Five years ago, I was in a car accident. My friend, Brandon, was visiting from Kentucky and he and I were going to head down to my hometown to go to church and spend time with my family. It was a hot Sunday morning in June, very dry, no genuine rain in weeks. Fun fact I've learned from growing up in Alabama is that when roads are continuously heated, oil from the asphalt rises up and sits on the road. (In other words, Alabama is so hot it makes the roads bleed.) As we were leaving my apartment, it started to rain a bit. As anyone who has taken basic physical science knows, water and oil don't mix, so when the roads are hot enough to bleed and it rains, the rain sits on top of the water. Less than a couple miles from my apartment, traveling on the interstate in three lanes of traffic, this was indeed the case. A powder-blue van hit a patch of oil and water and spun across all three lanes. I stomped the breaks, hands clutched to the steering wheel, the whole nine yards. A maroon older model Honda Civic was apparently following me too closely, as when I stopped, he slammed into my back bumper causing Brandon's Ale-8 drink spewing all over the car. Fortunately no one was hurt; my car bumper absorbed a vast majority of the impact, but the maroon Civic was completely totaled.
Months later, I was driving to class, on the same interstate, and a car stopped short behind me, as cars often do in morning traffic. I borderline panicked. It took me a few moments of breathing hard, shaking, crying, to realize that it felt so familiar from the Civic back in June. While I wasn't physically hurt in the accident, I hadn't realized at the time exactly how much it fried my nerves. Looking back now, I don't even remember if I saw the Civic rear-end me or just felt it; either way, I felt the same way- all the panic and fear when I was actually hit, back to haunt me in a completely safe situation.
In a seemingly unrelated tangent, I love the show Gene Simmons Family Jewels, a reality program about the famous rocker and his not-wife and two children. The newest season started this past week, and, apparently, things are at a boiling point for Gene and Shannon. In the first few minutes of the episode, Gene's at a business dinner with a few men and scantily-clad ladies, and Shannon and the children at home waiting for Gene to arrive. Later on, while getting ready for bed, Shannon receives a text message and then starts searching for something on the computer. It's not necessary to point out that I don't know these people; my life will not change and nothing will be different if their un-marriage doesn't work out. But sitting in front of my computer, safe and sound watching this tv clip, my stomach goes in knots, my heart races, the fear and dread well up inside me when Shannon pulls up a picture of Gene leaving the restaurant with the scantily-clad women on each arm.
Years ago, I was in a different kind of wreck. Just like knowing the oil and water on the road was trepidous, I knew that the boyfriend was up to something at least inappropriate. I don't know how I knew, other than I just did. I was rear-ended at 50 mph, however, by the instant messenger log (and subsequent pictures, facebook messages, texts, etc.) I found that confirmed that it was, officially, an Accident. The difference between that Sunday morning in June and that Thursday afternoon in February is that I was actually hurt the latter time. I was in an emotional full-body cast, with no cute little Sharpie signatures on my healing heart. Two years later, just watching someone on the screen makes me remember what it was like to have that car stop short behind me in traffic that morning. It wasn't my fiancee in that picture; that car didn't hit me. But it sure felt like it that first time someone came too close to my car again. Months after the wreck, I would get physically sick while trying to log on to his facebook account or looking through his phone while he slept. It still makes my heart race thinking about it, but it's not nearly as bad. I sit in my office now, safe, and loved, and nowhere near a car, much less an accident.
My little sisters were in a car accident a few months back, and my younger sister, whose car side was hit by another, told me a few weeks ago that she still jumps and panics when someone stops short on her side now. I told her I understood, and I did; I also told her that those feelings go away. It'll be a while; it was over a year before I wouldn't jump when someone came to close to my bumper. Now I barely notice. I don't panic looking at Bobby's phone; I don't worry when he doesn't answer the phone; I know the password to his facebook account. Every once in a while, I'm reminded of what it's like to be in that car accident again, but those once in a while's are fewer and far between. Some day they won't happen at all. I blame this on a fiancee who hides nothing, who never stops short behind me. I drive with my eyes closed, knowing that someday, seeing other people's car accidents won't take notice. I'm safe now- my own accidents be damned.
In a seemingly unrelated tangent, I love the show Gene Simmons Family Jewels, a reality program about the famous rocker and his not-wife and two children. The newest season started this past week, and, apparently, things are at a boiling point for Gene and Shannon. In the first few minutes of the episode, Gene's at a business dinner with a few men and scantily-clad ladies, and Shannon and the children at home waiting for Gene to arrive. Later on, while getting ready for bed, Shannon receives a text message and then starts searching for something on the computer. It's not necessary to point out that I don't know these people; my life will not change and nothing will be different if their un-marriage doesn't work out. But sitting in front of my computer, safe and sound watching this tv clip, my stomach goes in knots, my heart races, the fear and dread well up inside me when Shannon pulls up a picture of Gene leaving the restaurant with the scantily-clad women on each arm.
Years ago, I was in a different kind of wreck. Just like knowing the oil and water on the road was trepidous, I knew that the boyfriend was up to something at least inappropriate. I don't know how I knew, other than I just did. I was rear-ended at 50 mph, however, by the instant messenger log (and subsequent pictures, facebook messages, texts, etc.) I found that confirmed that it was, officially, an Accident. The difference between that Sunday morning in June and that Thursday afternoon in February is that I was actually hurt the latter time. I was in an emotional full-body cast, with no cute little Sharpie signatures on my healing heart. Two years later, just watching someone on the screen makes me remember what it was like to have that car stop short behind me in traffic that morning. It wasn't my fiancee in that picture; that car didn't hit me. But it sure felt like it that first time someone came too close to my car again. Months after the wreck, I would get physically sick while trying to log on to his facebook account or looking through his phone while he slept. It still makes my heart race thinking about it, but it's not nearly as bad. I sit in my office now, safe, and loved, and nowhere near a car, much less an accident.
My little sisters were in a car accident a few months back, and my younger sister, whose car side was hit by another, told me a few weeks ago that she still jumps and panics when someone stops short on her side now. I told her I understood, and I did; I also told her that those feelings go away. It'll be a while; it was over a year before I wouldn't jump when someone came to close to my bumper. Now I barely notice. I don't panic looking at Bobby's phone; I don't worry when he doesn't answer the phone; I know the password to his facebook account. Every once in a while, I'm reminded of what it's like to be in that car accident again, but those once in a while's are fewer and far between. Some day they won't happen at all. I blame this on a fiancee who hides nothing, who never stops short behind me. I drive with my eyes closed, knowing that someday, seeing other people's car accidents won't take notice. I'm safe now- my own accidents be damned.
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