Week 7: The Impossible Life: Weekly Reflections on Faith, Pain, and Triumph

Week 7: Head High, Heart Heavy

By Elizabeth M. Ford

A Life Like a Movie

People often ask me how I turned out the way I did. They say things like, “Your life is like a movie.” And honestly, sometimes it has felt that way. But not in the glamorous sense. More like scenes written with pain, survival, and impossible choices.

One of those scenes is still burned into my memory.

I was around sixteen years old. My mother had kicked me out of the house again. She was always mad at me for something I had done wrong. We had fought that day. She screamed and I was told to leave.

At that point, I had already dropped out of high school. I started walking up Reston Parkway, heading to Chili’s Bar and Grill where I worked. That was also where my friends usually hung out and also worked. I was angry and overwhelmed. I had so much on my mind, I did not even notice what was around me as I crossed the road.

I was not using the crosswalk. I walked between cars and stepped out into the right-hand turning lane without looking.

The Moment Everything Stopped

I never saw the car coming.

I only remember the impact. It was instant. And then I was sliding across the asphalt, my back, legs and arms all scraping against the hot asphalt gravel. It felt like an eternity.

Then everything went still.

I could not feel my body. Not a single part of me.

But I could feel fear. My eyes opened but nothing moved. I was in full physical shock.

People started running around me. I heard voices, all talking at once. The woman who hit me was screaming. I remember her yelling that she did not see me. My pager was going off nonstop, beeping like a metronome measuring the seconds of chaos.

She spoke to me, or maybe I spoke first, I do not remember. But I managed to say two words. Help me.

I was still frozen. Numb everywhere. No pain yet. Just stillness.

By the time the ambulance arrived, some of my friends had shown up and they called my mom.

No Tears for Me

At the hospital, my mother showed up and she ignored me.

She sat there because she had to, not because she wanted to. There were no tears. No concern. Just presence. Silent and cold.

I was treated for whiplash in my neck, and had cuts from the street up and down my arms, legs, and back. I later learned I was thrown some many feet into the middle of the intersection off the windsheild of this car. But I was not released into my mother’s arms.

She still did not want me.

So I went to my friend’s house to stay the night, and I got high.

Not to party. Not to escape. Just to not feel anything from the throbbing pain all over my body. I could not even turn my head all the way without shooting pain and stiffness. I do not even know if the hospital offered me pain medication because they spoke to my mother, not me. I just remember being released and knowing I had nowhere to go.

A Cry Dressed in Anger

My "who cares" attitude was never really anger. It was a cry. It was me screaming inside, “Why do you not want me?”

But I never let anyone know how much that night hurt. I held my head high through all of it. I laughed with friends and acted like it was no big deal. But inside, I was broken. I was in physical pain and I was in emotional pain.

And that night, through all the chaos, I made a decision that still shapes me to this day.

You can either submit to your sorrow

Or you can walk through it.

This Week’s Truth: Someone Not Loving You Is Not Always Your Fault

I am not saying getting high is the answer. That night, it was just a response to being hit by a car and not knowing what even a tylenol was as we didn't have this when I was growing up. And having nowhere else to turn, my heart was hurting as much or more than the cuts all over my body did.

What I am saying is this.

Someone not loving you the way they should is not always your fault.

And if it is not your fault, then it does not have to define you.

Overcomer Challenge

1. Think of a moment in your life when you were rejected or unloved. Write it out. Let it breathe. Forgive them. You don't have to go to them, but forgive so you can heal.

2. Underneath that moment, write this truth: I was still worthy then. I am still worthy now.

3. Take a deep breath and say out loud, I will make it.

Final Words

Sometimes the world tells us to be strong and move on, but healing takes more than silence. It takes truth. It takes a choice to stand up, even when everything around you says stay down.

If someone who was supposed to love you did not, please hear me. That is not the end of your story. You can write a new chapter. And you can do it with your head held high.

Until next week,

Elizabeth M. Ford

Survivor. Fighter. Worthy.