Silver Linings of Being Hit by a Bus (Part 2)

In Part 1 of this series, I explained that it took a really long time, but some silver linings did finally emerge from getting hit by a city bus in 2008. (You can learn more about the accident in the “Local Woman Hit By Bus” series.)

The bus accident and its fallout taught me a great deal about who I was. It also provided me with an opportunity to reflect and gain insight into how I’d become that person. Taking stock like this in some areas of life was far from comfortable, and it became evident that new ways of thinking and being were needed.  

Unlearning a Myth

In Part 1, I discussed how the bus accident motivated me to become a physically active person invested in their health and well-being. My transformation into an outdoorsy and fit person was a stark contrast to how inactive my life was before the accident. Aside from having a bustling service industry job, I did very little to stay fit or healthy.

Not only did I lack any sort of exercise regiment, I actually thought I loathed physical exertion. Before the bus accident, there was only one activity that I was willing to sweat for by choice, which was going out dancing at raves and clubs. But this impression I didn’t enjoy movement was false, and the immense joy I experienced while bopping around dance floors at raves and hip-hop clubs was my first clue. Today, I am an avid hiker and cyclist who appreciates many other forms of movement, like qigong, yoga, and swimming. I also make it to the gym regularly to keep up with weight lifting and circuit training.

This significant shift in my identity, how I viewed my body’s abilities, and the satisfaction I felt when in motion begs the question: Where did this mistaken impression that I hate physical movement originate?

The answer is as simple as two words: gym class.          

Let it suffice to say that the recurring humiliation I endured as an overweight kiddo in a teeny-tiny town’s physical fitness program was a clear turn-off to all things physical from an early age. I purposely “forgot” my uniform at home on gymnastics days. I began to view all of the activities as stupid and beneath me so it was more convincing (to myself and others) when I acted like it didn’t bother me to be the last one picked by either captain when the class split up into teams. I would sometimes pretend I was sick and miss school entirely to avoid having to run the mile with my classmates, who offered snickers and comments as they awaited my finish. Even imagining that track and the final lap with 20+ adolescent eyes trained on me makes me cringe.

But yeah, anyway—it turns out that I don’t hate physical activity. Becoming someone so incredibly active, as discussed in Part 1, made me realize how much I let the bullying of my peers throughout adolescence impact my understanding of myself and create the false belief that I didn’t like movement or exercise at all. That turns out to have just been an aversion to being perceived while performing physical acts as a result of trauma.

Though I am working to overcome it, this avoidance of using my body in front of others continues to be a part of my internal wiring. It doesn’t typically impact me with hiking or biking, though I sometimes get self-conscious when struggling up hills. But class settings, like hitting up a yoga studio, remain touchy for me even though I’m familiar with the poses and confident that no one is there to pay attention to me, let alone make fun of me!

While I wish I’d never developed such an extreme sense of body shame and self-consciousness, I’m grateful that I became aware of its existence within me. I’m even more appreciative that I was able to tear down this arbitrary barrier to physical movement and overcome my aversion enough to take care of my body so it could heal and recover from the accident.

The necessary mindset shift that made this possible was fueled by my desire to escape ongoing chronic pain and avoiding back surgery. But eventually I reached a point where physical activity genuinely brought me joy and happiness. Who knows whether I ever would have expanded my definition of who I am in this way without the impetus of that dang bus? So, again, like I said last time: thanks, bus…I guess?