When the Unexpected Happens Pt. 1/2
You’re gonna question life. You’re gonna feel lost. And you’ll be confused. You may even fall into depression and self-isolate.
On August 28, 2020, my heart was broken… and my left shoulder blade, too.
A Ford 1500 Ram truck hit me with its mirror right outside of Indianapolis as I rode my bike on the shoulder of a two lane road 1.5 months into a cross country (and back) tour – a trip I expected to fill the next two years of my life. Even now, I would still be on the road had this accident not occurred. But it did. And I had to pivot – though that doesn’t mean I did so right away. No. It was hard. And even still, I find myself getting emotional and tearing up as I write these words.
The truth is, I had dreamt of this trip for four years and had worked to make it happen for just as long. After a friend suggested the idea, I grew really excited about the prospect. Some would even say obsessed. I put my head down and first paid off my student loans, then bought all the necessary gear and equipment (after hours of arduous and meticulous research), and finally saved up an amount of money that would allow me to purely focus on the tour and not on how I would sustain myself throughout it. I started self-defense classes. I took a class and watched countless supplementary videos on how to make and fix your own bicycle. I, along with the friend that joined me for the tour, planned our route and the timing of our stops. I laid at night, imagining all the adventures and good times we would experience. I reveled in the thought that – for the next two years – I would be sleeping under the stars, in nature, taking life at my own pace. It had become my purpose, a part of me.
But all of that changed – just 1.5 months in. So, of course I couldn’t just pivot. It’s not that easy. Not when you’re that passionate about something.
On top of the fact that I barely got to live out my dream, I also had to deal with the feelings of incompetence and weakness that came with not being able to use my left arm normally for almost 6 months. This meant that I, who have been forever proud of my independence and my ability to figure things out, had to depend on other people for things as simple as dressing or brushing my hair. I had to go back to living with my parents for a few months – and I couldn’t even help them put up the Christmas decorations.
I had to go to PT for months so that I could even lift my left arm out at a 90 degree angle. And forget about doing yoga or, at the beginning, even meditation. So, not only did this accident cut my dream short and affect me physically, it also affected me mentally, emotionally and spiritually. And to make matters heavier, my aunt, with every good intention, told me that not too long before my accident, an angel had spoken to her in her dreams, telling her that someone young who she loves was on the wrong path. So, even though I’m sure she didn’t mean it that way, I now had to deal with feelings of self-blame and confusion. How could I have veered off the path so much that the only way to get me back on it was to be hit by a car? How could something that felt so right have been so wrong? Could I no longer trust my intuition and my desires? At some points, I almost even fell into thoughts of “what did I do to deserve this?” and blaming the Universe for my misfortune.
And the worst part was that I didn’t even allow myself to grieve for the first couple months. It didn’t even occur to me that I had reason to. Grief is reserved for the loss of someone close to you, right? At least that’s what I thought, since that had been my only experience with grief. It wasn’t unitl after I was texting a friend about what I was going through that she texted me “Yara, you have to grieve.” And even just reading those five words opened the flood gates. It was like I finally had permission to fully feel what I was feeling. And I finally allowed myself to grieve and release some of the heaviness that was clouding me.
After that, things got easier, though they still definitely weren’t easy. I was finally able to see that things weren’t all bad anymore or ever, even. I felt lucky and extremely grateful for my tour partner who seemed to know exactly what to do following the accident. They called the ambulance. They cooked for me and cared for me for the following few days that we were in Indianapolis. They got us and our stuff back to my family home in New Jersey safely and they did it all out of genuine concern, care and compassion. Not once did they make me feel like a burden and for that I will forever be thankful.
I also had the foresight to save enough money before the trip to cover an emergency, should one occur, and so I never had to worry about my finances throughout all of this, which is more of a blessing than I can say. On top of that, the love, care and support kept pouring in. It was a huge blessing that I had a loving family and secure home to go back to and – as it would turn out – I was only a 15 minute (enjoyable) walk away from one of the few PT offices in the area that didn’t require health insurance. I had found both a competent and personable lawyer with ease who I trusted would take care of my case and, because of the timing of everything, I got to spend the holidays with family and friends.
So, though it didn’t happen right away, eventually the feelings of despair, confusion, self-blame, grief and victimhood eventually lifted. I eventually picked myself back up and put the same dedication and drive into PT as I had into saving money and planning for the trip. And I can happily report that I’ve essentially made a full recovery. I’m able to do yoga again, to swim, to practice self-defense and karate, to ride my bike! And I’ll never take any of that, or my health, for granted again.
Read part 2 here, where I talk more about the lessons that came out of this experience.