It’s fascinating to me that we are able to live our lives without something we have lost and not feel the effects every second of every day. Of course a fresh wound is a different story, it requires a long recovery before even developing a scab, followed by it being ripped off at every sound, smell and place. A scar is the goal; the pain diminished, the permanent mark left on you for the rest of your life. What I’m referring to is years down the road when you have adjusted to the new normal without the piece of yourself long gone.
As documented here often, I can no longer drive. To quickly review: it was my thing, I would go anywhere, anytime, it was freedom, it was independence.
When Uber came to town I forced myself to appreciate it as a way to get out on my own without family and friends having to chauffeur me around. It’s not the same as sitting behind the wheel but I have learned that adapting is surviving.
Then one Friday this summer, a friend took me home after lunch. She told me she was going away for the weekend to the beach, she says she needs a break, she needs to get away and relax. I don’t say anything but I am immediately angry. Not at her but my circumstances. I had had a difficult week too and I would have loved to get away. Not to the ocean, which will never be the same for me again since my beach buddy, my mom, died, but to just get in my car and drive.
Anywhere.
Nowhere.
And with the start of her ignition as she drove away, I crashed.
Without a seat belt.
Without air bags.
It hurt like hell.
Had this been an actual auto accident, it would have sent me to the emergency room for sure.
As I struggled all weekend to heal, I wondered about our day-to-day ability to go on without being t-boned by the violent impact of a prior loss. On this particular afternoon I could not swerve quickly enough. It was a hit and run but truth be told yI am consistently run over by words said innocently. Most days I walk away without a scratch. Why do our psychological bumpers protect us most of the time and then one day, “BAM!”
I miss driving. Every day. But that day my inability to do so crushed me. I don’t know why. I never saw it coming. Call NASCAR. I may not be able to drive but that is what you call coming full circle.
