It happened just a year after the car accident. I had started my wonderful new job in Clearwater and it was a super normal day. We worked in a commercial business office building downtown and that particular warm summer day there was a fire drill. Down some 8 flights of stairs myself and the one other female in the office that day, grabbed purses in case and vacated.
All the smokers huddled in one area, and everyone that worked in the building was down outside the office. That's when it happened. I saw him. I saw the guy that hit us with his red Ford F-150, totaled our car and put my kid in a wheelchair for a summer. I saw him for the first time since that day.
It actually happened like they portray in the movies. I saw him and was like "Where do I recognize him from," and saw a flash of passing him in the hall at a church we tried for a few months, but then saw him from that day and had a violent flashback. I could hear my heartbeat just like in a movie, but the rest of my hearing became faint as I went back to that day, me sitting bloody on an embankment, a security guard that stopped holding my daughter as she wined and her legs started to get purple, my husband's head bleeding and completely disoriented sitting beside me and then I saw him crouched down near me apologizing and swearing and freaking out.
Now when I replay it I feel like I was missing that music from Kill Bill when she remembers everyone standing over her and you hear the sirens and old music indicating the enemy she revisits. That was me.
It honestly took my breath away and I could feel my face change in the horror of realization. I gathered myself a bit and had an impulse to go talk to him but something stopped me. I text and messaged some friends about the incident and everyone responded the same, "OMG ARE YOU OKAY?" It hadn't dawned on me how traumatic it was until later.
Later I realized I hadn't gone up to him because I was afraid he wouldn't remember us, which would piss me off, no infuriate me more likely. Part of me wanted to go up and tell him that although he knocked us down a few pegs, that he should know we're okay and that especially my daughter had recovered. But if he somehow didn't remember, it would bring out the kind of mama bear that might actually harm him, or try. I wanted to scream at him how he better have learned to be a better driver, and that I hope he had nightmares about that day, but it would have served no purpose.
It was a surreal moment. Sometimes it still haunts me. Just the way I flashed back was so intense and real. When you watch movies like that, you think it's an over-dramatization but for me it was anything but. I felt such a weird rush too, like I was back in that moment on that day I had to breathe deeply and reboot.
It's rare that I have those kind of flashbacks but my PTSD is still incredibly real. It's not something that just goes away. Sometimes it sucks having to be the memory of that accident for everyone. Although the people who visited the hospital have their own memories of seeing us too, but for my husband and daughter I remember it all.
I remember there were no screeching brakes or warning signals. I remember the broken glass, the shatter sound and the airbags. I remember that faint humming from right after the impact and my immediately coming to, hulk-mama style ready to check on my baby. She was unconscious from the impact a minute and so was my husband.
I remember not being able to open my car door being the scariest. I remember screaming for help and wanting my baby out of that car and yelling at Eben to get it together. My most recent flashback to the day was last year. My husband and I were in a rental car driving in California and ended up behind a Volkswagen, the very same model of the one we were behind when we got hit and for whatever reason he said the exact same thing he said to me a mere two minutes before impact. He said "What kind of Volvo is that even? That thing looks ridiculous."
When we were driving in California and he said that, with me in the passenger seat and him driving, even though my daughter wasn't there I looked at him annoyed like he was playing a joke and referencing the day. Then the flashback wave came over me and full panic attack began. I said, "Oh my God get away from that car!" I bent myself over in the car trying to catch a breath. I yelled at him, "You don't remember? How do you not remember? That was the fucking car! THAT WAS THE SAME KIND OF CAR AND WE SAID THE SAME THING!"
My husband helped calm me and reminded me he had no idea. I told him that right before we got hit we had some disagreement, some stupid disagreement and he broke the tension with a joke about the Volvo in front of us, the same one we just passed two years later, in California of all places. Also, I swear when I'm stressed, sorry not sorry.
It's rare I talk about this stuff because people act as though I'm making it worse than it was. Few people have a gauge for what trauma like that does to a person so I keep a lot of the residual effects to myself and try to use everything in my coping tool box to keep me going.
