CUTTING IT WAY TO CLOSE

It has taken me months to deal with this level of trauma. Days of crying at the mere thought. Sleepless nights and an overwhelming sense of guilt plagued me. Never will I forget the sight of seeing her fall to the ground in my rearview mirror as I sped off.

Okay I know the introduction was a little dramatic but I can’t say I am lying. 2020 kept swinging; and as much as I tried to block it from connecting, another jab would come out of nowhere and knock me down after I had just gotten up from the previous blow. There really is no excuse and this blog post isn’t a means of justifying my actions. I simply want to share my experience in hopes that no one else may experience it too.

After a long, stressful day at work all I wanted to do was get home. I tend to have a heavy foot, I can’t even lie, but this day I was driving particularly fast. Following the quiet roads of the suburbs, I found myself slowing down drastically as the car in front of me took its sweet time. Of course this gentleman was only driving the speed limit as any decent human being should. I was at a point of pure frustration at this point. After checking for on coming traffic and after realizing I couldn’t actually see on coming traffic around the bend, I sped up. I crossed the solid white line and that’s when I saw her. A young woman was waking in the street accompanied by a young gentleman. Of course more people starting walking and running as gyms were restricted.

The gap between her and the car was impossible. It was a split decision I made that has me constantly questioning my character.

I closed my eyes, clenched the wheel and just put my foot down on the accelerator. I flew by the car and the woman at easy 80 km/s. By the time I got to the next corner to turn I was already over 100km/s. I remember looking in my rearview mirror as I sped off. The image of her falling to the ground will forever be ingrained in my mind. I sped off for about 2km before I turned around and made my way back to face the consequences. It took me all of three minutes to get back to the site it happened. That entire time I not only prayed but practiced my apology.

I was expecting to see someone laying in the road. Police sirens and an ambulance. I was shaking. Terrified. But to my surprise no one was there. I drove up and down that road looking into drive ways hoping to see them. But nothing. I cried and drove home thinking of every possible outcome that could explain why she wasn’t there.

I told my mother and seeing that I was visibly upset about the incident, she recommended I go to the gym to work things out of my system I suppose. I didn’t know any better and before I knew it I was in the gym parking lot with my younger sister. She got out to attend a dance class and I took off. How could I train like nothing just happened? I drove back to the site and once again looked around in tears.

I called my uncle who lives in the area and he drove with me to the site. We rang door bells and knocked on doors in hopes that someone might know what happened and potentially know who that woman was. But alas, nothing. Not even the security heard about any commotion in the area. My uncle then called my father and explained the situation. Both men tried to keep me calm, and inspected my car for any damage. I couldn’t recall hearing a sound and my car had no damage what so ever. Combined with the fact that she was not on the site minutes after it had happened settled my dad and uncle’s minds that I probably didn’t hit her. Of course their reassurance never helped me.

I prayed. ALOT. I prayed that she was okay. I prayed that God would forgive me. I prayed that the police would come get me so that I could take responsibility for my actions. I prayed that I’d see her walking that road again just so I could tell her I was sorry. I prayed I could take care of her medical bills. I prayed she was alive. I prayed she wasn’t badly injured. I prayed that I could swap places. I prayed for the ability to forgive myself.

Hours turned to days. Days turned to weeks. Weeks turned to months and by 2021 I started therapy once more because I couldn’t cope. I thank God for therapy. My therapist made me do an exercise that broke me down emotionally, but healed me and allowed me to finally let go of the guilt I was carrying. Don’t get me wrong, I still think of her. I still have guilty moments. And I don’t think I will ever fully forgive myself. But I’m trying.

I have multiple reasons for sharing this story. My hope is firstly to avoid something like this happening to someone else. Please drive safely guys. Be aware of people around you. Don’t let your frustrations contribute to your driving. Secondly, we can’t grow, evolve, inspire, learn if we don’t address our traumas. Asking for help is okay. Seeking professional assistance is okay. Living a life of grief, guilt and unhappiness is not.