Whiplash

I can't remember what I've already mentioned on this blog previously in terms of what's happened in my life, but fair-warning -- this will be a bit of a rambling post.

In late August, two days before my first exam, my car was hit by a bus. I wasn't in the car when it happened that Sunday morning -- in fact, I didn't find out until I came out of the school building in the evening after studying all day. In many ways, I was lucky. I wasn't injured. My car could still run. The police had come and written up an accident report. I had the bus company's insurance information. Accidents are common in New Orleans, and more often than not, you'll end up in a hit-and-run or the person who hits you has no insurance. Despite knowing all this, when I got back to my room, I burst into tears, out of sheer stress and frustration.

It took me two months to finally track down my police accident report. Last Friday, my car was finally fixed. I'd driven my newly repaired car for less than a week when it was hit again this evening.

I was in the car this time. I'm starting to feel the effects of whiplash in my neck and shoulders. But for the most part, I'm not injured. My rear-ended car is covered with duct tape now but it still runs. I got the other person's insurance information and already filed a claim by the time I drove away from the accident site. Again, I was sort of lucky despite being unlucky. Half glass empty, half glass full. But as soon as I parked the car in front of my house, all the frustration I'd been bottling up erupted in a cryfest yet again.

Crying is a stress-reliever for me, and almost necessary for me to feel better and move on with my life. But there were a couple revelations I had in the last few hours since this accident. I've mentioned before about how I consider myself spiritual but not religious. I don't prescribe to one particular organized religion. But since college, I've come to believe that everything happens the way it's meant to happen. That there is some higher order that brings certain things into your life and takes certain things away. Some have told me they think it's a defeatist attitude, but I disagree. To me, it's a way of keeping myself mentally at peace with the outcome, because no matter what happens, you can't change the past. You can only move forward.

Even before I adopted this mindset, I was spiritual in the sense that as a young girl, I always wished to be closely attuned with the "other." I'm a logic-driven person for the most part, but I have always been curious about things such as dream interpretation, tarot, fortunes, and such. Not because I necessarily believe these things will script my future, but because I feel that paying attention can lead you to new insights you never would have noticed otherwise. This desire to seek "signs" has also aligned itself nicely with my belief of a higher order.

This same evening, I also discovered that this young man in my hometown who'd been missing since Halloween was found dead. I'd seen the missing person flyers around my newsfeed, but today was the first time I realized that one of my Facebook friends was his fraternity little brother. The man was only 3 years older than me. Moreover, before I'd driven home from school, I'd just come out of my End of Life elective where we'd discussed our last wishes -- what sort of procedures we'd want at the end of life (e.g. "Don't let me become a vegetable.") and what we'd want happen to our body (e.g. burial, cremation, donation, etc.). I'd already had the discussion with my parents before, but I'd never really thought about what I'd want for myself. It's hard to think of it seriously, because when you're young and healthy, you feel like you have so much life ahead of you.

When you're in your twenties, you don't think you could die any moment. You're so busy planning out your future career and future families that you don't think about how tenuous this present moment is. The fact that my car has been hit twice in less than three months--neither of which was my fault, but simply cases of being in the wrong place at the wrong time--is a wake-up call. Because who knows? Because third time's the charm, right? The next time my car gets hit, maybe I won't be so lucky. I read a quote somewhere once. I can't remember who said it or the exact wording, but the gist of it has stuck with me ever since. Most people don't truly live until they realize they're dying.