I try my best not to impose excess anxiety upon these days but be aware and grateful. Whenever my daughter wants to talk about it, we talk about it as long as she wants because I want her to feel safe with telling me things about anything always. When asked about it I don't shy away, but in general you won't find me open up the discussion.
This is the first year I don't feel the full weight of it. I don't feel like we're still submersed in the wreckage, which makes me happier about it. For that, among everything else I'm grateful. I hope I never run into that bad driver again, but I leave most things up to the universe in retrospect. With that, I'm ready to see what this Tuesday has to offer!
Showing posts with label Car Accident. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Car Accident. Show all posts
Tuesday, June 11, 2019
Monday, June 10, 2019
Week Of Anniversaries - Some Better Than Others
So, Thursday marks a decade since I graduated college. Friday marks a decade of marriage. Saturday marks a decade since we left Oregon to start our journey to Florida, and 3 years since the car accident. The car accident anniversary is murky; everything else is good, happy milestones.
Graduating college was a trip. It was something else and it was definitely overshadowed by the wedding, but I kind of liked it that way. My college stuff was rough. I still have some resentment because I literally found out my last semester that I was in the completely wrong program for what I actually wanted to do with my life. But, we continue.
If you look at our wedding now, it was unimpressive. To us, it was this huge send off into life together and literally everyone pitched in. The dads split the venue, my sister helped with the cake, my other sister bought a bunch of wine, my dad did the ceremony and helped with my dress, too. We did a lot on our own. My husband catered it with a friend and his mom bought the supplies. Our friend brought a PA system and I made a playlist on my iPod he played. The boy I nanny-ed for all those year played songs on guitar too. Everyone had a blast.
It was after that we moved away and started a life that was just ours. We've struggled a lot. Our past handful of anniversaries have been less fantastic. For our first anniversary we went to St. Augustine and had a blast. After that, with the exception of a quick overnight when in Pennsylvania we have been with the little one and just tried to grab a dinner.
This weekend is a night away about 90 minutes away from home and I'm ridiculously excited honestly. It's been a long time since we wanted to make the effort to spend time together. Last year we stole 3 days together, not anniversary related but we barely even have a date night anymore so this is kind of a big deal.
We will be driving on the car accident anniversary, which makes me a bit nervous, but I love being further and further away from that day. My daughter talks about it a lot. She isn't afraid to discuss it at all, and I always answer her questions and tell her how it was because she only remembers bits and pieces. Even my husband has a rough time remembering.
It's so weird thinking about all of this. A decade being married, a decade of no longer being a student and fully a part of the working world, and 3 years far from that horrible day. All in the span of 3 days.
This is the first year in a long time none of it has plagued me, I'm not just feeling completely weighed down. I want a one night break. I want to just enjoy each other. I don't want to be afraid to drive.
My best friend told me that marriage is made up of a lot of bad years and her husband always says he wants to get those over with so they can just make it to the good. I wholeheartedly agree. And this is the first time in a long time that I've felt like maybe year 10 could be a wholehearted good one.
Graduating college was a trip. It was something else and it was definitely overshadowed by the wedding, but I kind of liked it that way. My college stuff was rough. I still have some resentment because I literally found out my last semester that I was in the completely wrong program for what I actually wanted to do with my life. But, we continue.
If you look at our wedding now, it was unimpressive. To us, it was this huge send off into life together and literally everyone pitched in. The dads split the venue, my sister helped with the cake, my other sister bought a bunch of wine, my dad did the ceremony and helped with my dress, too. We did a lot on our own. My husband catered it with a friend and his mom bought the supplies. Our friend brought a PA system and I made a playlist on my iPod he played. The boy I nanny-ed for all those year played songs on guitar too. Everyone had a blast.
It was after that we moved away and started a life that was just ours. We've struggled a lot. Our past handful of anniversaries have been less fantastic. For our first anniversary we went to St. Augustine and had a blast. After that, with the exception of a quick overnight when in Pennsylvania we have been with the little one and just tried to grab a dinner.
