Well, we're both alive -- that's worth celebrating.
On Thanksgiving, I managed to crash the Asher. He's totaled, I was told. I was also told it was a severe crash. My brother was the passenger. The roads were slick. I was driving 15 mph under the speed limit, which wasn't slow enough for me to keep us on the road. Forty miles per hour.
I can't help but keep thinking back to that moment.
It's s a dangerous place to go, because it makes me cry.
I keep crying
And I want to stop. I want life to be normal. I want it to be something that almost happened but didn't.
Can't life go on as normal? How much time to heal this one? Three days.. right? I'll be ok in three days.
Physically, I am really well off in regards to what my body was put through. Despite my gratefulness that my head is full in tact and I can still move my body how I want it to when I tell it to, gratefulness doesn't make the pain go away. I'm in pain. I don't know what's happening to my body. 20 hours of nausea (I think it's past). My back keeps feeling like someone is stabbing it. Random aches that aren't so random after the 15th time I move the wrong way. It could be worse, I know it could, but I still feel like my body was put inside a car that flipped a whole bunch.
Mentally, I don't know. I'm glad Doctor Adam prepped me for what, mentally, was going to take place. Highs and lows. He said my brain had a lot to work through and that it could take a while to heal. He used the phrase, "Near death" or "faced with death," and that thought alone makes me cry. Yeah. If the car had just slammed a bit different, who knows what the result would've been. How would I've done it differently? 30 miles per hour? The roads weren't that icey -- I had driven that stretch four other times in the past 24 hours. I don't know. I messed up. I screwed up. I crashed. I'm scared. I don't want to drive again.
I KNEW THIS WOULD HAPPEN.
I told people I couldn't drive because I would crash.
And I did.
And it was scary.
And I hate it.
And cars seem to do so much damage.
And I feel scared. I feel really scared.
I feel like hiding in my room.
But life goes on as normal. Absolutely normal. Nothing really changes.
I'm always in awe of how life never, never stops. No matter what happens, it keeps chugging along and there's no choice but to keep up with it.
I spent all day, yesterday, on the couch. Bless my little niece who would come over, time after time, and snuggle with me. After the crash, I kept running full speed with my brother, and when he left, it's like everything had built up and exploded and I felt exhausted. Today I spent all day cooped up in my room. I want to stay here. See, in here, I can cry whenever it passes. I don't want to cry out there -- I did that enough on Thanksgiving. I have to keep my thoughts in check. I don't want to talk about it but I do.
Wish someone could tell me what to do. What's best for my recovery? I think I want to go to the physical therapist and chiropractor in town, just to make sure I give myself the best foundation I can for recovering.
That moment of watching the road start to move out of order in front me -- the moment of realizing I couldn't do anything at all to fix it. Looking over at my brother thinking, "In ten seconds, this will be over and we'll be ok or we won't." I hated that moment of defeat -- it came so easily, bracing myself for the impact. Did we have to turn over and over? That moment of trying to reorient yourself in the car. Where is up? Where is Ian? "Are you ok?" "Yeah. Are you ok?" "Yeah."
And life picks up where you left it, minute by minute.
And it's cold.
And you're hoping someone comes soon.