I'm a good driver. I told someone the other day that I hadn't been in a car crash since 1982, but that is wrong. I was also in an incident on the way to Devin's lacrosse practice back in 2004. That was pretty terrifying. Some guy stopped in the middle of the road and the only way to avoid hitting him was to swerve up onto a grassy slope. I was driving a Suburban, a wonderful vehicle with the protection of a tank. Devin was fine. I was fine. The vehicle needed a little work but it was drivable soon after. Months later, when I smelled woodsmoke coming from the chassis, I got under the car and found a piece of a tree branch from that day wedged into the metal.
I mention all this because it happened again the other day. Just minding my own business when a guy abruptly pulled into my lane and his car died. Completely. With no chance to stop in time, I slammed hard on the brakes. I was sure I was about to die. Air bag opened on collision, which broke my Oakley's but spared my head. I won't go into any more details. Suffice to say that I'm reliving it just writing about it now. My Rover is driveable, though that wouldn't be smart or aesthetically pleasing, given the bashed in front end, coolant leak, and crumpled hood.
I got out and got real functional, calling AAA, and Calene, and talking to the cop who came to survey the scene. I've learned to stay cool in such situations, or at least try to. We've had a series of ambulances coming to the house over the past six months so I try not to act rattled when I talk to first responders. I gathered details, swapped insurance info, got my essentials out of my car before they loaded it onto the tow truck. Essentials differ by circumstance, but I was also due at practice that afternoon. So I grabbed a spike wrench and two stopwatches along with my wallet and a spare hoodie in case it got cold. The rest of the stuff I left. Then I began walking the three miles to track practice.
My good friend Jon Clark called and offered to give me a ride, which was exceptional. I was starting to feel a little shaky as the adrenaline wore off. I was mad that my car was broken. I was thankful to walk away from what could have been a fatal collision. I called the insurance company and filed a claim, checking more boxes in my attempts to keep my wits about me.
Practice turned out to be a bad idea. I was emotionally disconnected and still in a daze. My muscles were beginning to stiffen and I was acting funny. Calene called and said she was coming to get me. I tried to act normal but she wasn't surprised when I abruptly went to bed at 7:30. I slept until midnight then lay awake until dawn, when it was time to go to practice again.
So I stood there on the beach near the San Clemente pier yesterday morning, waves breaking on a clear cold morning, waiting for my athletes to arrive for the weekly long run as organizers of a surf competition set up on the beach. It was just me, them, and the morning. I still don't know what to make of all this. What I've been striving for over the last six months, more than anything else, is a sense of normalcy. I like to pretend I've got it all under control.
The word "trauma" has become vogue lately, to the point that I think it sometimes sounds excessive. But I'm wrong. It's not just the car crash but the last six months. Trauma is real and present. No matter how cool and un-rattled I try to be, I can't deny that this shit isn't going away overnight. Nothing routine about it.
How does trauma feel? For me, it's anger, confusion, disbelief, and uncertainty. It’s the feeling that I can’t believe what just happened.