Living Outside the Lines: “My Dirty Little Secret”

By, Becky J Miller

In the November 19 Living Outside the Lines column, I shared “The Story of a Warrior Princess” my account of surviving a horrific car accident. Although the tale is one of triumph, it is also one of enduring hardships.

Since one lone column cannot sufficiently cover all the intricate details of my recovery, this column delves more into the emotional obstacles of that journey.  What follows are the words written just a few short months after the actual event.

“Thirteen weeks ago my world and body were literally shattered when an 18 wheeler plowed into the vehicle I was riding in.  The days since the accident have been a tumultuous mix of joy and pain.  There have been days of joyous celebration over recovery milestones paired with angry tears shed over the changes inflicted by the carelessness of another.

My physical body has healed beautifully. Other than the scars that now mar my previously unblemished skin, there are no visual reminders of the trauma.  My emotional recovery however, is rather schizophrenic. 

One minute I am going about my business and the very next I am sobbing over accident related circumstances.  This emotional roller coaster is generally triggered by something I am currently unable to do, something I am forced to do, or disappointment over the drain on our finances.  In those moments of frustration, my dirty little secret bubbles to the top; I haven’t forgiven the truck driver.

Never during the ordeal have I been angry with God, I have no reason to be; He preserved not only my life and my ability to walk, but also my family.  The truck driver though, now that is a very different story.

From my perspective he walked away from the accident a free man; no debilitating injuries to recover from, no astronomical medical bills, no loss of pay, no loss of freedom, no ugly scars to look at, no physical therapy, no chronic pain, NOTHING.  The truth is though; I really don’t know anything about the driver.  Maybe he is remorseful, maybe he lost his job, or maybe he is plagued by nightmarish replays of the moment of impact.

Nevertheless, at my weakest moment, I want vengeance, I want justice, and I want him to pay for what I consider a crime!  No doubt this confession will meet with shocked gasps of horror from some folks, others might just wish to chastise me for speaking out.

The good news is that I understand vengeance belongs to God, not Becky.  Justice? Not my job either.  Now forgiveness? That one is solely mine.  I can choose to own it, or live the rest of my life hindered by my lack thereof.

I would love to end this post with a fairy tale happy ending, but that would be a lie.  I’m walking through this, and right now I’m still angry over the circumstances one man’s carelessness thrust upon me.

My hope is that one day the sight of scars on my forehead, neck and shoulder, the pain of changing clothes, or my inability to run at top form will no longer bring me to tears and that I will be able to breath the words, “I forgive” and truly mean them.”

Over four years have passed since the accident.  The scars on my body are barely visible now; I would have to point them out in order for anyone to notice them.  Except for the slightly limited mobility in my neck, my body has returned to all of its pre-accident capability, even my running abilities have surpassed where I was in 2011.

As for the mental anguish, that too has long since passed.  The driver was careless, that fact remains, but I no longer want to snarl or gnash my teeth over his actions.  To borrow an old marketing slogan, “You’ve Come a Long Way Baby”, and I truly have.

Until Next Time,

Becky J Miller

“Warrior Princess”