How many times have you been told, or even told someone to “Let go, and let God” “Forgive and Forget” or “In order to move forward with your life, you have to let go of the past?” I know for sure that I have said all three of these statements and other renditions of them to my loved ones or even random people who I meet and converse with. It’s much easier to give this advice out than to do it yourself.
I typically remember EVERYTHING. I mean everything down to the time it happened, where it happened, and what I was wearing when it happened. With that being said, the whole forgetting portion of “forgive and forget” is tough for me. Lately I’ve realized one of the reasons forgetting is difficult for me is the trauma that came along with that moment.
On May 11, 2017, during my second pregnancy, I was involved in a hit-and-run accident. It was three days away from Mother’s Day, and I was four days away from being five months pregnant. It was raining, and I was on my way to pick my daughter up from her aftercare program. If you know me, you know that I’m pretty much late for everything so I made sure I left out in enough time to not drive crazy in the rain. I was five minutes away from my house when I stopped at a red light. I was in the right, turning lane, but still had to wait til the oncoming traffic ceased in order to go. As I began to turn my car, an off-white Chrysler 300 slammed into the back of me forcing me to turn the corner. Just as I put my car in park, the man driving the car backed up from the rear of my car and drove off. My heart was racing as I did my best to study his license plate and dial 911. I was in total disbelief. My car was fast enough to track him down, but it was raining and who was I to chase a man down who hit someone and drove off without a care? I would be putting myself in more danger. I have asthma so I did my best to keep my breathing under control, which was a struggle.
I began to panic because I couldn’t feel any pain and I thought that the adrenaline pumping through my body was covering the damage that had been done to my unborn child. There were other cars around during the incident, but only one guy stopped to help me. His name was Angel, he gave me all of his information and offered to stay until help arrived, but I told him thank you and he could leave. I didn’t want him to stay out in the rain, and to be honest I’m not that great at receiving help and support from total strangers. I hate feeling like a burden.
At this point, I’m holding back tears. After getting off the phone with police dispatch, I call my mother-in-law, tell her what happened and asked her to go pick up my daughter instead. Once the officer arrived I broke down. I told him, “I don’t know what to do! I’m four months pregnant and that man hit me!” He told me to calm down, we drove to a residential parking lot nearby and he proceeded to help. I gave him the license plate number and he went to search for it. While he did that, I called my insurance and gave them the rundown. Simultaneously, the insurance representative and officer told me that the plates had to be fake or not registered because nothing came back for them. I was devastated.
My husband was the last person I contacted. He was driving over the road at this point and I didn’t want him to hear me in the mist of my ugly cry. When I told him he was so hurt. “Are you okay? Is the baby ok? Where’s Taniya? Was she in the car? Did you call the hospital? What did the dude look like? What direction was he driving in? You need to go to the hospital!” and then we ended our conversation. He needed some time to digest the fact that his pregnant wife had just been involved in an accident and he was nowhere near. He didn’t have control over the situation so his go to was, tell me what he looks like so that I can find him when I get home. I’ll take care of it. At that point, I was all game. Usually I don’t want him to be my bodyguard, but in that moment, I wanted my husband to demolish the man who put me and my girls in danger. All I could think about is my daughter being in the back of the car if it had happened 45 minutes later, and that I would possibly see blood in my underwear later as a sign of my baby being hurt during the accident. Thank God my daughter wasn’t in the car, thank God the baby and I were fine, and thank God there was no damage done to our car. God really works. The bumper of our car should have been a mess, but it wasn’t.
I have to go through that light every day. And each time I’m staring in the rear-view mirror paranoid that someone will slam into the back of our car. Every time I see a white or off-white Chrysler I’m staring to see if it’s THE car. That accident was ruling my life. I just couldn’t come to terms with how that man could have ruined my life that evening, and he drove off and went on with his life.
Well, I got what I wanted. I was sitting at the light on the opposite end headed home with my girls in the back and I saw the car. His light was green so as he drove past I still attempted to catch the numbers on his license plate, but couldn’t get the last few because of the other cars around him. I couldn’t run the red light to catch him either. That was my moment to get justice for what he had done to me mentally and emotionally. So many thoughts ran through my mind. If I could just see where he lived, my husband could beat the crap out of him once he got home from work. If I could get his license plate I could report him to the police and they could get him for what he had done. If I could just have one civilized conversation with him, I would tell him how he could have taken the life of myself and my unborn child had that accident been any worse. But I had to sit at that red light and watch him get away AGAIN.
It was in that moment where I realized it was time for me to let go. There will be many times in life where someone will do me wrong and I will not be able to do a thing about it. It’s totally out of my control. I felt weak all over again watching that man drive past me, and I didn’t want to feel that way again. I’m over here distraught while he’s driving around without a care in the world. God blessed me the day of that accident regardless of the pain I endured so I knew that it was not my job to deal with that man, it was God’s. I felt my baby’s first kicks three days later on Mother’s Day. My baby told me she was ok. Why do we have to deal with the initial hurt of the situation as well as the pain you feel as you are healing and letting go?
To whomever is reading this post and is holding onto hurt, I pray for your release. It’s not easy, but it’s worth it. For your sanity. For your future. For your loved ones. True healing and letting go of that hurt gives you your power back.
Let go Queen…