For all of my life, I have avoided fear. I don't watch scary movies. I don't read thrillers. I sleep with a light on in the hallway and my ear out for weird noises downstairs. Fear, to put it lightly, is not my friend.
But that doesn't mean it isn't inevitable.
Last night my husband and I were in a car crash. Single vehicle, spun out on some black ice on a bridge going down the interstate. We spun out going full speed and hit the wall of the road, covered in ice and snow and concrete, all while 18 wheelers were ripping by. I thought I knew fear before. I thought I could avoid her with caution and purpose.
But then the car slid, and no preparation in the world could have made me ready for how it made me feel - or what it made me confront.
The mortality of the love of my life, my dear husband, and our future flashed before my eyes in those moments we were spinning around in that truck.
His first words after impact were ones to make sure I was okay, and mine were the same to him.
We were blessed last night, truly. We walked away with some minor bumps and bruises, while the truck took a beating.
The airbags didn't deploy, and while I'm not sure why, I know it all happened for a reason.
It could have been so much worse. It could have been a night of loss and sorrow.
Instead, it was a steadfast reminder to be careful and intentional - to count blessings like one counts snowflakes on winter mornings.
Fear was inevitable in that moment. If I am being honest, I still see the headlights nearing us. I still hear the screeching of tires and the pounding of the metal frame against the interstate wall.
God damn black ice on bridges.
But it taught me a lesson - control of inputs doesn't equal a guaranteed output.
My husband was cautious and alert. And we still crashed.
The truck was well maintained. And we still crashed.
I was safe and unharmed, and I was still terrified.
Fear. Is. Inevitable.
Embracing it, like my husband and I were forced to in the moments after the accident, was the only way through. Since last night, we have been so blessed with a community of people who have reached out to ensure our safety and health. The semantics of what happens to the truck and the insurance claims all will follow, all with their own headaches I am sure. But my family is whole, and that is all that matters.
That assurance is enough to soothe the panic that finds its way clawing up my throat at random intervals this morning.
I am afraid to drive now. I got in my car to drive him to work this morning, as we are now a single car household, and fear gripped my heart the entire way we rolled down the road. Every moment I was in that car made me feel small, unsafe, and vulnerable.
Emotions that I hate feeling.
But we arrived safely, and I got home unscathed as well.
I'm not sure how long I will feel this way, only that I do and that it is reasonable to feel these emotions.
Reasonable. Rational. Logical. Understandable.
Just not enjoyable in the slightest.
Between now and my next post, I will be relishing in the safety of my own home, counting my blessings, and thanking every higher power I can name for the protection and care that watched us last night. As for my readers, I highly suggest you do the same.
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