Last September, I was involved in a car accident that flipped my car and my world upside down.
Nearly a year later, I had to face the fact that the effects of the accident were still wreaking havoc on my mental and physical health.
Here is what happened and how I’m healing from the trauma.
My husband, Tyler, and I woke up in our hotel room in the Twin Cities. We had both been in separate weddings the evening prior and were anxious to get back home to see our daughter. After a late night, we were up early and on the road.
We drove separately, but took turns leading and following each other. After over an hour in the car, I needed a bathroom break and coffee. Tyler continued on.
With my coffee in hand and my playlist on, I hopped back on the Interstate.
The Accident
I was coming around a curve, driving in the left lane. I felt the rumble strip. Thinking I was nearing the deep grassy ditch, I jerked the wheel, trying to correct myself.
Unfortunately, I pulled too hard and fought to steer my vehicle. Zig-zagging back and forth across both lanes, I had zero control. It was a surreal and incredibly terrifying feeling.
As quickly as my fight to control my vehicle began, it came to a crashing halt. My vehicle plunged toward the ditch between both sides of the Interstate. And I knew my fate was no longer in my hands.
I didn’t see my life flash before my eyes, but visions of my daughter lingered in my mind. The last thing I remember was hoping I would make it through this.
Then I was airborne. My car was rolling over and over, my belongings flying everywhere.
Solid Ground
Finally, I came to a stop upside down, hanging from the seat belt that likely saved my life. And I began to panic.
What should I do? How do I get out of this vehicle? Am I okay?
My car was asking me if it should call 911. I screamed, “Yes!” but it didn’t respond. I tried to locate my cellphone, but before I could, my car door opened.
“Are you OK?” A stranger asked me, “Is anyone else in the car?”
I answered her questions wondering how in the hell I was actually okay, and getting emotional thinking about that empty car seat behind me. I was still hanging from my seatbelt when I childishly asked her, “What should I do?”
This woman, a mother herself and a retired paramedic, had already called 911 and asked if I could unbuckle my seatbelt.
I quickly unbuckled it, fell with a thud, and awkwardly crawled out. Covered in coffee and shoeless.
I was pacing, crying, and breathing unevenly. In shock, and vulnerable, I felt the need to keep moving.
Another car had stopped, this woman a nurse and mother. They were both asking me to sit down. Annoyed but appreciative of these kind strangers, I sat down, repeatedly apologized, and reassured them I was fine. They kept saying “accidents happen,” but I still felt so incredibly embarrassed.
I saw additional cars pulling over on the side of the road and just wanted those people to leave. I didn’t want anyone else to get hurt by the slowed traffic.
My First Phone Call
Not even two minutes after the crash, I called my husband. Knowing he’d have to digest this information while driving, I tried to calm my emotions.
I kept it simple — I was in an accident, I was okay but my car wasn’t. I asked him to turn around and find me.
He was in shock, repeatedly asking if I was okay. I tried my best to assure him, even though I wasn’t so sure myself.
I tasked him with calling my parents. They were watching our daughter and we had planned to be home early that afternoon. Unsure of what would happen next, I wanted to tell them they’d likely be watching Harper a little longer. The mother in me knew that as my parents, they needed to know I was safe. And I needed their prayers.
Then for what seemed like the longest 20 minutes, I sat in the passenger seat of a Highway Patrol vehicle.
As Tyler passed us on the Interstate, we left my car behind with the tow truck company and met him on the exit ramp. We held each other tight, but not long enough (since the Highway Patrolman was there). He repeated all of the important tidbits of information, filing a claim, collecting my belongings, etc., that he knew I hadn’t absorbed earlier. And then he was gone.
I Got to Walk Away
After gathering what we could salvage from my vehicle and taking pictures of the exterior, we left knowing we’d likely never see it again.
My mind was reeling, but I didn’t have words.
Earlier that week, an acquaintance from college had passed away in a car accident. And I couldn’t help but wonder why God decided to keep me here and not him. And while I was so grateful, the feelings of guilt were overwhelming.
Trying to shake those thoughts, I looked down at my zip-up, which was covered in coffee. Annoyed, I took my sweatshirt off and burst into tears. The t-shirt I was wearing underneath was in remembrance of a family friend who had passed away and said, “The world needs you here.”
The Aftermath
The next morning, I woke up and it was business as usual. While I knew I’d never forget the accident and had a renewed look at how precious life can be, I had to move on. I had roles to fulfill and I was “fine.”
As things went back to what I would explain as normal, I threw myself into a “yes” mode. I did anything and everything I could to live my life to the fullest. I joined a Bible study, participated in a leadership program, attended events, went on more dates with my husband, volunteered more, and started writing for this very platform.
