Written by It seems like every day is difficult, Whit. Every. Damn. Day.
Take today, for example. You injured a bicyclist. Yup, you read that correctly. A man, on two wheels, smashed into your four-wheeled vehicle. And it was your fault. WHAM!
What a catastrophe. (Car-tastrophe?)
You know the kicker of the whole situation? You had just left a session with your therapist. You were less than two minutes away from his office, the office with the comfy couches that smell like your grandma and obviously came from the thrift shop (therapy on a budget). He had spent an hour guiding you through all of the emotional turmoil you have been experiencing over the past few months…one person at a time. Aaron. Your boss. Your father. Your mother. Your brother. The pain poured out of you like Niagra Falls.
In true Melbourne fashion for the middle of winter, it was cold, dark, and dreary. As you walked to your car, it started to rain. You were emotionally exhausted, your self-love tank was running on fumes, and all you really needed was a hug.
Sorry, Miss Whit, no hugs for you.
You were driving through a quiet neighborhood and had stopped at an intersection, getting ready to turn. You looked to the right, but a massive tree blocked the view. You pulled out slowly, looking the other way. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a bright light as it came straight toward your rear car door…THUNK! And then, a series of smaller thunks on your roof as the bicyclist was launched over your car and onto the ground.
Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit. I killed someone!
Your heartbeat was racing as fast as the “oh shits” in your mind. You opened the door and ran around the back of your car, feet moving faster than Forrest Gump through the Mojave desert.
A man lay on the ground. Groaning. In pain…alive. He’s alive!
You didn’t kill someone, Whit. But, as you watched the bicyclist reeling on the concrete, holding his arm and crying in agony, you saw yourself reflected in him and his pain. In that moment, a part of you seemed to die. Why would life do this to you? You have already been beaten and broken by so many other experiences in the past two months (all of which had been re-lived just moments before on that granny couch), so why would life crush you even more?
You keep fighting, but life is throwing harder punches.
Over the next hour, you watched in a dazed blur as the ambulance and police arrived. By this point, you had helped the bicyclist up onto the curb and had apologised profusely for causing the accident. The paramedics evaluated his injuries and determined that he had a dislocated shoulder. The police interviewed witnesses and gathered evidence. Other people nearby helped pick up the smashed pieces of the bicycle and directed traffic away from the area.
An older lady from a nearby house came down to the street, saw you and said, “Oh honey, are you okay? Would you like a cup of tea?” You looked up at her, nodded, and started crying. Suddenly, you felt the terrible weight of guilt for the pain you had inflicted on another human being (accidentally slamming your brother’s fingers in the door was mild compared to this). Her kindness reminded you that you are also human and deserving of love and compassion.
Sometimes, a kind action can break you more than a harsh one.
But that kindness also heals.
As the paramedics, police officers, and observers all got into their cars and drove away, you wrapped your hands a bit tighter around your warm cup of tea. The “oh shits” faded and were replaced by you’re okay you’re okay you’re okay.
Maybe if you say it enough times, you will actually believe it.
You’re okay.
You’re okay.
You will be okay, Whit.
Whit Munroe 