This weekend is a night away about 90 minutes away from home and I'm ridiculously excited honestly. It's been a long time since we wanted to make the effort to spend time together. Last year we stole 3 days together, not anniversary related but we barely even have a date night anymore so this is kind of a big deal.
We will be driving on the car accident anniversary, which makes me a bit nervous, but I love being further and further away from that day. My daughter talks about it a lot. She isn't afraid to discuss it at all, and I always answer her questions and tell her how it was because she only remembers bits and pieces. Even my husband has a rough time remembering.
It's so weird thinking about all of this. A decade being married, a decade of no longer being a student and fully a part of the working world, and 3 years far from that horrible day. All in the span of 3 days.
This is the first year in a long time none of it has plagued me, I'm not just feeling completely weighed down. I want a one night break. I want to just enjoy each other. I don't want to be afraid to drive.
My best friend told me that marriage is made up of a lot of bad years and her husband always says he wants to get those over with so they can just make it to the good. I wholeheartedly agree. And this is the first time in a long time that I've felt like maybe year 10 could be a wholehearted good one.
Thursday, April 11, 2019
The Two Tattoos
We are a few months away from the 3 year anniversary of the car accident and I love leaving it further and further behind. We all have physical scars, but I took some of mine to the very next level and today I'm going to tell the story and truths behind those scars.
Our wonderful lawyer kept us out of the courtroom for our whole car accident litigation. It was a rough learning experience for me and really overwhelming on top of my kid in a wheelchair and busted up husband in pain. I had head staples and bruises, but no other physical injuries that were extensive enough to claim much of anything, and when we had the mediation, I'll never forget the other lawyer, condescendingly coming to tell me the worst of the news.
My husband and daughter were well taken care of. Besides the head staples and bruises, I walked away with an epic case of PTSD that to this day still comes at me sometimes, but that's not much cause for any part in litigation. When they started talking about the division of funds and hospital bills coverage the other lawyer said, "Well, you didn't really have extensive enough injuries, nor did you have a real hospital stay for you to be awarded much for the case."
I had to hold my tongue until he left the room and then whispered to my husband, "I'm sorry, you're not damaged enough? Is that what he just said?" My husband just did his calm down quelling and sighed at me. My anger and anxieties flared into a momentary frenzy of, "Yeah she was left with a kid in a wheelchair and a husband in constant pain needing shoulder surgery and all the stress of everything else, having to re-potty train her kid, cleaning, getting her daughter in and out of the wheelchair, getting up to give her more tylenol for her broken legs because her husband's broken ribs wouldn't allow him to physically help, and I almost got out in the middle of highway 19 a week after the car accident in a traumatic panic attack being near the scene, I have nightmares, but sure it's all fine right!?? YOU'RE NOT DAMAGED ENOUGH!???"
I sighed feeling defeated but signed away all the things just wanting to be done with everything. We later had a one on one with a judge after my daughter's second surgery, the drama having spanned almost 8 months, and I just wanted it to be over and done.
It was in the midst of all of this and all the mayhem that I reconnected with my music. As ridiculous as this may sound, it was Hanson that completely saved me when I revisited their album, "Underneath." I've found that, especially since the car accident, too many of my favorite bands and artists songs, have completely new, and relevant meaning in current time frames and I've intensely embraced them. We'll come back to this part later.
Still being angry that I was somehow made to be inferior in comparison and unscathed from the accident, I decided, "Oh, I'll show you some pain from the accident alright. I can take the pain."
I'm not sure what about me sends the message of "Wuss," but I can physically handle more than most people think I can. In fact the only time I think I deserve "wuss" status is anywhere near a snake, not joking, I am insanely, panic-attack-worthy, terrified of snakes. Anything non-snakey, I am a boss.
I actually have a higher tolerance for pain, it's a redhead thing I guess. I pushed out my child with no drugs, yes, a completely natural birth. I've hurt myself often and power through, although have never had a broken bone, just sprains. My back tattoo hurt a lot when I was 18, but I didn't cry or complain. With this in mind, that's where I went, back to the tattoo parlor to get a dose of pain.
