How a seat belt changed my life.

Buckle Up Buttercup

The summer before my Junior year of high school I was in the back seat of a Pontiac Grand Am on a hot August day with 4 friends on our way to a rodeo. My cousin, the driver, had just picked up the last passenger and we were heading down a narrow two-lane road. It's worth mentioning that we're in relatively rural South Dakota - we're gun toting, beer drinking, jitterbug dancing fools - and we don't always (ever) follow the rules of the road.

I was sitting in the middle of the back seat with a cute boy on my left and a sweet girlfriend on my right. In the front, besides the driver, was a fellow classmate. As we barreled down the road, I voiced to the driver that there was a hair-pin turn coming up and to slow down. He, unfortunately, learned that I was right a little too late. The car left the road at about 60mph, crossed a ditch, hit a tree, went through a fence and landed on the other side of a creek with the nose of the car buried into the creek bank. I was not wearing a seat belt and my body landed about half-way out the front windshield laying over the center console and dashboard just inches from the creek water running by.

I'd taken out the dome light and rear view mirror but came out mostly on the passenger side of the windshield. I was bruised, broken and very bloody but alert. I had just gotten my braces off and was certain that I'd knocked my front teeth crooked again but it turns out it was just fabric from the roof of the car in my teeth. I was taken by ambulance to a hospital to be treated for severe lacerations to my face and body, significant loss of blood and several cracked bones.

At some point before my body left in the ambulance, I remember watching the entire scene from above it. I saw the driver sitting, stunned and in shock. I saw my friend sitting rocking herself on the other side of the road because she hated the sight of blood. I saw the front passenger walking around yelling that we needed to call his uncle who lived down the road and could be there in a few minutes. I saw my boyfriend sitting beside my body lying on the road trying to shield my face from the blistering sun saying it was going to be okay, over and over and over. I saw paramedics load me onto a stretcher and put me into an ambulance and take me away but that's the last memory I have of watching myself. Everything after just hurt.

Miraculously, and only by the grace of God, I lived. To this day I remember the entire event as if it were a dream and, if not for the major scaring on my face, I might not believe it was even real.

What was VERY real was the overwhelming and nearly debilitating anxiety and PTSD that rushed through my body every time I needed to get into a car. If the driver braked a little too hard or a little too late, my heart would race. If the driver took a corner too fast, I panicked and grabbed the door handle to brace. And forget about me sitting in the back seat of a car - not going to happen. I did, however, begin wearing my seat belt at ALL times, but it did nothing for the mental game that I had to play every time I opened the car door.

I spent a full year being very sick, having multiple surgeries and recovering. I developed migraine headaches, tested positive for Mononucleosis twice in the same year. I was persistently anemic and had iron deficiencies from the blood loss. A few months later, after repeated episodes of loss of consciousness, it was determined I was having petite mal seizures and began taking medication to control them. I remember laying on the couch with bandages covering scars on my face and neck in excruciating pain while my sweet brother sat at the other end of the couch and rubbed my feet for hours - it was the only place on my body that didn't have something broken or bandaged. I could no longer do any of the things I had before; I put my barrel horse out to pasture, I couldn't drive myself anywhere, I couldn't take a real shower, I couldn't even go to a full day of school and had to start doing half-days just so I could continue to recover. I slept on a twin bed in my parents' room for what felt like forever so that if something happened in the middle of the night, they were close by. I had such bad scaring on my face that I remember taking a washcloth and using only the tip to wipe areas of my face that weren't stitched or covered. In fact, the scars also created a really adorable double-chin (I didn’t need any help but the scars line up perfectly to expose one at all times). I had terrifying nightmares about the accident. I would toss and turn in my sleep screaming for the driver to slow down or stop but always woke up right before my face would hit the windshield.

Looking back, this is also when I first experienced depression along with the PTSD. Every season has a reason and perhaps NOW I’m learning the reason for that challenge. You grow through what you go through.

It's been more than 20 years and I still don't like the back seat of a car unless I can clearly see the road, and I still get anxious if someone is driving too fast or recklessly.  Wear your seat belt my friends!

This is a story that forever changed my life, no doubt. I’m still working on the courage to share a story of deep pain and untold damage to my my mental health, my physical health, and my ability to love an trust myself. Maybe one day. In the meantime, remember that PTSD can come from a variety of events; severe injury, loss of a loved one, being a victim of a crime, natural disasters or assault. Unpacking the trauma with a coach and hard work that I’m STILL doing every day creates a better tomorrow for me. If you’re ready to do the work, I’m ready.