Name: Susanna Larsen
From: Adair Village, Oregon
Votes: 0
I
remember feeling the heat on my face and seeing my arm lay at an
unnatural angle next to me. The door not opening and the panicking. I
remember watching the smoke tendrils curl in the air and the burning
feeling on my face from the airbag. Soon, my coherent thoughts were
overshadowed by the pain, but I’d come to realize this situation
would alter my life. While the EMT’s were assessing my injuries,
all I could think about was how wrong the situation was.
I’m
a planner. I plan my day, my week, my future. I focus my time and
energy on keeping my grades high, and preparing for equestrian
competitions in the spring, which will help me join an equestrian
team in college. Completely shattering my arm and my dreams in a car
crash was not part of the plan.
My
dominant arm was unusable for months. Taking time to recover from
surgery caused me to fall behind in school. I had panic attacks when
in a car, much less driving myself places like I used to. I struggled
with losing my independence. I lost much of what I defined myself by.
You
never know what will happen in a minute, an hour, a day. This was one
of the many lessons I contemplated during my hours of laying around
trying not to jostle my arm. I had to figure out who I was when I
could not bury myself in my horse riding and schoolwork. Much of the
time, I felt like I was fighting myself. Dealing with physical pain
felt overwhelming so how could I deal with the mental trauma? What if
I had left the house five minutes earlier? What if someone else had
been driving? All the what if’s piled up.
I
came to the conclusion that none of this paranoia would help my
situation. Instead, I shared my story. I told my peers what had
happened and used my experience as a warning to fellow drivers. I
encouraged my classmates to overcome our generation’s common “pack
mentality”. If others can drive distracted, it should be fine if I
do that too, right? No. It’s never okay, never worth it. The
consequences are serious and we need to do the kind thing, holding
each other accountable. Through my pain, all this difficulty, I found
a newfound piece of my identity: the power of being an advocate. I
can’t change my past, but I can help someone write a better future
for themselves.
Nearly
dying in that car crash is still too recent for me to be thankful for
it happening, but I am thankful for the perspective it’s given me
and the pieces of myself I found through it. Losing parts of my
identity gave me the opportunity to find new things to define myself
by. I found a passion for educating others on the consequences of
distracted driving, making an impact on an immense problem of my
generation.