The first tattoo I got was kind of a 3-fer. In the wake of the accident I'd really begun to embrace and discuss my depression and anxiety. Mental health stuff was becoming more "normalized" and I was on board with all of that. I think most people were waiting for me to have a meltdown anyway. During this time also, the semicolon movement was gaining traction:
So finally I had all the pieces of the puzzle for my next tattoo and I had the artist working on all my ideas. When she finally got it together it came out like this:
Our wonderful lawyer kept us out of the courtroom for our whole car accident litigation. It was a rough learning experience for me and really overwhelming on top of my kid in a wheelchair and busted up husband in pain. I had head staples and bruises, but no other physical injuries that were extensive enough to claim much of anything, and when we had the mediation, I'll never forget the other lawyer, condescendingly coming to tell me the worst of the news.
My husband and daughter were well taken care of. Besides the head staples and bruises, I walked away with an epic case of PTSD that to this day still comes at me sometimes, but that's not much cause for any part in litigation. When they started talking about the division of funds and hospital bills coverage the other lawyer said, "Well, you didn't really have extensive enough injuries, nor did you have a real hospital stay for you to be awarded much for the case."
I had to hold my tongue until he left the room and then whispered to my husband, "I'm sorry, you're not damaged enough? Is that what he just said?" My husband just did his calm down quelling and sighed at me. My anger and anxieties flared into a momentary frenzy of, "Yeah she was left with a kid in a wheelchair and a husband in constant pain needing shoulder surgery and all the stress of everything else, having to re-potty train her kid, cleaning, getting her daughter in and out of the wheelchair, getting up to give her more tylenol for her broken legs because her husband's broken ribs wouldn't allow him to physically help, and I almost got out in the middle of highway 19 a week after the car accident in a traumatic panic attack being near the scene, I have nightmares, but sure it's all fine right!?? YOU'RE NOT DAMAGED ENOUGH!???"
I sighed feeling defeated but signed away all the things just wanting to be done with everything. We later had a one on one with a judge after my daughter's second surgery, the drama having spanned almost 8 months, and I just wanted it to be over and done.
It was in the midst of all of this and all the mayhem that I reconnected with my music. As ridiculous as this may sound, it was Hanson that completely saved me when I revisited their album, "Underneath." I've found that, especially since the car accident, too many of my favorite bands and artists songs, have completely new, and relevant meaning in current time frames and I've intensely embraced them. We'll come back to this part later.
Still being angry that I was somehow made to be inferior in comparison and unscathed from the accident, I decided, "Oh, I'll show you some pain from the accident alright. I can take the pain."
I'm not sure what about me sends the message of "Wuss," but I can physically handle more than most people think I can. In fact the only time I think I deserve "wuss" status is anywhere near a snake, not joking, I am insanely, panic-attack-worthy, terrified of snakes. Anything non-snakey, I am a boss.
I actually have a higher tolerance for pain, it's a redhead thing I guess. I pushed out my child with no drugs, yes, a completely natural birth. I've hurt myself often and power through, although have never had a broken bone, just sprains. My back tattoo hurt a lot when I was 18, but I didn't cry or complain. With this in mind, that's where I went, back to the tattoo parlor to get a dose of pain.
The first tattoo I got was kind of a 3-fer. In the wake of the accident I'd really begun to embrace and discuss my depression and anxiety. Mental health stuff was becoming more "normalized" and I was on board with all of that. I think most people were waiting for me to have a meltdown anyway. During this time also, the semicolon movement was gaining traction:
When I found this, it touched me and I felt really connected to it from every walk of my life. I'd struggled with depression, anxiety, suicidal thoughts in my youth and now PTSD so many reasons why I would relate. I started looking at tattoo designs. For Project Semicolon or the semicolon movement the hook was "My story isn't over yet." So yeah, I could claim I was a writer, but if you know me, you know I could never survive this life without my music.
