The fundamental recommendation after an injury is: weigh yourself. If you don't have a scale like I did, buy one and get on it every week. As soon as you hit 5kg, start doing something about it. It will save you a lot of grief. The modern attitudes that weight doesn't matter are what helped me to put on 20kg unnoticed. I don't want to go into too much detail about how to lose weight because I have no patent on it, but I recommend not trusting anyone who builds you a nutrition and/or training plan without knowing your weight and the distribution of muscle, fat and water in your body. It's like going to a specific place in a strange forest without a map - you may get there eventually, but it's not certain and it will take time. Personally, I was able to start losing weight after a while and completely by accident. Because I was holding back an enormous amount of water and couldn't figure out what it was. After a while I tried about the 80th thing in a row and that was to severely limit my coffee intake. Does that sound unbelievable? I think so too. I was drinking 2-4 (rarely 5) coffees a day, definitely not exceeding the safe amount, which is generally calculated at 400mg per day. But probably this amount of coffee, along with the change in lifestyle (slowing down), caused enormous water retention. Once I limited coffee to a max of 2 coffees a day, miraculously everything changed. Within days I felt the bloating subside, my belly shrink, the weight started to actually go down, I was finishing my clothes. It was like a miracle. It grated on my nerves that I had paid several people throughout the year before to give me advice and not one told me that coffee could have such a profound effect and that it was worth a try to see what the change would do.

Just as my body was bad, my head was bad. The initial euphoria was replaced by a period of confusion. Sometimes I felt trapped. Very clear visions entered my head, some of them very soon coming true. I don't think I had a gift, but there were times when I often sensed what was going to happen or what was happening somewhere outside my presence. This was then confirmed to me. But this non-gift was much more frightening than helpful and fortunately it didn't last long, it's much milder now. Gradually I understood that it was probably a reverberation of the approach to death. It stayed with me like a shadow, which is scary but friendly at the same time. I think it altered some of my perceptions. I definitely feel like I see evil in some people since the accident. Lots of all kinds of evil. I know it sounds like esoteric mumbo jumbo, but I just have that feeling and it affects me a little bit. Or rather, it's impossible to ignore.

Just as the body needs to be watched, the head also needs to be watched. The onslaught is tremendous, much greater than one would think at the time. It can't be thought of, or planned, or arranged. But one has to go through it, ideally as openly as possible, without suppressing emotions. Of course, one doesn't want to bombard some victim of the environment with everything that his head can think of, but I recommend to create some kind of valve. Talking to yourself, seeing a therapist, writing it down, or all of these things together. There is some shame for a lot of the stuff that suddenly comes up inside, but repressing it can be terribly dangerous to future health and the recovery process. Personally, I recommend that you prefer to occasionally insult someone or make an ass of yourself, but don't stifle it inside. There's going to be a lot of it.

I don't think like that. I don't know how to regret things that were out of my control. It's hard to regret wanting to take a cab somewhere this afternoon. I don't see life as being written in destiny and it will come to pass. I don't even think that anyone or anything controls what happens to us. I find that kind of thinking extremely naive. I think it's much simpler in a physical, chemical, biological, sociological, demographic sense. Part of our lives are determined by where, when and to whom we are born and what kind of childhood we have, what we are driven to do and what our natural intelligence, nature and value system we develop. Another part is determined by the environment we come into contact with in life, the strata of society where we move. And then there is a set of coincidences, opportunities, unexpected encounters that can change the direction of our whole being - some we can influence and some we can't, they just happen. Well, here's what happened to me.

It was a big change from the life I had been leading, my health and energy completely changed for a while. I don't regret it, because there was no way to avoid this kind of reality. I decided as soon as I could to make the best of the situation. And that may well be a guide to overcoming unexpected episodes - to take the best they offer. When my particular situation didn't offer anything good, because it was just horrible and painful and desperate in places, I at least took from it that it was an interesting experience that doesn't just happen to anyone. When I was sick, I told myself that at worst I would die and it wouldn't be so bad because when I was almost dying, it was beautiful.

