If you've spoken to me for even two seconds this year, I'm sure that I've mentioned that I got hit by a truck in February. If, by some miracle, I did not bring it up, I did write a post soon afterwards, telling the story of that day, with no details about the aftermath.

Well, it's been six months since then. I bought and broke a whole new car, I learned how to drive manual, I've even come around to keeping random items in said car. The insurance companies have come to their conclusions, and I've learnt to manage my anxieties.

Shortly after the crash, the police and ambulance rocked up. Everyone involved in the collision was told to swap details. They insisted that I go in the ambulance to the hospital to check everything was fine. So, the towing man helped me grab all the essential things from my car while I filled out some paperwork. Luckily, I was headed home for a few days, so I had an overnight bag packed, ready to grab.

I don't like to carry a handbag, and my phone tap to pay didn't work back then, so at that point, I used to keep my EFTPOS card in the back of my phone case. I took my phone case off when I put my phone in the holder for the trip home, and long story short, I lost my EFTPOS card. It would have expired 10 days later, but my mum had it cancelled just in case. It takes time for a new card to get processed. So for a week or so, I lived off of some cash, like a caveman. Regardless, the EFTPOS card was the last thing on my mind.

Luckily, and unluckily, my fears faced me, through the driver's side window of a little blue Peugeot 206. R.I.P Chelsea.

Truthfully, at that point, there wasn't much on my mind at all. It didn't feel real. I didn't even really cry that day or the day following. I teared up here and there, but it was honestly a blur of sorting things out and re-telling the event to everyone who asked. I went to sleep that night expecting to wake up and find it was just a vivid dream.

I've experienced a lot of dissociation in my time. To some people, 'dissociation' is just a mental health buzzword thrown around online. In my case, it's a state that my mind goes into when something happens that I can't emotionally handle. It is safe mode. It is survival mode. But when it wears off, I have to feel everything that was blocked. So, naturally, the few months following the accident were filled with jitters, upset stomachs, tears and brain-scrambling anxiety.

My Dad's best friend lives in Sydney and was pretty close, so she came to meet me at the hospital and took me back to her place afterwards. They did the basic checks on me while I was in the hallway because the hospital was overcrowded. I opted out of seeing a doctor because honestly, being in a crowded hospital in the middle of a pandemic waiting around only to inevitably be told that I'm fine didn't sound too fun for me. I just wanted to go home. Meanwhile, Dad spent his day driving to Sydney.

About a week later, I took the train after work to meet Dad and my brother, Dylan in Cronulla, to pick up a new car. I've talked about it in a past post, but my phone and laptop went flat on the way there, so it was just me and my camera and a place I'd never been for the few hours before dad and Dylan arrived. The car is a manual, so I couldn't drive it back to Wollongong myself. Dad taught me the basics of how to drive it in a day. It was very stressful.

After that, it was just practice. Unfortunately, I managed to break an engine mount at some point, so the engine was left swinging back and forth every time I touched the pedals. Trying to drive with that engine mount was like trying to learn to walk with a broken knee. So, after the ever allusive Peugeot spare part was found, the car got fixed. Then began the several month-long journey of learning to drive again. Both in terms of mastering the mechanics of driving a manual - and combatting my own anxieties.

So for a week or so, I lived off of some cash, like a caveman.