Ironically, I failed at all of my lessons besides voice lessons, so I never played music successfully, only sang. But I am the most music-obsessed, avid concert-goer, you will ever meet. The closest to a pure spiritual experience I have every had, would be in the presence of live music.
So a friend of a friend had a friend of a friend who's dad owned a tattoo studio super close by with great prices and she helped me come up with this:
Behind my ear, this was my treble clef semi-colon design to say, "My song wasn't over yet." As a 3-fer it was, music related, trauma related, and supported mental health awareness. It was cute, simple and affordable. All of my tattoos embody one rule: make sure it very much cover-up-able. When I was still working at the dealership, this was a very important rule. Getting this tattoo was the first of three that I would get in the next year, but the first in my important music-themed healing process.
Once I had this little one, I wanted more and bigger! I'd done that thing that 18 year old people do and gotten my first tattoo on my lower hip-tummy area at age 18, maybe even the day of. It was a super nerdy Lord of the Rings related tattoo; yeah I know. I can feel the laughs and eye rolls. Anywho, it was pretty silly so I decided I wanted to get it covered by my next one.
Back to my Hanson re-kindling of a love affair; I've outed myself as a legit Hanson fan before. I have NO shame about this. Listen to their entire catalog because they are amazing musicians and songwriters, and you can't argue that, I'll win, trust me. When I am in my darkest places, I always go back to Hanson, and they always clear the clouds above me and remind me of what I need to push through.
I'd been repeating the same few songs with them post-accident including many off of their 2004 release, "Underneath." Somehow I kept revisiting mostly just tracks from this one and I remembered the awesome album pamphlet containing this:
The first song on the album is called "Strong Enough to Break," and the lyrics are:
It soon became my theme song. Over and over, "I start feeling strong enough to break! Things keep coming and I keep stumbling..." Over and over. Then I would turn on the title track, "Underneath," over and over:
It was like they were singing to just me, about just me, but not in the romanticized way from my childhood. It was as if they were saying, "Hey, you've been through a lot and you're still going. You got this!" Lastly from Hanson's 2007 album, The Walk, came the final inspiration from, "Been There Before."
This song is about their experiences with other songs and their familiarity. The chorus sings:
Tell me does it move you
This tattoo is now over my old one and right on my tummy-hip area and it hurt, badly. Somehow after the accident I just thought that I need to prove that I really was hurt too, even if it wasn't on medical records. I'm sure that's some text book psychology shit right there, but one Thursday evening, with a new YouTube-uploaded Hanson song repeating over and over, I got inked.
I kept singing internally and playing this song on my phone, repeatedly when it hurt. Even my tattoo artist was like, "You are a brave lady, this spot really really hurts." The next morning working out and at work was ouchie, to say the least but I love this tattoo so much.
It's not in a spot people really get to see, which is kind of another reason why I like it. It's just for me, and something to keep my healing process real. From time to time when people see it they are like..."Do I know that song?" And I'm always like, "Uh, maybe?"
For my best friend when I got this she was so in love with it and proud of me because I put myself through some pain to inevitably heal the pain from the whole experience. But also, we love Hanson together so, she was pretty impressed I think, haha. When I can't get through it I DO listen to it. When I'm at my worst, I am making playlists and over-playing songs that help me make sense of things.
Music has always been my rock. Every era of my life has a distinct soundtrack and these two tattoos are the reminders I literally carry with me as a whole part of me that I chose. I know some people are like, "Hanson, seriously?" But I could share my whole Hanson fan-ship story and blow you all away because, if you know me, the Hanson tattoo wouldn't be surprising or weird, in fact it was overdue.
I love these two tattoos because I think they are almost kinds of war wounds from everything but they are also so awesomely Alison, which is something I struggle with. I very much struggle with embracing everything about myself, and these "inkings" are visible reminders of all that is me. Do yourself a favor and get at least one tattoo in your life, if you can stop there, that is, and listen to Hanson immediately. For some of you, one may be more painful than the other!
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