Decided I needed to record what I remembered of yesterday. It's v long..
It was very surreal, the crash. For some reason, it all felt like deja vu. I recall Jon was talking about how he wanted the xbox1 because it had better multiplayer capabilities and he didn't care about the aspects that everyone viewed as negative. I sorta rolled my eyes, and went 'okay' because I didn't care. Then he said how maybe we could sell the Wii to help buy it bc no one really plays on it. To that I protested, because I liked the wii. I used it when I had time to play games. I said I wanted to get a WiiU in the future, so I could play all the Zelda games. I didn't say that last part. It sounded kinda dorky to say. The car started dinging because Jon didn't have his seatbelt on yet, and so playfully I kinda groaned at him to put it on so it would shut up. He did, of course. We came up to the stop light, and the turn light was flashing yellow. Yield to oncoming traffic. Yeah, okay, I've done this many times before. The thru lights on my side had just turned red. I presumed this meant that the thru lights on the other side would turn red as well, and it would change to the N-S direction, so I pulled out and began to turn. I remember staring into the traffic that wasn't slowing down, but I didn't stop. I think I was transfixed by it. I could hear Jon screaming my name, kinda tensing in his seat like he does when Dad starts to swerve in the truck when he's tired. Tight, loud, and filled with tense panic. I had the momentary thought that I should gun it and somehow I would miraculously make it through to the other side. I couldn't make my foot move though. Couldn't, didn't... it was all kinda separated. I saw the blue truck speeding at us, and part of me knew it was going to make impact, while the other prayed for some kind of miraculous... miracle. I didn't think defensively. I couldn't move at all. Then there was impact, so loud I both heard it and didn't, and I vaguely remember seeing us swing around in the totally opposite direction and come to a stop on the side walk, and then I woke up.
I couldn't breathe. That was my first thought. There was a pressure on my chest and a terrible lack of oxygen in my lungs. I gasped and my left hand clutched the steering wheel. I could hear Jon saying my name, and someone ran to my door and pulled the door open. “Are you okay?” They asked, and somehow I managed to answer yes. I wasn't bleeding and I wasn't in excruciating pain. It was good enough. They went away babbling on the phone to report the crash, and I looked around me. More specifically, I looked at Jon. He didn't look hurt at all. Then I noticed the mustard on the window, the condiments on the dashboard, and a spinach leaf behind the steering wheel. Great, so one of the sandwiches exploded. I then turned my eyes back ahead of me and they found their way closed as I repeated quickly to myself 'breathe slow breathe slow, deep and drawn out'. All of this happened in the matter of a few seconds. I can feel the tears well up, however, and the consequences of my actions flash through my brain. I caused an accident. Part of my mind tries to console me by saying I wasn't the one who ran into anyone, but I know it's not true. I wasn't worried about the truck that hit me, though. I worried about my family, my father, the fact that I had a restricted license. We were already tight on money, and this was the last thing we needed. There'd be tickets to pay, and the car to fix. I couldn't believe I had messed up so badly. I should have known the light wasn't going to turn red. How many times had I gone through this light? Several hundred, I'm sure.
“Oh my gosh,” are the first words I uttered, weak and spiked by tears, “That was so dumb.” I shook my head. “I can't believe I did that. That was so dumb.” I'm terrified of what will happen to my driving privileges. Will they suspend my license? How will I visit Burgan during Spring Break now?
Burgan. Jon was still staring at me, telling me to breathe and that it's okay. I nodded to placate him, but I reached forward to my phone, in the compartment where the CDs used to be. It's still there. Good. I grabbed it and hastily put my thumb to the home button, unlocking it. Holding it, I then realized how much I'm shaking. I opened the message app, and it goes back to the conversation with Burgan. I quickly texted her two things.
“Un I just got in a wreck” and “I'm not hurt”. Her response is “WHAT”. I expected that. Still reeling from my stupidity, I told her, too, how dumb it was. But that didn't occupy her interest. She was concerned about me, and my license. Well, my lack of one. I told her I have my permit. She said “And no adult in the car”. I tell her I know, I'll be ticketed. Someone came by sometime during that, this time on Jon's side of the car, and opens the door asking if we're hurt and if there's anyone else in the car. I became aware of how my left leg was numb below the knee, but I nodded and said in a shaky voice that we are. Just bumps and bruises. He, too, proceeded to jabber on the phone and call in the crash, saying there were no injuries. I kept my phone in my lap, and pulled my pantleg up with trembly hands. There's a slight bruise on the side of my knee, and I can only feel slight things returning to it. Just as slow, I let the cloth back down. I'd stopped crying, so I looked back over at Jon and I must have asked him something about his condition, because he told me his head kinda hurt and that was it.
