Trauma has a way of embedding itself deep within us, not just in our minds but in our very cells. As Bessel van der Kolk so aptly explains in The Body Keeps the Score, the physical body carries the echoes of past experiences, even when the conscious mind cannot recall them. I understood this concept intellectually, but it wasn’t until a serious accident that I truly experienced it.
Life has a way of teaching us the lessons we need most. When we are disconnected, we often fail to notice them, unable or unwilling to pay attention. And so, those lessons persist, growing louder and presenting themselves in different forms until we are ready to listen and learn.
Unbeknownst to me then, this same lesson would pop up again a year or so later in a different way, when I was unexpectedly reunited with Katy-Kopy Kat, a much loved doll lost on the airplane crash. I share the experience in my new e-book, ‘When I’m Gone: Reclaiming Safety, Trust & Hope after Trauma. -A Shameless plug – I know right! It’s due for release 2nd Feb – available on Amazon.
I digress.
I’d had a great day having collected two new computers for our upcoming silver surfers project at A Positive Start when we were starting out at Liddesdale Road. It was all very exciting. I’d set the PCs up and then enjoyed a productive meeting with the lovely Mary Hemingway, a financial advisor and friend, joined by my husband Andrew who, as always had come along straight after work to offer his support.
As Andrew and I headed home that evening in our separate vehicles. I was ahead of my husband, as I waited in the middle of the road to turn my car into our driveway, a speeding van lost control and ploughed into me at over 60 miles per hour. The force of the impact crushed my car and sent me spinning down the road. During the chaos, my head smashed against the metal hook of the car seat, causing a serious head injury and knocking me unconscious.
Unbeknownst to me at the time, a lorry driver who had witnessed the accident sprang into action. Seeing the danger, he parked his truck across the road to shield me from oncoming traffic. Crawling into the tiny, crumpled space at the back of my car, he held my head, which was bleeding heavily. While the fire service closed the road and worked to cut me free, this young man stayed with me, holding my head steady and speaking to me softly for hours. I remember none of it, but my husband, Andrew, who witnessed the accident, and was in complete shock told me how this stranger had shown such care and courage in the moments that followed.
After being rushed by ambulance to the Borders General Hospital, and put back together by the amazing staff in A&E, I was eventually discharged. I was resting at home, physically bruised and emotionally fragile. I still had no memory of the accident or the young man who had stayed by my side, but the shock of what had happened lingered in my body.
One afternoon, as I sat in the living room, I noticed a flash of yellow hi-vis pass by the window. I wasn’t expecting any visitors, and I didn’t recognize the figure walking up the path. But when the man stepped inside and spoke, I was overwhelmed by a surge of emotion I couldn’t explain.
I had no conscious memory of him, but the moment he spoke, my body remembered. Tears welled in my eyes, and gratitude poured out of me as I realised this was the young truck driver, Cammy who had stayed with me during the accident. Somehow, his voice had etched itself into me, even though my mind had no recollection.
We talked, and I learned more about the kindness and calm he had offered me in the chaos. It was humbling and awe-inspiring to realize how deeply we can be impacted by someone’s care, even when we aren’t fully present to experience it in the moment.
The Power of Connection
This experience reminded me of the remarkable connection between the mind and body. The body doesn’t forget. It holds memories of pain, fear, and, as I learned, even comfort and safety. That truck driver’s voice, his presence, had been a lifeline for me, and though I couldn’t remember it consciously, my body had held on to the feeling of being cared for in a moment of crisis.
This isn’t just the body keeping the score—it’s the body keeping the moments that matter. It holds the fears and the gratitude, the wounds and the healing. And in moments like this, it reveals just how much of our story is stored within us, waiting to be uncovered when we’re ready.
Thank you for taking time today to read a a little bit about my experience, I hope you found it interesting. If you enjoyed reading this and would like to read more – you can pick up a copy of my ebook on Amazon, due for release on 2nd February, pre-order your copy here. 👇