Living Angels: Out of the Darkness

A personal essay by Katie Mortensen

Who could have known that being in the darkest darkness could bring the lightest light?

“Walk while ye have the light, lest darkness come upon you.”

--John Ruskin

Lying there, silenced, without feeling, and surrounded by darkness, I felt more peace than I ever had before. Just a short few months previous, I found myself in a place of figurative darkness. Alone, silenced, and desperately seeking for some sort of light, there was nowhere to turn. Or so it seemed. My parents did what they felt was best for us and moved us out of our childhood home and onto a small farm. They wanted to teach us the value of working hard. Honestly, I felt like they were ruining my life. Just fourteen years old and forced into becoming an adult because people in the area had their own cliques and I didn’t fit into any of them. I was still a child in their eyes, not allowed to have an opinion or make decisions. Forced to succumb to the choices of those around me but I was the one to deal with the consequences. 

Surrounded By Darkness

I never really was one to be “normal.” I didn’t fit in with the girls because I hated shopping or dressing up. I tried to fit in with the boys, but I was too small and not athletic enough. Every avenue I turned down seemed to be a dead end. I was walking through the night with no direction, no street lights, no idea of where I was going. Wandering. Lost. Searching for something, just not sure what. What was I supposed to do? I didn’t know how to cope. I didn’t have the tools necessary to find the light.

I joined the Boy Scouts of America Venturing Program in the only all girls crew in Arizona. I finally found a place where I belonged. Others who thought and dealt like I did. I had friends, confidants, sisters. I knew that someone cared. We went on a high adventure trip to Bloomington Cave in Southern Utah. I was selected as the lead rappeller, meaning all of my rope would be in a bag and I would help everyone else from the bottom. I went through the routine I had gone through a million times before. Tie a figure eight. Tighten all straps. Helmet. Headlamp. Double check knots. Feet over edge. Lower body perpendicular to mountain. Walk down cliff. Everything seemed to be just fine. All of a sudden, my brake hand was empty. Time seemed to slow down as the rope just ended. 

Gravity continued to pull my body towards the earth while the rope hung dangling just above me out of reach. It was in that brief moment that I knew it would all be over soon. As I continued to fall, all I could think was, “I’ll see you in the next life.” And that was okay. I was okay. What seemed like an eternity later, I felt my body hit the bottom of the cave although it was almost an out of body experience. I lay silent on the floor, unable to move, and no light since I had shattered my headlamp on the way down. 

Laying in darkness provides a lot of room for thought and contemplation. I tried to compare it to the darkness I thought I felt previously that year, but it was nothing the same. The darkness previous was suffocating, overwhelming, crushing, inescapable, but this darkness felt light. I had found my angels. These girls had made me feel light again. They had turned my life around. This darkness was not the same. Not something I feared. The darkness allowed me to thank God for these angels who had helped me find a place. If this was the end, everything would be okay. 

Something New

Fast forward to just under a year later. Constant pain, disgusting scars, and never knowing if I would truly be the same again, I found myself back in that figurative, crushing darkness. I was trying to keep myself hidden from the world. I couldn’t walk normal, I now had a noticeable limp. Playing tennis was my passion, but now every cut and turn caused agonizing pain and seriously impaired my play. I could no longer keep up on the team runs, speed drills were too difficult, and I found myself losing all hope that I would ever play a real match again. 

The doctors said they couldn’t do anything. I could take pain meds if I wanted to, but this would be an issue I would have for the rest of my life. How is a 16 year old athlete supposed to go on like this? I didn’t want the stares in the hallway or the unnecessary sympathy that came. “Oh honey, I’m so sorry. It will all be okay in the end.” Oh really? Do you know what it’s like to watch all the “normalcy” of your teenage years be stripped away constantly? Have you ever felt like you’ve finally found your place just to be ripped right out of your hands time and time again? Please don’t “Oh honey” me. I just want to be “normal” again. 

Searching for some way to find that peace, I had to suck up my pride and go ask for help one more time. A family friend was a physical therapist specializing in athlete recovery. All I wanted was some glimmer of hope that I could play again. After a long and painful evaluation, he said that I would have this the rest of my life. My heart dropped. I couldn’t believe that this was to be my fate. However, there was some work that I could put in to decrease the pain, and decrease the limp so that I might be able to play at a normal level again. Little did I know how much it was actually going to take. 

Three days a week in physical therapy, and five days with the athletic trainer, 90 percent of the time I would leave in tears because of how painful it was. But, despite all of the pain, I could feel the difference it was making. I still had a limp, but I had more confidence than I ever had before. I started weight lifting with the athletic trainer, and found that my body was capable of handling more than I thought it could. He became my coach, and helped me reach my full potential. 

Just a few short months later, I wasn’t playing tennis anymore, but I had found a new place. I was spending six to ten hours everyday in the training room, on the field, or in the weights room. I was side by side with my new best friend. I loved athletic training. Friday night lights, courtside seats, feeling like I had a purpose, it was all worth the pain in the end. I no longer felt alone. I had another team by my side. It was through our experiences that we made each other stronger. 

I wasn’t left on the cave floor anymore wondering if this would be the end for me. I wasn’t alone in the darkness contemplating if I was proud of my life or if my life was meaningful enough. I had found the light.