I was in a car accident almost 2 years ago. I’ve been in a few, but this one was extra scary. I had kids in the car, one of which wasn’t even mine. It was during the darkest, coldest part of the year. I’m getting older, and headlights seem to be getting brighter, so night drives can be a challenge.
The section of road is very narrow. That’s what happens sometimes when roads are built for a town that existed before everyone started moving in. It winds, and turns, and you hope that the silent agreement of “You stay on your side, and I’ll stay on mine” holds true as the drivers headed toward you get closer. In this case, the driver didn’t hold to it. Without much room to avoid him, it was inevitable impact. Thankfully, we were not injured. The car was totaled, and I still miss that sunroof.
Ever since then, the road has scared me. I’ve driven it every day, but I still get uneasy at that spot. I worry that the cars coming towards me don’t see how little room I might have to get out of their way, or that the truck misjudges just how wide it is. Given what I know about anxiety, and trauma, I know that I had to keep driving the road, even with passengers. I know that it makes sense that my body reminds me. I know that I can’t make too many decisions based on this one bad thing that happened. Avoidance doesn’t work. And yet, it has still been scary.
Then something happened: They cut down the trees. The city started working on the road, with a plan to widen it. Construction has been going on for months now, and trees have been cleared up and down the road. I’ve noticed, but not really noticed. Until one day, I noticed that I drove past the spot and it felt different. Open. Safer. Brighter. The ability to see further down the road had improved from both directions. I felt……disappointed?
I cycled through emotions of confusion, and relief, and disappointment, and anger. Then questions about what it means now. It reminds me of a particular experience that comes with “getting better”. We often assume that the experience of recovery- from mental illness, physical injury, a difficult event- is always positive. That each day we feel relief from distress, and gratitude for the positive changes. But I don’t think that is true. I think that when something feels better, we might have to grieve that the wound is healing. We have to ask ourselves if we are allowed to still have felt the way that we did, now that it is passed. We have to cope with confusion about how if something can improve, why was it bad in the first place? We have to notice and resist anger about the way something is now, and how if circumstances would have been different then, I would still have that comfortable car with a sunroof. And less fear about carpools, which I desperately rely on.
So many times I meet with people who desperately want to feel improvement in their lives. They have goals in mind, and values they want to live by. But sometimes, the closer they get, the more they want to abandon it. They feel pulled back to dysfunctional thoughts or behaviors, because it can be so invalidating to move from how hard it was. I encourage you to notice if this happens for you. If, when the trees are cleared and the road is safer, you sometimes aren’t sure if it’s better or worse. The truth is, it’s somewhere in between. Whatever happened on that road happened. Allowing it to be better, allowing yourself to feel safer, more confident, more satisfied in your life- none of that means that you have to forget why it was hard. Sometimes, it might still feel hard. Sometimes, you might engage in something that you never would have guessed you could do before treatment, and barely notice. The job in this part of recovery is to notice the mixed feelings that may come up, and validate yourself. Speak kindly to yourself about the hard moments you had, or the things you wish you did differently when you were in distress.
All while reminding yourself: I don’t need it to be hard again for it to have mattered.