Then it occurs to me that I should call someone. I realized that Dad would probably be asleep still, but I tried to call anyway. Well, I say I tried, but I was shaking too much that I gave it to Jon to call. He fumbled some, going through my contacts and not finding the number, and then I blurted out that I haven't put it in yet, and he has to type it in. He does. There's no answer. Faces and names flash through my head as I try to think of who to call. Emily. My sister lives only a couple miles away, and we're only two miles from our house. “Call Emily,” I said, focusing on not crying again. Jon searched, asked me if it was 'Emooleee', and I quickly not and whimper out a 'yes'. She picked up right away, thankfully, and as Jon started to talk, I motioned for him to give me the phone. My voice was still strained and shaky. I asked her what she was doing, she said she just got out of the shower. She asked what's up, and I told her that I got in a car wreck. Maple Grove and Overland. I started to cry again, thinking about it the reality of it. I messed up so bad. I told her a little more and then we hang up, and she'd be on her way. The details of what happened after don't matter. Others came to the car, asked us if we were hurt, and then we were instructed to stay in the car. I realized at some point that it hurt to breathe in, right in the middle of my breast. I alternated from tears to counting and timing my breaths, and Jon tried his best to help keep me calm. I would think about how he wasn't hurt, and then realize how hurt he could have been, and I started crying again. It would repeat like that. I'd realize how bad it could be, and how bad it was, and the tears would well up again. I realized quickly how I couldn't let myself imagine how things could have been, or else I would go into a panic. Instead, I texted Burgan about my condition and tried to find out what the penalties would be for getting caught with just my permit. But I started to get a handle on the situation, and within an hour, I was home in bed with a bag of ice over my knee.
I had several impressions during this time. I hope I can remember them all now. First was thank God it wasn't worse. Thank God Jon wasn't hurt more. He hit his head, and may have a minor concussion, but if we had turned any more, he would have been dead. He would have been hit head on by the truck, and no doubt, he would have died. Another was how fragile life is, and how insignificant, yet important, decisions are. I remember having the impression of peace and acceptance that I was going to die, the moment before impact. It still replays a lot in my mind, during my normal activities. And then I remember everything I have left to do, and I realize that I'm not ready to die. I'm not frightened by the prospect. Rather, I'm only concerned about Jon's life, but I wasn't prepared to die, if that happened. I feel very humbled by that prospect. It also shattered my disconnect between the awful in the world and me. This was my first crash where there were consequences. I crunched someone's bumper once while backing out of a parking slot in our giant truck, and I've hit someone's car in another parking lot and cracked their bumper, but I never faced any consequences. This.. this was something big I couldn't escape. I think that's what I'm most scared of losing. That realization that I'm not disconnected from everything. Because for the time after the crash, laying in bed and figuring out how I'm going to make the money back from my citations and still get enough to visit Burgan at the end of March, I felt clearly what I could do. What I would do. I felt motivated to actually do things for school, and achieve things. I've realized I'm ultimately not upset with the crash at all. It still seems so big, but it was a humbling, learning point for me. That's why I'm writing this all. So I don't forget that conviction.
After talking to my mom today, she shared a verse with me that she had just found. Doctrine & Covenants 100:1. It says something about how God is watching over our loved ones. How true it is. Maybe I shouldn't feel so calm about this. There are still lots of problems to face. But I am calm. Somehow, we'll get through them. It'll be okay. And Jon and I got through it with only a couple of bumps and bruises.
listening to my dad trying to tell me to do stuff makes me feel like a rebellious dumb teenager
granted, i am still a dumb teenager, but
it's like.... probably it's not good to think this, but considering everything that's happens, i catch myself thinking 'you have no right to boss me around'
yes, I know i should finish projects
yes, i know i didn't get that one done and that it's gonna make someone else have to hurry a lot
no, i kinda don't care, and you know why?? because i have to deal with so many other things that i really don't have any more of myself to give to it. yes, i'm very good at cutting myself off from things. no, i don't want to tell you things because you take up my time talking about inane things, and even when you don't, it feels like it bc you do it so often that I can't help but associate it.
i'm at the point where i don't want to have to deal with you at all anymore. i suppose that's kinda heartless, but after having to pick myself up feeling quite alone and bear the burdens you've put on me for years, it kinda builds up some resentment. No, it's not particularly good of me, but I can't see it changing any time soon. Not until after I'm out of this place and living on my own.
plus, it doesn't help that they way you talk to me is like 'uhhhhhhhh do you even know what you're doing???' like excuse me are you really one to talk look what you've done with your life now. you spend lots of your money on a duncehead woman who can't act on anything but her emotions and is so fearful that she becomes selfish and hard to tolerate. And doing so gets you in trouble with your parents, who have threatened to stop helping you every month if you keep paying for that dumb woman's stuff, but you do it anyway because you're desperate for something. Companionship? Validation? i don't know, and i'm finding it hard to care. No one really cares for her, and you still think that she's still going to be good here? I'm normally one for second chances, but the thought of having to deal with her and her sensitivity makes me tired already. She's a dependent, and you don't need that. You're one yourself.
But of course you're not going to do that. Maybe it makes you feel good to have someone need to depend on you. Maybe it validates you. but it's not going to fix anything. If anything, it's going to make things worse for you. It's just digging yourself deeper. But you've done that for ages. You don't really know how to get rid of things. You just want to be important to people and possessions seem to be a way for you to attain that. I don't think you really know what you want in life. I mean, you're 58 and you've been unemployed for over 5 years. I honestly don't think you'd be able to work, considering how doped up you are on pain meds all the time, and how slow you are. I think that's part of the reason why you talk so much. I mean, with feeling important. You just blather on about yourself and gossip about old stories for no other reason that to hear yourself talk and demand my attention. Which, by the way, I can't really afford to give. Thanks school.
I really can't wait to get out of here and on my own. I'm tired of carrying your baggage.
So i saw that duela dent cosplay photo again (which is an incredible cosplay, I must say), and it was making me feel slightly uncomfortable, and eventually I realized that it was because of how exposed the boobs were. But not because the boobs were there. It was because I imagined myself wearing something like that, and I expected that by having my boobs that exposed, they would be touched and taken out by passing guys without my consent.
That makes me really sad that even just in imagination, I expect to be sexually harrassed if I expose parts of my body.
