Ah, yes. The motorcycle talk. It's not fair that I hate them so much now. It's not fair that my body cringes when I see one or see a helmet or even hear one. It's not fair that tears stream down my face when I just imagine my boyfriend riding one now. Just imagining him in a helmet sends me into a wave of panic. It's not fair that just hearing about my friends riding makes me sick to my stomach. I hear it and immediately put up a wall. "Don't get close, Erica. You might get hurt. They might die". It's not fair that when I make future plans, I think
"unless we die". It's not fair that when my boyfriend says "that always reminds me of you", I say "good. if I die, you'll have something to always think of me". It's not fair that everytime I see a motorcycle I see HeeJun in the casket, his neck all swollen and makeup cracked. Dead. Dead. Dead.
"unless we die". It's not fair that when my boyfriend says "that always reminds me of you", I say "good. if I die, you'll have something to always think of me". It's not fair that everytime I see a motorcycle I see HeeJun in the casket, his neck all swollen and makeup cracked. Dead. Dead. Dead.
I hear the arguments, "you can't live your life in fear" or "you could get hit by a bus tomorrow and die" or "at least he died happy" and I cry BULLSHIT! Motorcycles are dangerous, but also I have a valid excuse to be terrified of them. Trauma can mess you up. And I know, I know, I know HeeJun would have much rather lived, then "died happy". If we had known...if he had known...
It's not fair, but such is my life.
4 comments:
I had this "it's not fair" day yesterday. All of the sudden I was going over everything again, and the "it's not fairs" just started. I kinda hate those days! HUGS!!!!
I lost my husband three months ago. He was a motorcycle officer killed in the line of duty. He was in pursuit of four suspects, he collided with a big rig, he was killed instantly, and his motorcycle was burned beyond recognition. His helmet was completely destroyed and was ripped from his head. Though, through all the trauma brought on by this, it is not the motorcycle or the helmet that tear me apart, it is the big rig. Every time I see a J.B. Hunt truck, I well up and the accident plays in my mind over and over again. Perhaps it is that he loved that motorcycle and his job only second to his family. And, while I'm positive that he would have preferred to be with his family until he was 100+, he would not have been true to himself, to who he was. I truly empathize with you and only hope that you may one day find some peace.
No, it really isn't fair.
If people understood the reactions that the talk about and the sight of a motorcycle trigger in you - in your head, your heart and your guts - they would be less inclined to say the crass things that they do. But unless they know those feelings for themselves they cannot truly understand. And all you can do is protect yourself by keeping away and avoiding as much as you can.
It isn't fair at all.
I've been the one who often says to my mom, "you can't think that way," but you're right, trauma messes you up. My mom is still petrified that if I were to ever move home, that something would inevitably happen to me just like it happened to my sister and somehow - it would be her fault. There's nothing anyone can say to someone who's been hurt at such a deep level. We want to fix things, but they're permanently broken from what we thought they would be. That doesn't mean we can't grow, but there will always be a scar.
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