Monday, July 6, 2026
Today is a new day, although not much has changed physically. I woke up with my leg still banged up, and I don’t plan on leaving the house. Getting around is difficult right now, so today feels like another day of healing.
I’m going to pick up where I left off yesterday.
Eleven days ago, I drank Fireball and got behind the wheel. I totaled our family’s Toyota RAV4—the car my husband’s inheritance from his mother helped us buy. It wasn’t just a vehicle. It was my dream car. We actually had two vehicles, but we rarely drove the second one because the RAV4 was so reliable, comfortable, and big enough for all of us.
When Miles told me at the hospital that the car couldn’t be saved, I was still coming down from the Fireball. To be honest, losing the car wasn’t even the biggest thing I was facing at that moment.
I was about to go to jail.
Alcohol didn’t make me feel invincible—it convinced me I was. Looking back now, I cringe at who I became that night. I was disorderly. I cursed at the police officers who were simply doing their jobs. I was someone I didn’t recognize.
I certainly wasn’t the daughter my mother raised.
After the doctors confirmed I didn’t have any broken bones, the reality of what had happened slowly started sinking in. Looking back, I realize just how incredibly lucky I was.
I wasn’t wearing a seat belt.
The windows were rolled down.
The moonroof was open.
I had music blasting, and if I know myself at all, I was probably enjoying the wind blowing through my hair. I don’t remember any of it, but I know that’s exactly how I loved to drive when I was by myself.
After the crash, they couldn’t even get the vehicle to start again, much less roll the windows back up.
I keep thinking about all the ways that night could have ended differently.
I could have gone over an embankment.
I could have hit another vehicle.
I could have taken someone’s life.
I could have lost my own.
Instead, I’m here.
Bruised. Sore. Ashamed. Grateful.
As hard as it is to admit, I thank God every day that no one else was hurt because of my decision. That thought will stay with me for the rest of my life.
That night didn’t end at the hospital.
That night, I went to jail.
And that’s where tomorrow’s story begins.
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