Our founder's story
Our founder's story
The accident
It was a routine Friday early evening. I was on my way to pick up supplies for my family business, the rhythm of life ticking along as usual. At a traffic light, I paused, waiting for the green light. The roads were quiet, my car was waiting solitarily. It was an ordinary moment, suspended in the usual humdrum of life.
Then, in a heartbeat, the world shattered. A deafening noise, a flash of chaos, and darkness swallowed me whole. When I regained consciousness, the world was tainted by a harsh and biting scent of burning plastic. Another vehicle had crashed into mine.
The pain begins
The aftermath was a surreal labyrinth of pain. Each bone in my body screamed, echoing the shockwaves of the collision. The simplest of tasks, like turning in bed, demands great amount of endurance and courage. Painkillers, became faithful companions, offered timed relief, periodically taming the physical agony. But there was a more insidious torment that no pill could quell: the erosion of my memory and identity built upon life experiences.
What defines us and our identities?
Life, in its essence, is an ever-evolving gallery, curated by the silent hands of time. It is a vivid tableau of emotions, constantly in flux under the relentless brushstrokes of age. On this living canvas, we embody the spectrum of human emotions, encapsulating a rich panorama of existence.
In radiant moments of joy, we paint with vibrant hues of happiness, crafting radiant memories against the backdrop of time. Yet, to counterbalance, we blend in the deeper tones of sorrow and sadness, shaping the profound depth and complexity of our shared journey.
Throughout this diverse landscape of emotions, we embrace a multitude of roles, each a unique pattern, an individual thread in the rich tapestry of life. As the artisan of our destiny, our existence is not a monochrome sketch, but a vibrant palette of experiences, unfolding gracefully through the passage of time, enriching the unique masterpiece that we call life.
The emotional experience
Post the incident, the courage to traverse the very junction where fate had played its cruel hand eluded me. The mere contemplation of it stirs within me a tempest of unease and kindles the embers of discomfort. With my memory stood fragmented, akin to a treasured piece of art with missing pieces. Faces that were once pillars of my memory—my grandparents, my uncles—had been wiped from the canvas of my mind. Some felt like abstract forms, their existence resigned to oral narratives recited by others. Companions transformed into anonymous silhouettes, our shared experiences and jovial moments engulfed by a vast, impenetrable abyss. An array of contacts in my digital directory had become cryptic symbols, causing tremors of alienation.
The torment wasn’t in knowing what was lost, but rather in grappling with the elusive waltz of forgotten memories. A creeping disquiet surfaced, an affliction too complex for any digital solution or algorithmic aid: the splintering of my memory. Why some memories clung to the mental easel while others faded into oblivion remained a mystery, a riddle even for the best neurologists. My existence had turned into an empty amphora, bereft of the personal history that once gave it shape and meaning.
The recovery
The canvas of my recovery was painstakingly painted over the course of eight long months. A myriad of healing methods lent their touch to gradually soothe the harsh physical pain etched into my being. Yet the emotional landscape remained a turbulent storm, a complex whirl of confusion, loss, and depression that endured for nearly double the time. I found myself adrift on a sea of uncertainty, unable to grasp the cruel hand fate had dealt me.
But just as the most dramatic sunsets yield to the calm of twilight, the pain, too, began to wane. With the passing of time, the sharp sting of my wounds dulled into a faint ache, their presence a mere undertone on the tapestry of my existence. I reoriented my perspective, redefined my path, reshaping my life and my goals. I chose to chase the dreams that had once lingered on the periphery, dreams I’d felt were out of my grasp due to lack of time and resources. Reflecting upon my journey, I feel lucky and am with a sense of gratitude for navigating the tempest and finding my shore. I am acutely aware that many other souls are still caught in the whirlwind of hardship, yearning for help to illuminate their path out of torment.
Pursuing this new course, I managed to get in my dream institution – an Ivy League to further my development. I was aware of the hurdles that lay ahead. My fractured memory and the increased age difference between me and my peers were clear disadvantages. However, I was prepared to work double, triple if need be.
Unbeknownst to me, within the hallowed halls of this institution, a new chapter was awaiting me. A beautiful neurologist entered my life, enriching the canvas with hues of love and companionship. Five years post the accident, we were united in matrimony and blessed with our first child.
Though the shadows of the accident still linger, the pain remembered vividly, I have come to see it as a masterstroke in the grand painting of my life. It has taught me that sometimes, certain events unfold for reasons beyond our immediate understanding. They may appear as trials, but we must trust in the intricate design of life and maintain our faith. Remain positive, and the portrait of life might reveal a hidden beauty in the most unexpected corners. With a kernel of hope and any assistance we can gather, it is our hope that one might find the potential to weave a life that mirrors the true worth they hold within, bringing their existence closer to the abundance they rightly deserve.