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I Wanted to Be in the Best Shape of My Life at 60. Then I Lost My Leg.

By The Artful Woman
  Before my accident, I kept saying the same thing to myself: I want to be in the best shape of my life when I turn 60. I meant it. I was hiking, walking, going to the gym. I was building strength in my body and imagining a future where I kept getting stronger, not weaker. Then the accident happened. I was still 59. I turned 60 in a hospital bed. I lost a leg. I fractured my other leg in multiple places. I broke ribs. I had vertebrae injuries. My body went into heart and kidney failure. Pain became constant, not occasional. Everything I thought I was building… was suddenly gone. And for a long time, I couldn’t understand something: If I was focusing on health, strength, and vitality… how did I end up here? I used to think maybe I did something wrong. Maybe I thought wrong. Maybe I “manifested” the wrong thing. But I’m starting to see something different now. Life isn’t a formula where good thoughts guarantee safe outcomes. Bodies exist in a world where accidents happen, s...
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Tequila, Trouble, and a Higher Power: Our Mexican Nightmare

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By The Artful Woman


 When my friend and I were underage, we decided to take a trip to Ensenada, Mexico, to party. We were so naïve, and like rookies, we went straight to Hussong's Cantina to take shots. My friend was much better at drinking than I was, and she kept ordering shot after shot, pushing me to drink more. After a while, I got so drunk that I just wanted to go back to our hotel room. But she kept insisting on dragging me downstairs to party more.

At that point, I blacked out completely. We ended up getting into a huge fight because she wouldn’t listen to me. I was way too drunk for someone my age, especially being in Mexico. The situation escalated to the point where we had a physical altercation, and we were kicked out of our hotel room. That’s when the federales got involved, and we were told we had to leave Mexico. Somehow, we both lost our wallets and money in the chaos, and we just grabbed whatever we could before being forced to leave.

Even though my friend was just as drunk as I was, she drove us back toward Tijuana. She was pretty scratched up, with a black eye, and I could barely function. I’m pretty sure I had alcohol poisoning at that point. I think my friend had pot on her, and we ended up having our car confiscated at the border. I don’t even know how we made it to the border, and I don’t remember all the details—everything is a blur. I passed out on the grass once we crossed, throwing up, while my friend somehow found a way to get to a bank, withdraw money, and rent a car. She told me she met a homeless guy along the way who forced her to give him the food she had just bought from McDonald's to keep him away from her, as if we hadn't already been through enough. 

I honestly don’t know how we made it out of that situation unscathed. Looking back, it feels like an army of angels was watching over us. Two drunk, young girls driving through Mexico—one passed out, the other should’ve been—but somehow, we survived. I couldn't even smell tequila for years after that, let alone be around it. It was a stupid, reckless thing we did, but if there wasn’t a higher power looking out for us, I don’t know what else it could have been. That experience was nothing short of a miracle.

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