“911, what’s your emergency?”
Ten days into the new year I sat, talking through tears, hair still wet from practice, wedged between the icy highway and the on-ramp in my totaled car.
My voice trembled, “Hi, I just got hit by a semi-truck going west on I-94.”
Minutes before the call, lights had blinded me through my driver’s side mirror as the semi-truck slid into my car. The hit tore control from my hands and sent me spinning through the snow. The impact splintered the windshield, blew the hood into the road, and caved in the doors, jolting me forward so hard that my feet shot past the pedals.
To say this past year was hard would be an understatement. Until junior year, I sat comfortably with the fact that I was able to control every aspect of my life. But after the start of last year, I steered through tough classes and demanding swim practices, which gave me a sense of control as the toughest demand of all — my brother’s delicate health and his need for a new heart — threatened to crash into my carefully driven life. I drove as smoothly as I could through these weeks, and kept everyone at school believing the lie I told myself every day: that I was okay.
My need for control became so powerful that I obsessed over my diet, social life, and school work to not face how lonely I felt. Every day felt like a ticking time bomb. A phone call could set it off. I was losing touch with what my life had become. I overthought, overanalyzed, and overplanned. The car crash snapped me out of this: what was I doing? Because I was in survival mode, I finally let go of my obsession with control — and in doing so, I learned to face my sadness and fear with acceptance rather than avoidance.
Post-crash, I built a new mindset around gratitude and acceptance. What had felt like annoying questions about my brother, I learned to see as others’ empathy toward my family. In the endless meals and kind notes on my doorstep, friends who saved me from my thoughts, and people’s daily prayers, I learned that there’s so much to gain from letting go. Letting go of fears; letting go of worries; letting go of control.
In one year, I learned more about myself than I had in the previous sixteen. Instead of always planning for the next meet, the next test, or the next group dinner, I focused on appreciating what I was doing in the moment. I learned to take small victories over big ones. To focus on the present. The outcome of this paradigm shift was the best swim season I’d ever had, a best friend who held my hand each step of the way, and a gratitude for life I’ve never known. Warm hugs, deep conversations, and quality time mean more to me now than a Google Calendar date or chemistry grade. That year didn’t break me — it shaped me. No matter how fast life wants to move, the momentary grace of what’s around me is a gift too precious to overlook.
