So, I started thinking about how I was going to change my life. I had to lose weight. I had to do something which would provide me with some mobility. I needed to get outside more often. But it was so very difficult to pull away from the perfect world I�d created on-line. I didn�t want to stop being Tiger.

I started talking about it with Doug. A lot. A whole lot. He and I spoke about going through shit and how we both wanted to change our lives. In the Lair, when Doug wasn�t playing a character, but was coming into the Lair as himself, (his user name was __DOUG__) he would often wear a Chicago Bears ball cap. Each time he wore it, Tig�s first action was to try to steal it. *laughs* It got to the point where she was wearing that cap more often than he was.

Then, one day, he gave it to her. He said she could have it. And, he told me that he was going to send that cap to me. He said the cap was real and that he was going to send it to me. He�d worn it for ten years. He�d worn it through his divorce. He�d worn it through injury and pain and glory and to me that hat became a symbol.

I told myself that as soon as I got that hat, I would change my life. It would be the impetus for my return to real life. I told myself that as soon as I got that hat, I would begin, that day, walking outside. I would force myself to start walking to the end of the block and back. I would start acting more like a housewife than an abused dog stuck in a kennel. I promised myself that I would start acting human.

Duncan was pissed. He saw that I was preparing for something... for some transition, some change. He didn�t understand that. Hell, I didn�t understand it. I knew that I couldn�t continue living my life in this vat of liquid while my mind was the only thing active. I didn�t know how to change and I couldn�t find the power within myself. I tried. Damn, I tried so fucking hard.

Will power is not one of my strong suits.

So, I turned that hat into a motivation. I told myself that if Doug could make it through the shit that �should� have crippled him, I could too. The hat was going to be my reminder that all you have to do is keep moving. Somehow you just have to keep moving. You don�t have to go fast, but you have to keep moving. -- It�s like driving on the beach. When you feel yourself starting to bog down, the worst thing to do is stop. Slow down, sure, kick into a lower gear, sure, but don�t stop. The second you stop, you�re stuck.

Duncan was pissed off that I put more faith in that hat than I put in him. He didn�t use those exact words, but really close. I think he said something like, �That stupid hat means more to you than I do.� That wasn�t true. But the symbolism was lost on him. And I didn�t have the words to explain what the hat meant to me. If Duncan had given me something which he�d kept with him through shit, I would have put the same symbolism into that. *shrugs*

Regardless, on January 14th, 98 Duncan came home and had the envelope with the hat in it. He looked at me and said he was tempted to tell me it never came. He was tempted to just throw it away. I don�t think he will ever understand how wounding that was to me. With that simple admission of his, I realized that there was no way he would support me. I cried that night. I cried a lot. But not while he was watching. He tossed the envelope to me and stormed out of the room, going into the living room and turning on the TV.

Slowly I opened the envelope and held my breath. See, I didn�t actually believe that Doug would send me the hat. I knew it was important to him. I knew that he�d kept it and that it was really a very difficult thing for him to give it up. I didn�t think he would actually follow through. But when I took the hat out of the envelope two things happened.

First, I had a flash of disappointment. The hat wasn�t glowing. It wasn�t imbued with some magical power which would instantaneously transform me into the thing I�d always wanted to be. (whatever that may have been.) I got over that reaction pretty quickly, reminding myself that the hat itself was not the power, it was the reminder that whether I believed it or not, the power was within me.

The second thing that happened is that I felt trust. I was amazed by that and sat there, staring at the hat then the envelope for a while, alternately. A person who had never seen me before, never even seen a picture of me... someone who didn�t know me... he had made a promise and he kept it. I realized that I actually could believe in people again. And, though I didn�t understand it then, I realized that I could believe in myself again!

I put the hat on and amid gentle smile, I logged on, opened the Lair and waited for Doug to come on-line. When I saw his name pop up, I felt this kin-ship with him... an incredible bond. There was real and true friendship there. And, as corny as it sounds, I felt good having that symbol of my impending emancipation sitting comfortably on my head.

I felt competent. I felt like I would be able to do what was ahead of me. I felt like I had a second chance. I felt... good.

I logged off early that night. I figured that since Doug has fulfilled his promise to me, I had to keep my promise to myself. So, I logged off early. I closed down the office room and went in to bed. I sat down, got into bed and as I reached to take the hat off, Duncan scowled at me, grumbled and rolled away, turning to watch TV.

I felt slapped. I felt like my whole world had just been erased. I felt like the little bit of stability I had gained in the previous four hours had been completely wiped out. I set the hat on the bedside table. I closed my eyes. I curled up tightly with my teddy bear. I cried. Silent tears. Grief. Loss. Pain. For a long time.

