Over the past three years, I’ve found myself spending countless hours on this chair, right here, yup, this one, perfectly placed against the backdrop of Montana’s beauty. Whether it’s the quiet solitude of sipping coffee in the early morning, the reflective moments accompanied by a delicious cold beer in the evening, or losing myself in the rhythms of music that resonate with the mountains, this chair has become a haven for my thoughts and reflections. It’s where I’ve allowed my mind to wander, dreaming about future travels, tracing imaginary paths on the rugged landscapes of Montana. In these moments, I’ve pondered the twists and turns of life, where I have been and where I am going, finding solace in the stillness of the surroundings and discovering a close connection with the ever-changing beauty that is nature.
In the last five years, my life has been a battlefield, a struggle to recover from a motorcycle accident that left me with a plethora of hurt. We will dive deeper into them as this journal evolves, for now listed below:
28 Stitches
4 Broken Bones
Torn Ligaments
2 Spine Surgeries
Traumatic Brain Injury
Post Concussion Syndrome
Post Traumatic Stress Disorder
It’s been a lot to process, a lot to talk about. Not so much dwelling on the past, but focusing on the future that has been granted to me. Throughout this journey, I’ve often faced it alone, preferring solitude to repeating the same story over and over. A friend’s check-in, a family member’s outreach, a lawyer guiding me on how to navigate life — these were the intermittent connections during a time when facing such a massive challenge often meant facing it alone.
Blame was thrown around, mostly at myself, but this journal isn’t about blame. It’s about rebirth, a second chance at life, and the incredible fortune of having an amazing group of people waiting for me when the darkness was overwhelming.
During recovery, I envisioned the day I could stand atop a mountain, screaming about the freedom I’d finally attained — freedom from burdens imposed by others and myself. I’m liberated, released from the chains that were my thoughts, for we had plenty of those over the years.
A recurring desire during my recovery was the lack of human connection — to be close, to talk, to laugh, and perhaps, to hug. But where I was, how hurt I was, human connection seemed impossible. My body and mind rejected it, presenting one of the most challenging life lessons I’ve faced. If you knew me before, you’d say I was anything but people-shy. Now, life moves at a slower pace, and I listen more than I talk. The brain injury made life harder, interactions challenging, but I found solace on my mountain top in Montana with my loving best friend, Freyja.
Why journal and why now?
As my legal case neared its end, as my body regained strength and my mind sharpened, I felt a strong urge to reconnect with humans. How? I wasn’t sure. Why? Because I missed the stories we made together. When? That’s uncertain, but what I do know is that I’m open to connection from wherever it may come. At this time, the connection is me speaking out loud as all thoughts I have held in, wants to come out. Hoping to find humans who want to join in and connect deeper than your average surface level bullshit. Let us connect. Let us grow, together.
Journal
Writing is a love of mine, a hidden part of my creative side that surfaced unexpectedly. I’ve learned to say ‘fuck it’ to the mindset of seeking validation. I’m here to write for myself and those who want to listen. This journal will blend long-form text with visuals. While the text is new, visuals are not. Creating images, both moving and still, has been a longstanding passion, abruptly halted by the accident — much like an amazing first date that never led to a second. Yet, the desire remains, and this journey is about making sense of it all.
Why now of all timings
Life provides us with time — time to be a child, time to experience life as a teen, and time to live before it all ends. Rushing only makes time slip away faster. Sitting on my chair, gazing over the rocky mountains, I’ve realized the value of moving slowly. I’ve rushed through much of my life, always chasing the new. Time is all I’ve had over the last five years, and the change in myself is evident. I won’t let time be rushed again. Moving slow has taught me that completing tasks is faster when you embrace a slower pace. Slow is fast, and slow is for me. Now is the right time to tell my story — for me and those who want to listen.
№ 001
This is just the first journal of many, as many as my mind wishes to write. Summarizing the past five years in one go is impossible, but that’s also the beauty of it. The journey has only just begun for me, and there’s much more to share when my mind decides. It could be tomorrow, it could be in a month.
Excited that you are here; next time, we’ll chat about how a fika can bring us together, if you dare to join in.
-cb