Thrust Into Turmoil: My Story

You feel out of control. You feel weak. You feel imperfect. You’re in pain and you just want to cry. I feel these things. We all have. What is your anchor though? 

There are big moments in life that bring you to your knees, so to speak. For me, there have been two (so far!) that are pretty much at the top of my list, and in two very different ways.

Being run over by a car and having a baby.

I have a very large scar and disfigurement across my right leg. There’s no missing it. I’m sure people are always wondering, what happened? What’s the story there? I never mind telling it, but not a lot of people ask. I’d like to share this because, although I never seem to notice it anymore, I have my moments of weakness.

What was the anchor I had that kept me from drifting away and drowning in negativity? My confidence. 

I want to share my story with you, so I can re-instill my own confidence and perhaps help folks recognize that their own confidence can prevent vulnerable moments in life from breaking them down. 

It’s a good story with a happy ending. And who doesn’t like that? 

August 6, 2013. Has it really been 7 years? Well, here goes. Right after law school, I studied for the bar, and had just completed it at the end of July. I remember feeling so happy, so stress-free, really on top of the world. That summer my boyfriend, Joe (now husband yay), and I were excited to start a new chapter together. He was accepted to be a Commissioned Officer working as a physical therapist for the United States Navy, but was furloughed. We were just waiting on the furlough to lift to find out where he’d be placed. 

One night, we decided to find a Dairy Queen to try the new s’mores blizzard.

On the drive we were rear-ended hard. We got out and I started calling 911 while standing closely to the two damaged cars. Joe went back to our car to make sure it was turned off when (and this part I don’t remember) a drunk and high driver barreled into both of our cars, never having slowed down. The car was driving so fast it pushed the car Joe was in forward. 

He got out and came running to find me lying on the pavement with my legs trapped underneath the car that originally hit us.

Joe and another man (no idea where he came from) literally lifted the car off my leg and pulled me out. 

I never looked down at my legs. I’ll never know the mangled mess of skin, bone and muscle mixed with debris that Joe saw. Next, I remember I was lying on the ground with Joe’s cheek against my cheek telling him how much I hurt and asking are they almost here yet? Will they be here soon? 

I can still feel his cheek on my cheek. That memory will never fade. 

I lost a lot of blood and passed out, but I was close to a hospital. I almost lost my leg. I almost lost my life. Yes, I lost a smooth looking “normal” figured leg. Yes, there were lost opportunities in my career and I was set back a bit. But, you know what I never lost? Myself. I made sure this wasn’t going to change who I was. And, you know what I gained? So much. 

And this accident didn’t just happen to me and didn’t just affect my life. It impacted my entire family and mostly Joe. He decided to stay with me and rehabilitate me instead of starting with the Navy. He was so passionate about the Navy. He had prepped for months, physically to pass the tests, and mentally getting excited for the opportunities and clinical independence being a physical therapist in the Navy would provide him. That all went away.

We lived with my parents for the next 1 ½ years. Joe performed physical therapy on me every day and slowly the bandages came off, the bleeding stopped, the strength returned. Slowly. I went from wheelchair to walker to crutches to cane to sneakers to flats to heels. Slowly.

What we lost doesn’t come close to what we gained.

Isn’t that amazing? I was able to spend so much time with my family after having lived away for the last 9 years and Joe built a strong and special relationship with my family. I know it was hard for him, to almost lose me, to see me hurt, to switch paths, to uproot himself. I honestly think this accident was harder for those around me than it was for me. 

I wasn’t worried about my life - I was unconscious. 

I wasn’t watching my loved one in pain with nothing I could do, but be there - I was the one in pain, but I could bear it - it was my own and I could control how I reacted to it.

I wasn’t the one who turned away an amazing career opportunity or changed my lifestyle to live with almost strangers.

There’s so much more to the story, as there is with every story. 

I got through this season in life with the help of family and friends, my faith, and my confidence. 

My confidence was a vital piece. Of course it ebbs and flows at times, but it’s strong and it allowed me to not think twice when I went out in public with shorts on. To not think twice that I wouldn’t be able to get back to skiing, running, hiking. As my healing progressed and things started to “plateau” so to speak, I did start to wonder if I would have trouble kicking a ball with my future kids, or playing on my knees with them.

I only wondered what would be in store, quickly changed thoughts, and would not let my wonders turn into fears.

There is absolutely no room to think of the what ifs. What if I have lingering pain? What if I don’t get muscle back? What if I can’t run? What if I can’t ski again? What if I can’t crawl on my knees when I have kids to play with them? What if I can’t run with them outside? What if I can’t kick a ball with my kids? There is no room for these thoughts. They will only bring about self doubt, self pity, anger. No thank you.

Whatever is in store for you later is not the here and now. You are here today and you are handling it. You can handle tomorrow. If you start thinking about the limiting what ifs, you immediately limit yourself. 

Getting me through the “wonders” of the future was my confidence in today. My confidence in knowing it didn’t matter what people thought when they saw my leg; it didn’t matter if I couldn’t run; it didn’t matter if I couldn’t wear heels, kick a ball, ski, hike, crawl on my knees. Knowing to my core these things don’t matter gives me my confidence.

Who I am. How I give. How I receive. How I celebrate. How I provide. How I teach. How I learn. How I inspire. How I love. That is who I am.

- Colette