A daily uphill journey, that's what I would call the road to recovery. And with 20 kilos of gear. What's the reality of what helps and what doesn't?

It's probably different for everyone and something different. The key for me was to know myself well and to know what works for me, what motivates me, what makes me feel good, what doesn't and what I should avoid altogether.

I recommend trusting your judgment and only consulting with a certain number of people. You also need to review your patterns of behavior. The road leads from somewhere to somewhere and must be followed. Certainly one must relax and not rush, but go. If one wants to cross the desert and stays in the first oasis, it may be a fine life, but one will not cross the desert. What may help in the early months may be a nuisance later on. The person you were seeing for the first six months may continue to hold you back. Let's not forget that not everyone achieves great things and overcomes great obstacles. It is possible that some of the people who have come around after your accident have their own world in a similar state to yours just after your accident. But you will eventually get to a different world, your friend's world may still be the same. In that case, it's better to say thank you for a bit of the journey together and move on at your own pace.

I've lost more people along the way. Some dropped out on their own, some had to be left in the oases. More than ever, it confirmed to me that no one pleases everyone and that it doesn't pay to be hypocritical with everyone. The path, besides being hellishly demanding, also requires purity and honesty. Without that, one can get lost somewhere along the way and have no idea where to look. Whoever you can't rely on 100% in the desert, don't go with them. It could cost you your life.

Routine and regimen. A wild idea for some, including my younger self. Not that I had problems with discipline or persistent work, but the words routine or regimen made me feel shackled. They are, however, good helpers and best friends in a pinch. Children also benefit from regimen and routine in their daily growth and education. It's because it's safe - if you know that on Monday this happens and then it will feel like this, then you sleep and on Tuesday that happens and it brings that feeling - then that's home and peace. And home and peace is the best way to heal. I've calmly kicked the can down the road, stayed up all night watching a show, done something spontaneous that wasn't planned, but only if it still made me feel good the next day. If I found that it rather threw me off, I didn't do it very often. Great things grow in daily routines and routines.

A similar lens could be used to look at the regular little things, whether mischief or good habits. Taking a 5km walk every day means 150km of clear head a month. Eating a 100g snack every day means 3kg of sugar a month. Drinking 2 shots every day means 3 bottles of hard liquor a month. And so we could go on. If a person accomplishes a piece of their plans or does something for their health every day, and if they deny themselves one thing every day that is detrimental to their health or holds them back from their dreams, in six months it will make a huge difference.

I tried not to trust anyone who promised me quick results without work. Without honest work, there is nothing good in life. Shortcuts don't lead to good, breaking the process doesn't work. We can read about that in Faust. Patience is essential and the process must be undertaken willingly.

There will be bad days, weeks, months. Sometimes you overcome a lot of obstacles and all of a sudden complications appear and you go back to the beginning or even to the negative. Those are terrible times. Nothing good can come of them and it would be better to sleep through them or sleep through them. But unfortunately that doesn't help. They have to be lived like all the others. Unfortunately, there is no getting around it, every obstacle demands the full attention of the traveller.

What if it doesn't work? Well, that can always happen. Just like you could get run over by a train or drop a flower pot on your head from your balcony at any time. We can't control those things. But if we make an honest effort, if we're honest with ourselves, then it won't matter that it doesn't work out in the end or that it doesn't work out 100%. One will know that one has not failed.

