The way I move through my days now is so incredibly different and yes there is the sacredness and how I love the sacredness of my life now post-accident. My innate ability to appreciate life’s little moments is the epitome of what I would call sacred. But it truly means to know joy alongside sorrow. And to know pain next to happiness. I make many daily decisions to live in the now and be present with my heart, mind, and body.
I told my trauma therapist, “I hate when people tell me I am courageous” and I imagine those who hear it understand my sentiment. We ask the world collectively, “What is the alternative option?” Sadly everyone on this side of trauma knows the answer. The answer is death. It is giving up. It is staying stuck. It is remaining in anger, fear, frustration, and overwhelm.
Lost in Anger and Despair
I look back on some of my darkest days and I remember just how much I did not even want to live. It was too much to just brush my hair. I went three whole days without a brush through it. I did not care. I remember eating saltines for a full day because the thought of any sort of food crossing my lips made me want to throw up. And do you want to know why I didn’t want to throw up? Because I liked it. I liked it because I could feel something other than sadness and it gave me a sense of control. One of my first nights at home after my time in the hospital rehab center I was lost in an oblivion of anger and despair and I ended up so upset I threw up. It was the first time in a month that I felt good.
That doesn’t seem all that courageous if you ask me. The courageous thing was bringing it up at my next therapy appointment and trying to not do it again. Or trying to not do it now when my days are covered in darkness. Or running a brush through my hair on one of those days. My therapist later said to me, “Maybe it ‘s the little courageous things you are choosing to do along the way that has courage in them” I said, “Yes I choose that.”
Darkness Rides Alongside Me
I call those sacredness moments caring for myself though because the other version of myself scares. The one who gives into the dark. The one who can jump into the pit with a monster willingly. I won’t do that to my husband and I won’t do that to my children. But more than anything I won’t do it to myself. So when the shadows start threatening the light I have to choose the next courageous small thing. Some may call that courageous and yes I suppose it is in some way, but I want to remind you. It is courageous because it has to be because that is the only option. I am courageous because I decide to live. I decide every day to let the light in instead of the dark even though it rides right alongside me reminding me of its presence.
And I suppose talking so frankly about Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) makes others uncomfortable and that’s okay. When we let our outside begin to match what is happening on the courageous inside, I will never be ashamed of the moments that brought me to this one moment and this moment where I am sitting here telling you about being a survivor of a catastrophic car accident with PTSD.
In August of 2021 after celebrating my daughter’s birthday my husband and I were t-boned by a distracted driver who was completely at fault. Our car was hit so hard that it flipped the car from front to back. The hardest part of our story, the part that has caused me the most trauma, is that my newly 20-year-old daughter was right behind us in her car. She was the first on scene and the one who called 911 believing both her parents were gone. The nightmares of those screams, the only thing I was conscious enough to process as I was upside down in our car, have not left my mind since.
We Need to Shine a Light on Sacredness
It is disgusting that we are required to tiptoe around in our traumas so quietly. So when I tell my story and shine my light on sacredness or speak of my struggles with PTSD that is my little act of courage because the world will tell us we should not. But I fight back and remind you…here we do. Here we do.
Submitted by Shannon R. Eichenauer, MA
For read more of Sharon’s personal journey please visit: mommyrhetoricwrites.com and we also encourage you to follow her on instagram at: mommyrhetoric.
This article is also featured in our 2023 Summer Issue of Sharing our Recovery.
