She Lost Control Again

When I was really little, younger than three, my mother slammed her car into a telephone pole. I was in the passenger seat (no baby car seats back then, folks!) and knocked into the dashboard. We were taken to the hospital and most of this is all a blur.

What I do know for sure is that for years after this, I would have emotional triggers when we would drive over curvy roads. The wreck happened in a very, very curvy area and most of my impressions of the situation have to do with my growing fear and dread as we would go faster and faster over those curves. I think I was close to ten before I really felt comfortable about dealing with very winding roads. Given the roads I had to travel to get to college, I'm very happy I got past this.

Now, I'm not sure about this next part. It's one of those things that maybe I kind of knew but no one ever talked about. It's one of those things that went totally unspoken by the adults in my life other than in whispers. And honestly, I'm almost afraid to ask anyone.

See, the thing is, my mother always talked about this wreck with a lot of guilt in her voice.  She always said 'she lost control.' Not of the car, which would seem to be apt way to put it . . . no, this was just that she lost control. Was she drunk when we hit that pole? Was she high?

Today, I actually started wondering if maybe she was trying to kill herself. Like I said, much about this whole thing is a blur. I was so young. I remember her being very emotional. I remember her being very upset. The thing is, I've driven these roads and there is no logical way you could hit that telephone poll just by losing control of the wheel. There is no reason you would slam into a telephone poll if you lost your breaks, not when you could just turn into someone's driveway and turn the car sharply. My mother was a better driver than that.

Was she trying to kill herself? With me in the car? With no seatbelt? Was she trying to kill both of us?

Maybe I'm reading too much into this. I honestly hope I am. I'm a little haunted by it now. I should probably work up the courage to ask someone.