My personal guide on how to plan your trip so that it can be missed is quite simple. I recommend keeping or re-installing at least one long-term commitment that will be externally managed. Because if you're not in shape, it can be challenging to keep resolutions that only you have oversight over. For example, I've started studying. I had such a rigid regimen set by the school that I had to follow, turn in papers on time and study for and pass exams. I don't think, especially in the first six months, I would have been able to fake that kind of homework on my own. I probably would have given up on those. But I didn't want to give up on school, so I had to work hard despite my poor vision, poor concentration, and poor general condition. During the pandemic, we took a lot of classes remotely. Not all the teachers knew how I was doing, so when I passed the exam, it really proved to me that my head was working well.
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The post-traumatic state is also a good time to revise all sorts of things that have bothered you before and you haven't found the courage to change them. Didn't enjoy your work? Change it, or change your whole career. What we do every day, and how satisfied we are with that activity, fundamentally affects the quality of our lives. If it's not fulfilling, change it before you burn up like paper. It's a shame to spend your life doing something that doesn't make sense to you. In recovery, doing something that doesn't make sense to you is completely wrong. A recovering person needs joy every day, the feeling of a day well-lived, absolute peace and the absence of fear or unhealthy stress. Do everything you can to achieve this.

If your health allows it, play sports. Sport or any regular exercise is perhaps the easiest way to change your life for the better. When I see healthy people around me who don't play sports at all, I don't understand. If an injury or illness stops you, it's no fun to lose fitness, ability, courage and have to start again. Start anyway, if you can, just a little bit. Sport really does help not only the body but the head, we burn faster, we break down pollutants faster, we may even repair ourselves faster, we regularly force ourselves to be better than last time. It's easier to create things in momentum than in stagnation. Plus, it's easier to think while moving.

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I'll explain. A psychotherapist once explained to me what a "frontal experience" was and what the consequences were. The term is easy to Google, so I won't go into it, just briefly: it's an experience described in soldiers of the First World War who encountered horror, unprecedented until then, at the front. A horror that, specifically for WWI, is often described as a grueling prolonged one-on-one war, including the horrific phenomena of trenches, battle gases, blade fighting, etc. The front experience has thus taken its place in psychology as a description of an experience so shattering and fatal in the sense of an encounter with death and, in fact, even more horrible things that it permanently marks and changes the survivor. I don't intend to compare myself to soldiers in war, but it can be used to describe how one feels in subsequent ordinary life quite well. Few people can imagine what you've been through, you don't ask anyone to do it of course, but you're completely on your own. At the same time, things that are incommunicable have been revealed to you, and you perceive everything a little differently already.

For everyone these moments are probably a bit different, they are related to the individuality of the person. For me, it also opened my eyes to what I used to like and what behaviour I tolerated. It had to do with my lifelong feeling of inadequacy, probably because I didn't have a father, or rather there was a father, but he never showed any interest in me, which marked me for life. Suddenly, after going through all of that, I realized that I had accepted things about myself that I definitely didn't want to accept anymore. I began to perceive behavior that was suddenly completely shocking to me. Correcting these habits was not easy. For one thing, sometimes the other people couldn't or wouldn't understand, and for another, conflict couldn't always be avoided. It was a long and difficult task for me personally, because I had functioned all my life in such a way that if I cared about someone, I was able to tolerate absolutely anything. It was very easy for me to be convinced that the fault lay with me and that this person's behaviour was perfectly normal and I was the one being overly sensitive. After the trauma, it dawned on me that even though I am hypersensitive and even though I make mistakes, it's not okay for anyone to think of me as the one who will always be there and put up with everything, get over everything, forgive everything. As someone who can be hurt in any way and will always understand and who can be asked to do anything and will always do it. I began to realize that it shouldn't be like that.

Every time I cut off a tentacle, I was relieved. Some of the detachments were painful and difficult. The period after the detachments was challenging in a different way, a sense of injustice and anger set in. These were emotions that I also had to grind out over time so they wouldn't burn me. While anger serves well in the moment of needing to separate, it can be damaging over time. Resentment and bitterness bring about aridity and cynicism, which inevitably leads to bitterness, which easily leads to resentment and anger. That's what I really wanted to avoid, and I have this process in my head as an alarming light that keeps flashing and that I have to keep an eye on. I highly recommend anyone who has had injustice, tragedy, misfortune in their life not to underestimate this. I think it's much better and healthier for others to remain maybe a little bit of a freak, crazy or however bizarre a person is, but definitely not to become bitter.

