If I were to describe myself in one word, it would simply be “dramatic.” To paint a word picture: I was four years old and a bee landed on a flower that was on my dress. Immediately, I burst into tears. My first thought “I have to live on the swingset because the bee is going to be on me forever.” My mom had to come outside and brush it off of my dress for me, and then I made her carry me inside. And I cried at the kitchen table for 15 minutes afterwards. YOU GUYS. THE BEE DIDN’T EVEN STING ME! 0-60 on the drama.
Throughout college I was notorious for calling my dad at least once a semester in a tizzy. Panicked. Tears. Hyperventilating. “Dad, I’m gonna drop out. I can’t do this anymore. It’s so hard. I don’t think this was the right decision.” Ask him. He remembers. As I moved into adult life, the calls to my dad continued. Frazzled, tizzied, and dizzied.
And then one day, last winter, my dad received another call from me, that I think surprised him, more than most. Not the what was said, but the delivery of the message. (Because after this happened my dad said he almost didn’t believe me because I was so calm) In a 100% calm manner, my dad hears:
“Hey dad, I just drove into the ditch.”
I am not a dad. But I think those are words that most dads don’t want to hear from their kids. Especially when you’re 40 miles away from your kid and probably can’t really help them. So what changed from the girl who was held hostage by a bee to the level headed woman in the bottom of a ditch? Here is how I drove out of a ditch.
I was on a pretty tight schedule in terms of time. I was driving my little Ford Fusion, it was winter time. I hit a pot hole and ice and spun out of control, and my car went straight down into a super deep and steep ditch.
The first big change, accepting that this is going to happen. Literally as my car was spinning, I realized that my car was going to go into the ditch, I told myself, “Okay, this is happening now.” I had very little control of my car, I had no traction as I was spinning. My choices were “aim for the ditch and try to avoid hitting the sign post on my way down.” Ditches are a part of life. Accept it and control what you can control. The very few factors that you can control. And what you can control, try to make the softest landing.
Eventually my car did come to a stop at the bottom of the ditch. The problem was pretty clear, I was no longer on the road. It was just me and my car at the bottom of the ditch. No other cars on the road. So how is my little car gonna get out of the ditch? I had a few options. Option #1: Much like the bee holding me hostage on a swingset, I can live at the bottom of this ditch and be a ditch troll forever. Option #2: Try and drive out. Option #3: Wait for someone to come by and maybe they can help me. Option #4: Call someone for help. Well I figure, it’s best to at least try. So option #2. Pedal to the floor, wheels smoking, burning rubber. Guess what. IT WORKED!! (My record of not having my car get stuck since my freshman year of college continues.) When you’re in the bottom of the ditch, calmly consider your options and start trying them. If one option doesn’t work, move onto the next one. Re-evalate your choices, try again.
Because remember, you can’t be a ditch troll, and you can’t live on a swingset. It just doesn’t make any logical sense. Where will you hook up your WiFi.
I’m back on the road driving to my destination, and I realize, hey, my car is making a new noise. A noise that even the radio can’t drown out. And that’s when my dad gets the call. “Hey dad I drove into the ditch.” I needed someone to look at my car, and I was going to be going through my hometown on my way to my destination. So dad comes to the rescue by switching vehicles with me and getting someone to look at my car. I got to my destination and back home safely (and with some new tires.) After you drive out of the ditch. You gotta check in. Check in with yourself. Are you ok? Check in with others. Get the support you need. Let others know that you are ok. Let them know if they can help.
The last thing I learned, prevent yourself from going into the same ditch. It would be a shame if I found myself in the bottom of the same ditch. That’s how you become a ditch troll.
I still find myself driving into ditches as the road of life continues. And I definitely find myself going back to being the drama queen on the swingset. But even being able to handle this one ditch has given me a road map for all of life’s guaranteed ditches. Now, if only there was a way to deal with radical bees.
Because She Dared 