Last week was the one-year anniversary of my near fatal car accident.
On May 8, 2023, without warning, another driver pulled in front of me on a five-lane highway and I T-boned him at full speed. Thanks to the marvel of engineering, Pinky, my trusty Nissan Altima, did exactly what she was designed to do and between the crumple zones, the engine dropping, air bags and who knows what other safety measures, I lived to tell the tale (the other driver survived, too).
Without a doubt, it was the most terrifying experience of my life. And, for a few moments, the most peaceful too. After the impact, my soul left my body and I saw the white light that everybody talks about and surrendered peacefully to my fate. However, within seconds, I heard/saw/felt/experienced “RILEY!” and knew I wasn’t supposed to go. I needed to stay for my daughter. I slammed back into my body and was miraculously able to unbuckle my seatbelt and extricate myself from the wreckage.
It took me four months to recover. For several weeks, I couldn’t care for Riley, couldn’t drive, couldn’t function but for the basics. For several months, my brain was severely compromised, and I couldn’t think, plan, remember. I was in constant pain. I was severely beaten up all over my body and I had a significant concussion. The amount of effort it took to recover—physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually—was Herculean. I navigated through depression, anger, confusion, denial, despair, fear, and so much more. (And that all happened just weeks after my birthmom and stepdad had died.)
But a year later, I’m fully-healed with a new lease on life. I had a huge community of support and healers to help guide me through it all. I feel like I am a walking miracle.
Author, researcher, and storyteller Brene Brown wrote:
“Owning our story can be hard but not nearly as difficult as spending our lives running from it. Embracing our vulnerabilities is risky but not nearly as dangerous as giving up on love and belonging and joy—the experiences that make us the most vulnerable. Only when we are brave enough to explore the darkness will we discover the infinite power of our light.”
Over the last year, I took the risk (er, was forced?!) to embrace my vulnerabilities:
- I had to ask for an embarrassing amount of help. Can you go to the grocery store for me? Will you take me to a doctor’s appointment? Would you mind transporting Riley from school to theatre rehearsal? I had to make hundreds of asks from friends and family. It’s hard to do that when you’re a pretty independent and self-sufficient person.
- Kicking and screaming, I had to admit my (significant) limitations. Although I thought I was OK, that’s the sneaky part of a concussion. It’s why they call it an “invisible injury” because you look OK on the outside but your Brain. Is. Not. Right. I had to admit that I couldn’t drive, couldn’t work, and couldn’t even care for my daughter (that one was the hardest).
- I had to sit quietly and acknowledge that I flirted with death. That was both scary as s$%^ and a deeply profound invitation to look at my relationship with life and death. I am now 54. Not a spring chicken but not old, either. I still have A LOT of living to do. I need to live life in Technicolor…no more black-and-white TV for me!
The rewards for taking these risks?
- I felt held and supported by my community like never before. I was able to receive and simply live in a place of gratitude. This is belonging.
- I was able to rest deeply and profoundly. No appointments, no responsibilities, no screens, no expectations. Just focus 100% on my healing. This is love.
- I’m no longer afraid to die. Having faced it head on, I trust that when it’s my time, it’s my time. I’m going to live my life as unapologetically as possible, informed by my inner knowing and Divine Guidance. This is joy.
So, what about you? When have you faced your vulnerabilities? Perhaps it was…
- Learning you have cancer and making a lifestyle overhaul while going through treatment.
- Getting married (for the 2nd or 3rd or 4th time).
- Sending your children off to “the real world” (college or a job) and transitioning to being an empty nester.
- The sudden death of a loved one (spouse, parent, child, friend) that turned your world upside-down.
- Taking out that big loan to invest in upleveling your business.
- Finally getting divorced after years of feeling like there was no way out.
- Ending a decades-long family rift by extending an olive branch.
In each of these situations, it requires courage and tenacity to own your story. It requires a willingness to acknowledge the hard parts and the uncomfortable emotions—fear, anxiety, shame, regret, anger, blame. It demands that we face our humanness which isn’t always pretty or easy or straightforward.
We are complex creatures and yet, that’s what makes life so amazing, isn’t it?
The contrast. The magic. The mystery. The plot twists. The celebrations. The AWE of it all.
I’m here for it ALL.
Are you?
.
.
.
If you need support in taking risks and embracing your vulnerabilities, schedule a call with me.
If you need ideas to create a ritual to help you navigate these transitions, buy my book.
If you are craving self-care support and community with like-minded women, come to my retreat.