So there was a revision of my own structures at the broadest level after the accident. Not only inwards, but also outwards. These changes cost a lot, often the change of environment itself is life changing. I'm sure that if it is done after mature reflection, it is always for the better in the end, even if painful. An injury will test all bonds, family, friends, partners, business. All of them. And it will unerringly separate the real from the superficial.

The fact that no one around me really understood or could imagine what I was going through and what I was experiencing made me very lonely. To shut myself away in my own world and do my own thing, to study in peace and not talk to anyone for a week was new to me at first, but I gradually found a love for it.

My private fantasy world grew, I found a new hobby in various imaginations, rituals. I have come to understand fully the meaning of these customs and that it is quite irrelevant whether these things are real or only happen in our heads. What is important is what they bring us and whether we are happy, whether we fall asleep peaceful and wake up cheerful, whether we are well most of our days and fulfill our wishes and dreams, whether we are at peace with our devils and whether we at least dust the skeletons in our closet regularly and have no problem showing them to someone from time to time so that they don't grow in horror. Some people use devotion to work for such a state, some people care for their families, and some people are ultimately happy to be alone and have an inner world like me. This private kind magic has helped me find peace and tranquility.

I suggest you get used to living alone. People who constantly need companionship and can't be alone are the first in line to be written off. Alone we are born and alone we die, alone we have to go through pains and hard times and alone we should be able to bear happiness. If someone can't be alone, they're in trouble. If something happens to him that he has to be alone for, he is in danger of not being able to cope at all. A rich inner world, a built stable life, a secure personal bubble - these are values that, although you can't show them on social media and negotiate them and collect accolades, are the best prerequisites for surviving even very unpleasant things.

I've been transformed. I've probably aged inside with the infinite amount of time I've spent in artificial sleep, even though it really only lasted a few days. But in my head, it took years, decades, ages. Plus, I was pretty much incapacitated in there, and someone was constantly trying to take my life, so it wasn't a pretty experience.

Today I perceive time-related matters a little differently than before the accident. Before the accident I was aware of my years and that they would increase (if everything went well and I didn't die prematurely) and that every day I faced the fact that I would never be younger than I am now. But I wasn't afflicted by the modern addiction to youth, I liked my first wrinkles and each year I felt better about my life - more confident, more sure of myself. After the accident, I began to see time, as it were, in the whole complexity of human life. It was as if I could sometimes meet my younger self in the past, but also my older self that hadn't happened yet. I was able to realize how things might have unfolded if I had let them or if I had changed them. Sometimes I feel like I can see into different versions of the future, so I have the opportunity to choose which one I really want to experience and which one I see as an idea. Sometimes I also feel that I can see the futures of others, especially people close to me - sometimes it seems that their older self is talking to me. I then evaluate if that self is the one that person would like to have happen to them. I look at my older self in the same way, and when I feel comfortable and at ease in their company, I feel I am moving in a good direction. I don't think I could ever have known anything like that if I hadn't lived that special time in my head in an artificial sleep. I consider it one of the gifts that my injury has brought me.

Perhaps these are quite usual and common feelings, but they were new to me after the accident to such an extent and depth. I have always been aware of the mortality not only of myself but of those I love. But today I also know that the difference between me in my prime years at the computer as I write these lines and me in my advanced years on my deathbed is but a few hazy days and moments that will eventually be remembered, along with the ones I've already had 35 years from now, as one brief sequence of experiences. It is up to me how I live those moments. And so I have decided to live them for real, to make my heart leap with joy every day, to bring tears to my eyes with emotion, and to occasionally have unforgettable moments when I feel that this is it, and that this is a life worth living.