February Blog
Welcome to another episode from my life. Have you had a near death experience? Have you felt that you've escaped and wonder how on earth it was possible? I don't have the answers, but we can sure be thankful to live another day!
Thanks for stopping by and reading.
Sometimes I think about how I’ve survived this long. With addiction, trauma and many careless choices, there is only one answer… Gods hand has been in my life. Or as some may say, “the universe,” “angels,” or other interpretations. In my book, I’ll call it, Gods protection.
My first recollection of near death occurred when I was around age four or five. We were in town visiting friends and since I was an outdoorsy kid, I went to the front yard to play. I vaguely remember the family had two older children, who were outside with me. Some front yards in the city have green electrical boxes. They are approximately 4x4 feet, by three feet high. I’ve never paid attention to these because I’ve never had one. Power and electricity are not delivered to country folks in this way.
So back to my near-death experience. As I played around this green box, I decided to climb it. Somehow, I lost my balance and fell directly onto my back and completely lost my breath, everything went dark for a moment, then my eyes opened. They gazed upon the bright blue sky and puffy white clouds, as they seemed to zoom further away from me. My body couldn’t move and my ears did not hear a sound. I thought I was going to die and wondered if my parents would be okay. I wasn’t afraid because I was too young to understand what life meant. I hadn’t experienced life yet. It may have a minute or so until I could move. I sat up and didn’t see the kids. I survived.
If you’ve read BOX OF SHAME, there are many examples of surviving. Alcohol poisoning should have been a killer, many times over. The following is an excerpt from the book from a night of heavy drinking and somehow still managing to stay alive.
“The binge began at home until I got lonely and bored, then I needed excitement. I drove back to town and found an old drinking buddy. We lounged on her couch and, walked the city in the darkness, until dawn, hours had passed. I was tired but thought I must be sober enough to operate a vehicle, but just in case, I snuck through quiet suburban streets to the highway. I’d be safe from the cops now, there wasn’t much traffic, and the sunrise not yet in full bloom. I cruised in our 1989 Chevy truck, eager to pass out in my bed.
My foot accelerated the gas petal as I rounded the last corner before home, veering into the other lane. A car appeared out of nowhere directly in front of me. With a second to spare, he swerved towards the ditch; tires squealed on the pavement. My hands braced the steering wheel and my elbows deadlocked as I stomped on the brake to pull over; an inch further, and it could’ve been a double fatality. I exhaled and began to breathe again, my body shuddered at the thought that my drinking almost caused a disaster. Death, DUI, jail, exposing my secret life, were all catastrophes I just narrowly avoided. I had things to lose at this point, and I wanted to live. Mom and I were tight, Gary was in my life, new faces in recovery were entering my world, and my past acquaintances had forgotten all about me. This was the start of a life that I didn’t want to give up. Drinking was the problem and I had to do something about it. I finally accepted that I was an alcoholic.
Glancing behind me, I saw a cloud of dust and taillights fading away. The driver regained control and disappeared. I’d never tell Gary about this awful night, when I almost killed someone or myself, how I almost destroyed his Chevy, how I was so plastered from supper time until seven in the morning, or how disgusted with myself I was. He would never hear the truth.”
You will find more recklessness and survival in the book. (Details to follow.)
If anybody knows my “Gary,” you know how important his trucks are to him. He’s quite a handy guy when it comes to mechanics. This Chevy wasn’t a souped-up machine like his other truck, but it was new to us and a great ride. A few years later when I had some sobriety under my belt, I was again faced with death. The Chevy found its new home in the scrap yard! Yes, it was me… I crashed it!
I pulled out at a T-section onto the highway and a minivan travelling 90 km/hr hit directly between the cab and the box of the truck. Suddenly, the truck spun in circles in slow motion before hitting a guard rail. As it spun, I could see a few items floating above the bench seat. I turned to my right, and silhouette flashes of Jesus sitting beside me, filled my vision. I remember feeling very odd about it because I somehow knew it wasn’t my time to go. I’m guessing he was just there as a show of support.
The truck whipped around in who knows how many circles and came to an abrupt stop embedded into the steel guard rails. At a moment like that, I was in complete shock and dazed. I don’t recall how the ambulance got there, but my first words were, “is anybody hurt in the other vehicle?” The minivan was driven by a woman, probably in her 30’s and she had a younger child with her. We all walked away from it with a few scratches and whip lash. “Thank you, Jesus.”
So, what many people don’t know is what had been happening in my life at that time. I was pregnant a couple months prior to this, but had lost my baby. That is a grief I do not wish upon anyone. After the confirmation of no heart beat, with ultra sound, I was told to go home, and allow nature to run its course. I would birth the baby at home. I’d been through hours of unexpected labor years earlier, so I knew what I was in for. Severe depression struck. I could not comprehend why I was told to birth a dead baby. I was by no means near a full term pregnancy, but it was the thought that tortured me. On one hand, I wasn’t ready to let go, I wanted a little more time with my precious baby even if he was gone. But, after five long weeks and not even a twitch in my body, I knew this baby was going no where. A surgery date was made and as I waited, I decided to go back to work.
As terrified as I was to face the world, knowing I was carrying my secret bundle of love inside me, I had to get some amount of normalcy back. As I drove the Chevy towards town, my mind went through every possible scenario of questions I might be asked when I return to work. I wouldn’t know how to answer; how to explain that my belly still holds the baby that was supposed to be. What if I began cramping at work? What if labor signs began in the middle of a customer interaction? Would I ever hold a child? Am I being punished for my sins? My heart is literally breaking and my sorrow is so deep… I was lost. I was lost in thought and grief, unaware of my surroundings. I saw the stop sign and a dump truck making its turn past me. It seemed like a good time to enter the intersection… it wasn’t. Had the impact been only a couple inches further, there could’ve been a gas explosion. I was saved again.
There are many ways to interpret how and why this all happened. A couple things that still remain clear to me are:
1) Maybe God took my baby to spare me the pain and extreme guilt that would’ve came if the baby died in the accident.
2) I felt my moms love deepen for me when she realized she could’ve lost me.
To all of the women out there who feel they can’t face another battle; you are wrong! You are a survivor, a warrior… there is nothing you can’t do. Count your blessings and know that they are well deserved. Box of Shame: A Memoir of Addiction, Survival, and Forgiveness, is available on Amazon in paperback, hardcover and E-book. Also available at some local stores and from myself.
Comments