The next morning I left with my Father because he had purchased a car at an auction and needed someone to drive it back for him. We made the nearly 5 hour drive from Long Beach to Salem. We spent the day checking out the car, taking care of business matters and finding out that the beast just didn�t run.

I was miserable. I was silent through most of the day. I wore the hat. I was a passenger in life once again. I felt my life slipping away. I felt my marriage in tattered pieces around my feet. I felt the weight of pain and sorrow and depression. I felt useless and helpless and... I don�t know. I held onto that hat a few times during the day. Just wore it because I needed to know I was connected to someone.

We stopped in Brooks, Oregon, a few miles North of Salem on I-5. We had dinner at a Subway there, refueled the pick up and then headed out again, on our five hour drive to home. It was dark and raining. It was January 15, 98. (maybe it was the 14th. I don�t remember exactly right now. I know I�ve said it in previous entries...)

We were on the overpass facing East, waiting for our turn to make the left-hand turn onto I-5 Northbound. A few cars made the turn. Dad was going between 15 and 20 mph. I saw a KenWorth semi coming up the hill toward us. Dad didn�t. I didn�t say anything. I saw it coming closer.

I saw bright daylight everywhere. The next thing I saw was the inside of an ambulance on the way from Salem to Seattle three or four days later.

The semi hit us in the right front, almost exactly on the corner of the truck. We were shoved backwards 80+ feet and shoved into the guard rail. Without the guardrail, we would have been facing North in the Southbound lanes of I-5 after having dropped from the overpass. And, the semi would probably have followed us over. It didn�t. We didn�t.

It took the EMTs and firemen and whomever else cutting off the cab in order to get me out. Dad said I was screaming. *shrugs* I don�t remember it. I don�t remember anything after seeing the semi as it was coming up the rise. I don�t remember the impact. I don�t remember the following three days. I remember a few snippets of time between the impact and the surgery a week later. I was in a coma-like state for nearly a week... Part of that was caused by the morphine. Part of that was caused by the impact.

the funny thing, to me, is that I saw it coming and didn�t say a word. I believe I had a death wish. I believe that I wanted to just die.

*shrugs*

Life has become so very interesting. My whole life changed after I got that hat. I still have it. I still wear it occasionally. It still means a lot to me. I wish I could meet up with Doug one of these days. I no longer have his accurate phone number or address. And, he doesn�t go on-line anymore. Anyone know a Doug Miller from PA? *laughs* Yeah, what are my chances?

Regardless... My life did change the day I got that hat. It was really bad at first. I felt a lot like my whole world had collapsed. The thing I realize now though, is that if I hadn�t had that tremendous starting point, I wouldn�t have changed. I had to fight my body to walk.

I had to force myself to walk, not because I wanted to lose weight, but because I refused to use a bedpan anymore. I forced myself to walk so that I didn�t get bedsores. I had to train my leg to move again. I had to force it sometimes. And I felt so damned, fucking weak at times.

Trust me, folks. There is nothing quite so humiliating as having to use a walker, and really use it, to get from the bed to the bathroom less than ten feet away.

The doctor told me that the only thing that saved my life is the fact that I was fat. Had I been slender, I would have been thrown from the truck. Gee, thanks. I owe my life to being almost 500 lbs. *chuckles*

As it is now, though, I have dropped about 150 of that. I can walk now. Not only can I walk, but I can, once again, wear high heeled shoes. *grins big* (you may wonder what a woman at nearly 6�1� needs with high heeled shoes... but trust me, I love em!) I don�t twist my ankle two or three times a month anymore. I can almost completely support my weight on the ball of my right foot. (something I couldn�t even contemplate a year ago)

I am healing. I am growing stronger with every single day that passes. And the depression? Gone. The feelings of waste, of being a liability, of being worthless and useless and empty? They�re all gone!

My life is getting better with each passing day.

And it�s not all because of a hat. But, in another six years, I�ll send that hat back to Doug, assuming I can find his address. And I will tell him that he has been in my thoughts on a daily basis. I�ll tell him that the hat is just a hat, but the symbol of self-empowerment was incredible and helpful.

I wore that hat through my surgery. I wore that hat through my physical therapy. My life is good. Because someone kept a promise to me when I needed it most. And that taught me to believe in myself. That was the basis of my own trust in me.

Thank you, Doug, for giving me the symbol which built the foundation. And thank you, Charles, for giving me the words to describe it. I didn�t make it through that shit because I believed in Doug. I didn�t make it through that because I trusted in a hat. I made it through because I trust me.

And, I will make it through everything else I have to face because I am worthy of such trust!

On Tiger�s Wings I Flew

PS I'll conclude this tomorrow.