I wasn’t anywhere near a couch potato prior to the accident, but without realizing it, I kicked everything up to full speed.
And I don’t regret these things because they truly made me the happiest version of myself, but they were excellent distractions from the fact that I really wasn’t okay.
Not Okay
Months flew by and life went on.
Sometimes when I closed my eyes, I found myself back in the terrifying moments prior to the accident. Feeling out of control, I was able to bring myself back to the present by simply opening my eyes and taking a few deep breaths.
A few more months later, I had my first panic attack while driving in the Twin Cities. Sitting in the passenger seat in very heavy, touch-and-go traffic, my chest tightened and I found it hard to breathe.
I kept having the panic attacks as our summer travels continued. While I’d always calm down eventually, the lack of control over my body terrified me. I didn’t like relying on my husband to drive, but at that point, I didn’t feel like I had a choice and I was ashamed of that.
EMDR Therapy
My therapist knew about my accident a few months after it happened. I didn’t intentionally hide it from her, but it never came up in our sessions because I was “fine.”
And when she first mentioned Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing (EMDR) Therapy, I wasn’t interested.
EMDR is a structured therapy that encourages the patient to briefly focus on the trauma memory while simultaneously experiencing bilateral stimulation (typically eye movements). This is associated with a reduction in the vividness and emotion associated with the trauma memories.
After the panic attacks, I knew it was necessary despite the anxiety I felt about this new, unfamiliar method.
The Tough Work
Apprehensive but desperate to feel better, I showed up for my first session of EMDR Therapy. My therapist opted for tactile bilateral stimulation, so I held two devices between my hands that vibrated back and forth.
After a few deep breaths, she asked me to walk her through what happened, sharing as many details as possible. Shockingly, it was the first time I had shared word-for-word my experience.
It was an incredibly emotional 50 minutes and at times, it was hard to voice what I’d been through, but it worked.
After one session (I completed three total), I felt lighter. There wasn’t as much tension in my body and I felt relieved. I felt so good that I seriously questioned if my body was just tricking me into believing it had worked.
Making Sense of It All
But after listening to my therapist explain this technique, it all made sense.
My body was in a constant state of “flight” after my accident. Any time it came to mind or I was in a similar situation, I naturally tried to run away from it all.
My poor body was working overtime to shove the thoughts and memories down as far as possible to avoid the associated feelings. But it could only work so hard. During stressful times (like driving in heavy traffic), my body couldn’t suppress the anxiety, which translated into feeling out of control and panic attacks.
With the help of EMDR, I was able to finally process the memories and feelings without being transported to that high stress moment. And this allowed the “flight” reaction to exit my body.
Fault Versus Responsibility
In addition to processing the incident and questioning why I survived, I discovered I was carrying an enormous amount of guilt for events that didn’t even happen.
I couldn’t let go of the fact that I almost left my husband a widow at just 26 years of age and my daughter, who wasn’t even one at the time, without a mother. I thought of my parents having to bury their only daughter, my friends and family having to mourn me.
And while there wasn’t a car within a mile at the time of the accident, I also couldn’t stop thinking about how I could’ve hurt someone else. I know accidents happen and that we’ve all been distracted while driving, but I truly believed the accident and its results were all my fault. And because of that, it felt natural for me to suffer through the consequences.
Instead, I learned the difference between fault and responsibility. I can take responsibility for the actions that led me to hit the rumble strip, but the results of that situation (swerving across the road, crashing, and guilt) weren’t my fault.
My body did the best it could in an unthinkable situation and that’s that.
I had to learn how to talk to myself like I speak to my daughter when she’s misbehaved, or a friend when they feel they’ve made a mistake.
I had to be kind to myself.
What I Learned
As silly as it sounds, I’m grateful for this traumatic incident. When I look back, I don’t think of the negative aspects. Instead, I focus on what I’ve learned and how I can incorporate those lessons into my life.
First, our time here on earth is short and can be taken away in an instant. While I have control over my attitude, effort, and how I treat others, there isn’t much I can do with the circumstances God throws at me.
Second, it’s okay to ask for help, even if you think you don’t deserve or need it. Be honest with yourself and don’t ignore the signals from your body. Take the time to heal, in whatever way you see fit.
Third, let go of the guilt. I’ve made plenty of mistakes and I will continue to. That’s inevitable. Keep your expectations of yourself realistic and speak to yourself as you would a loved one.
And remember, we’re all just learning and growing as we go.
For more on working through the harder aspects of life, see Moms & Mental Health: How Therapy Makes Me a Better Mom.
