5 Minutes Till Home, Or So I Thought

✍️ Real Talk: Life Is What You Make Of It

I was on the up and up. My friends had very generously offered up their home in Silverlake for me to “house-sit.” But really, they knew I had lost my job and was working on building something new - and lurking around LA for some digs and hangs (and that I currently live with my parents about an hour outside of LA). So for nearly 2 weeks, their sun-filled, Spanish-deco home in the heart of fake Williamsburg was mine.

The first 48 hours were glorious. I lounged. I set up my work station. I made social plans. I stared at the 10 books I had brought to read in 10 days. I vibed at LA’s coolest coffee shops. I was ready to hunker down and work on my new coaching business AND have the most fun LA week of my life.

On Day 3, I ran a quick errand at the post office. It was weirdly pleasant. The lady was almost a little too nice. A little too accommodating. I left feeling some warm and fuzzies that you don’t usually feel at the post office. I was excited to go home and chill. I got in my car, put on my GPS, and as I was taking a left turn out of the intersection, I saw a car accelerating in my direction from a distance. I honked. I thought - this is not gonna happen. I’m gonna clear the intersection. I have so much time. It won’t happen. The guy will slow down. It’ll be tricky but a quick left turn and I’m good to go. 5 minutes till home. 6 minutes till sweatpants.

BOOM.

The pickup truck hit me…on the driver’s side. My car flipped over. I was suspended in the air, held in place by my seatbelt. Nothing really registered in the moment. I almost laughed because like…what? I was 5 minutes from home. It’s a regular day, I was at the regular post office, and…like what? Is my car really sideways? Am I sideways?

And then the panic kicked in. My car was yelling at me - “put vehicle in park” was flashing on the dashboard. How could I do that? Was my car gonna blow up? I’m in the middle of an intersection. What if someone hits my car?

A construction worker came to the windshield. He asked if I was ok. He saw the sunroof and yelled “Can you reach it? Can you open it?” I had forgotten it was there. I opened it. Someone handed me water. How could I drink it, though? They asked me to thumbs up or thumbs down. I asked to get out. They said to stay put. The fire department was coming. Don’t move. What if I was paralyzed. They said don’t move. I couldn’t move anyway. Where would I go? I worried how long I’d be there. LA traffic. Traffic. Oncoming traffic.

I tried to breathe. The seatbelt constricted my chest. I saw airbags. I looked back and saw the empty car seat in the back seat from my nephew’s visit the week before. I winced at seeing the right side of it crushed in. What if he had been with me. My laptop was on the windshield. My hijab had fallen off. Where was it? And where was my phone?

The firefighters got there within a few minutes and smiled and laughed and asked if I was ok. They asked me to wiggle my toes. They asked if I could get myself out. I kept thinking I DON’T KNOW. They released the seatbelt. I climbed out of the sunroof. It felt like an obstacle course. Like a toy car in a practice run. My vitals were fine. Almost a little too fine, they said.

For the next 2 hours, I sat on the side of the road. My friend came and helped me grab my things from the car and talked to the police and the tow guy. I kept looking at my left side. My left arm. My left leg. Not a scratch. But the left side of my car…it couldn’t have been worse. Both doors were smashed in, the frame was falling off. I just stared at it. My friend was a God-send and he dealt with all the details. He grabbed my ID. He told me where to sign. The tow truck hoisted my car right side up, and it hit me all over again. I held my whole left side, shuddering to think of what could have happened. And why it didn’t. I couldn’t stop crying. I had to force myself to breathe.

My car was towed, impounded, and was deemed “a complete loss” by the insurance company. I went to the tow lot in East LA the day after and grabbed some personal items…some shoes, a nice note from a friend that was in the glove compartment. My ayat Al kursi hanging thing. The doors were unhinged. Foam and glass were all over the seats. I left the keys in the car. And I walked out with my yoga mat slung on my back. It felt like a movie. I went and got a burger in Highland Park right after. And then I took a train back to my parents house from LA.

This all happened on August 9th. And life’s been a little bit of a blur since then. I’ve been on the phone with a lot of insurance …car insurance, health insurance. (I now understand the point of insurance…) I’ve learned about EMDR therapy options. I’m alive. I didn’t even go to the hospital. It was the best case scenario: me and the other driver both walked away without a scratch. Everything is completely normal, fine…regular even. For the most part, my life is unchanged. My car is gone. But the insurance paid me a big chunk of change. So really…life is good, right?

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The thing is: life actually is good. This was a weird and harrowing experience. A freak accident. Most days I think about it and look down at my left side, and hug it in. It’s all there. Not a scratch (well, one little scratch). Not a bruise. I think about how bad it could have been. How a less bad accident could have saved my car and yet injured me for life. I’m grateful it’s the opposite. My family and friends have hugged me tight these last two weeks. They’ve sent cookies and flowers. They’ve babied me. They’ve reminded me that the prayers of my elders, that my good deeds, that the angels - that they saved me. That against all odds, in a split moment, I survived. That I have a purpose. That God wants me on this earth or else He would have taken me in that moment. And I believe them. I believe that. I believe that I’m supposed to be here. I wonder which prayer it was. I think of my grandparents and all the old people in my life and how they seem to have this special, unique, powerful connection to God. How they pray with such…realness. Soulfulness. How one or many of those prayers have protected me more times than I’ll ever know. I shudder more.

But this was still…a big thing. In some moments I think “why does God hate me? Why is my life falling apart? My job…now this? When will life be…normal?” But I’m trying to just…get through it. My friend who grabbed me from the accident keeps teasing me - “Is this going to be your whole personality now? Girl Who Got In A Car Accident?” Maybe it will be for awhile! Loll. But for the most part, I’m grateful. A little shook. A lot shook! But grateful.

Grateful to be alive, to have my health, to have a family that supports me when I lose a job and total my car. Grateful for my friends who have nurtured me back to health with jokes about my dumpster fire life trajectory. Grateful to my mom who’s been calling me sweetheart for the last 16 days. To my dad who keeps joking that I picked the worst way to trade in my car. To my 4yo nephew who asked what I did with the car keys after I “messed up the Toyota.” And to God, who’s definitely been testing me in ways I haven’t loved recently, but who I know is carving a path for me in a way that hopefully I’ll understand one day.

A week after the accident, I went to Malibu and swam in the ocean for the whole day. The waves took my hat. I lost my balance more than once, and I laughed and played and enjoyed the warmth and sun and beach snacks and getting a tan. My skin felt soft. My nose got a little browner than the rest of me. Life is more than a job. More than a car. More than screens. More than startups making things you didn’t know you needed. It’s about ocean waves and salty air and sand in weird places and…you fill in the rest. Life is what you make it. And I’m grateful to have a life to make something of.

Thanks for reading, have a great weekend. Drive safe, and hit the beach if you can. ✨

Arshiya

PS - my next newsletter will return to its regular format. Thanks for detouring with me as life detours me 🙃 If you’re in LA this weekend, come hang with me and my crew this Sunday in Culver City. And if you’ve made it allll the way here, you might as well subscribe to my weekly newsletter 😘