Yesterday I was in a very scary car accident.
I was in the middle of nowhere, where I had a meeting for a new project that I was really excited about. As I drove home, I came to the top of what I knew to be a steep, narrow hill. As we reached the top of the hill, I saw a sand truck backing up the road. I squeezed the brakes lightly but they didn’t hold and started to slide, straight into the truck, which, because it was backing up, didn’t see me. I have a 4WD SUV with studded snow tires and those tires weren’t holding on to anything. Instead of sliding to the right in the truck, I headed right, toward a huge bank of ice filled with snow. Still, the truck didn’t see me and kept backing up, directly to the driver’s side. I honked and honked and at the last minute he saw me and stopped. I was able to get out of the snowbank and onto the road, but kept sliding downhill. The sand truck dropped some sand and left tracks, trying to stay ahead of me. Finally, safely, we both reached the bottom of the hill. Way to close for convenience.
I had an hour’s drive home after the incident and I was feeling quite euphoric. Really, I was very proud of myself. There are many times that I feel like I am too “a girl”, without knowledge of automobiles, heating systems and doorknob repair. But in those moments I know that I did exactly what I should have done to avoid a more serious accident. I lowered the gear stick, hit the brakes, and left the car. I was able to get out of said snowbank and managed to lower my car down a slippery hill without further incident. Yes, I was very proud of myself.
And then I came home. And the adrenaline was gone. My body felt like it had been hit by a truck and my mind was racing with everything that could have happened. What I really wanted, more than anything, was a hug and a kiss from someone who would rub my sore shoulders and tell me what a good job they had done. But none of those things happened because he was alone.
And here is the problem. Almost every day I am so happy with my life on my own. I can set my own hours and eat what I want and when I want. I can walk my dogs in the woods and watch anything on TV and go to bed whenever I feel like it. Life is good. I’m lucky. But then there are those moments when my life alone is not fun at all. When I am hurt or sad or have something exciting to share. Of course I can pick up the phone and call any number of friends, but it is not the same as sharing with someone you love, someone who is curled up next to you in bed.
I’m afraid I have no words of wisdom on this one. I can tell you that after a hot bath I got in my car and drove to my friend’s house, where I joined 4 other women and a bottle of wine and watched “The Bachelorette.” We laugh and celebrate the love of reality TV. And then I went home and went to bed and woke up the next day and life was good again.
Oh wait, maybe I have some words of wisdom. This loneliness, this feeling that overwhelms me some days, always seems to pass. So I try to remember this. Recognizing the impermanence of things can make them much more bearable. Anyone can handle anything for a while. And it doesn’t hurt, I’ve discovered, spending that time with your friends and a bit of reality TV. So make a plan, carry it out. You’ll be fine.
