Journey to Nicaragua

Words and Pics by Natasha Lazdins

Once upon a time I was a little girl with Big Dreams. I promised myself I’d make my dreams a reality one day - I imagined travelling to the places the educational system never taught; the experience of self, through worlds unseen by the eyes and languages unspoken. No fixed compass, no one direction, never complete, yet whole. I wanted to feel free in the exploration of falling in love with everything and everyone.

I believed the nature of life should be valued immensely, exploring all depths and dimensions; never changing the framework of my reality, but coming into realisation of experiencing myself as an individual.

I could feel an internal riptide pulling my spirit towards where the jungle edge meets the blue sea. But can anyone just pack up and move their entire life across the other side of the world like that? It takes something different, a certain type of strength, and surrender. It seemed crazy yet inspiring. I worked a seemingly ‘successful’ job, but believed maybe I could find someplace where money didn’t matter, where the jungle was life, living simply on fundamentals and depth of the natural surroundings.

In April 2007, I packed my bags and quit my job. I had to be my own best friend and support my decision. I had to choose to trust in myself, rather than listen to society’s impressions. Knowing whatever I chose to do, I would share my greatness in all the places that I would go. The world was mine to wander and I knew that, as long as I was living my truth, with ‘what felt right’ in my heart, everything would always work out for the better; and I would discover all that unknown beauty along the way.

Yet, it has not been an easy road.

I had been travelling through Europe for three months with three attempts to get into Croatia but never getting there. The morning of my planned flight, I misplaced my passport, missed my flight and almost missed my island hopping adventure. I did not realise at the time that the universe was trying to intervene – trying to stop me! Rather than listen, I pushed through the stoppages to ensure I landed where ‘I wanted to be’ so I could continue my adventures in Croatia.

Dubrovnik is a city in southern Croatia fronting the Adriatic Sea. It’s known for its distinctive Old Town and its cliffs are perfect for cliff diving. The cliff jump was approximately 16 metres and the feeling of exhilaration as I jumped was wonderful. This feeling quickly turned to one of horror as my body slammed into what felt like a slab of concrete. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t feel my body. Floating with death as if life wasn’t simply enough, I asked, “What the f@#k have I done to myself?”

It was July 16th, 2007 and it was only 24 hours after landing in Croatia. Basic intelligence is knowing that suffering can be a consequence of ignorance. If only I’d listened to my gut feeling and the universe.

Within 24 hours, I went from wild and free to being tied to a plank of wood for a 12-hour boat ride, semiconscious, in excruciating pain and was eventually hospitalised. I had snapped my spine. I could feel the crunch in my smashed vertebrae, nothing was aligned. Or was it?

“I could feel the crunch in my smashed vertebrae, nothing was aligned.”

Destiny had her way and I was a playing it out. A heartbeat away from death, morphine shots, fits and screams of agonising pain in a third world hospital. I was whipped from bed to bed, no English speakers anywhere, 90 degree heat, and in one filthy stench of a medical facility. I was paralysed from the waist down, so senseless.

I was hospitalized for three weeks and sent away with two surgical plates and eight screws dangerously placed just 2mm from my heart artery. My L1 and L2 vertebrae were crushed apart, which inflicted serious nerve damage from the waist down and from that moment on, my body was in serious trouble and I felt lost.

One month later, after a coordinated first-class flight sorted by my insurance company, I arrived home in Australia. The next year followed further facilitations and due to my paralysis, I was wheelchair bound for 10 months, and braced from my underarm to hip.

“What the f@#k have I done to myself?”

Friends and family were my caretakers, my second set of legs, from any movement, to intense physio and all the daily bathroom and normal living routines. Whilst I honoured and appreciated them for doing this for me, my patience was wearing thin and I put an intense focus on healing.