Telling it
In my line of work one of the bits of advice we give people who have been through anything traumatic is this: tell your story to the people who care about you and get their permission to tell it over and over again. Telling the story helps to reduce the impact it has - almost as though the negative energy of a trauma is released into the air with every telling of it.
I have something I need to tell. It wasn't a huge big deal trauma, certainly less of a thing than many of you have recently gone through in your own lives, but it was traumatic all the same and the negative energy of it is making me edgy. So I'm going to tell you my traumatic thing.
It happened on Monday morning on the way to work. I was second in a pack of cyclists who had bunched up into a group two blocks earlier waiting for a light to turn green. We started across a street where we actually have the right of way - cars approaching from our right have a yield sign which includes yielding to crossing bikes.
I always take a quick look that way before I commit to the crossing of that road even though I know I have the right of way. And I sensed that a car was coming too fast. I started braking. The woman in front of me didn't notice the car.
The car hit her. Or rather, the car hit her front wheel. She pretty much dropped the bike and sort of fell off to the side on impact. I was next in line. I hit the car, but since I'd had a couple of seconds to prepare for it, it really wasn't so bad. Bikes behind me started piling up and swerving this way and that.
The guy in the car clearly had no idea that he was in the wrong. He rolled his window down so he could yell at us better. Most of the cyclists were getting their bikes back onto two wheels while yelling back at him. I just said, "Wow" two times and my ability to express myself in any language disappeared.
All of the cyclists took a long slow walk around the front of the car taking our revenge the only way we could: by making the driver sit there unable to move for as long as possible. All the while they were yelling and he was yelling and the girl who got the first impact had gotten back on her bike and pedalled off.
I wonder if she's still saying, "Wow" like I am. I wonder if she's having trouble forgetting it like I am. I hope she can talk about it to someone if she needs to. I'm glad I can.
I have something I need to tell. It wasn't a huge big deal trauma, certainly less of a thing than many of you have recently gone through in your own lives, but it was traumatic all the same and the negative energy of it is making me edgy. So I'm going to tell you my traumatic thing.
It happened on Monday morning on the way to work. I was second in a pack of cyclists who had bunched up into a group two blocks earlier waiting for a light to turn green. We started across a street where we actually have the right of way - cars approaching from our right have a yield sign which includes yielding to crossing bikes.
I always take a quick look that way before I commit to the crossing of that road even though I know I have the right of way. And I sensed that a car was coming too fast. I started braking. The woman in front of me didn't notice the car.
The car hit her. Or rather, the car hit her front wheel. She pretty much dropped the bike and sort of fell off to the side on impact. I was next in line. I hit the car, but since I'd had a couple of seconds to prepare for it, it really wasn't so bad. Bikes behind me started piling up and swerving this way and that.
The guy in the car clearly had no idea that he was in the wrong. He rolled his window down so he could yell at us better. Most of the cyclists were getting their bikes back onto two wheels while yelling back at him. I just said, "Wow" two times and my ability to express myself in any language disappeared.
All of the cyclists took a long slow walk around the front of the car taking our revenge the only way we could: by making the driver sit there unable to move for as long as possible. All the while they were yelling and he was yelling and the girl who got the first impact had gotten back on her bike and pedalled off.
I wonder if she's still saying, "Wow" like I am. I wonder if she's having trouble forgetting it like I am. I hope she can talk about it to someone if she needs to. I'm glad I can.