I survived my crash…

Guna really got me thinking yesterday. Guna is an old friend with whom I’ve recently reconnected. As students in the heady ’70s we shared a house.

In the course of our one-and-a-half hour conversation, Guna said she was amazed at the way I’d survived my financial crash, emerging shining and strong. I can’t take all the credit for having survived it. It was a matter of holding on. Some don’t survive it. They die—literally die as a result of the pain, humiliation and disempowerment.

I can’t explain what makes some choose to end it, and what makes others hold on to life. However, I do know how bad the emotional pain can be. It’s about as bad as it gets, with the obvious exceptions of losing a child or beloved partner. When the confronting thought that it would be better to be dead than feel so bad came knocking, it scared the bejesus out of me. I believe what helped me to hold on was that I have children. They’re adults, but even so. That was a good enough reason for me.

Financial devastation was my big hiccup between my life in business and my life on a desert island. Not to go on about it—again—but it seems to genuinely interest people. I find myself being asked to explain it a lot more than I ever imagined or wanted. I thought if I just wrote a book about it, I’d get it out of my system and be done with it. The Book lies unfinished. It might always be so. If nothing else, partially writing a book was great therapy. Because I can’t point you to The Book, let me explain how I see it now, courtesy of the aforementioned conversation.

Before I begin, let me say I love using metaphors, analogies and visualisations in order to explain things. I’m actually in la-la land when I do this—one of my favourite places. My response to Guna was no exception…

Total financial devastation is one big car crash.

There you are, driving your car. Pretty damned well in fact. No crashes to date. You’ve given this trip serious consideration and chosen your destination accordingly. You’re happy with where you’re heading. It’s all good.

You change lanes—a slight alteration to your position but nothing that will alter the course you’re on.

Uh-oh. Wrong.

Wham! A massive crunch. Your car is being bulldozed as the road bucks and dips before you, as if in a slow-mo movie. You’re paralysed with fear, incredulous. You’re spinning, tumbling and screeching along the road. Then your car flies apart around you.

You lie torn and shredded on the road with a pounding head and searing body screaming, Make it stop! Make it stop!

How, what, why…?

A behemoth semi-trailer swept through your blind spot. Unstoppable. Unexpected. Unseen. Fast.

Taken in isolation, changing lanes didn’t cause it. The way you were driving didn’t cause it. You’re a pretty good driver in fact. Not double-checking the blind spot didn’t cause it. The route wasn’t a particularly dangerous one. It was the highway. For God’s sake, others were travelling on that road and didn’t crash. The behemoth powering past you didn’t cause it.

So what did…?

As for any crash: Timing plus a combination of individual events caused it.
Sum total: Disaster.

I told Guna I reckon the effects are no different from a serious ‘real-life’ car crash that causes huge personal injury. One shreds your body and the other shreds your ego, and what you thought was your identity. Both stop you in your tracks and make you reconsider everything you thought was important. Everything.

Post-crash, you’re in deep shock. Not only that, you hurt. Really hurt. You wake to find yourself in traction. Immobilised.

Hell, this is bad, you think. Shit. What am I going to do now?

You blame yourself for changing lanes. You blame yourself for the timing. You wish you’d never driven that car. Why did I choose that destination, that route? You blame yourself for not seeing it coming. No one is to blame but me. Look what I’ve done to myself. I’d rather be dead than feel this bad. If only…

…coulda woulda shoulda.

During months in traction, you try to make sense of it. You’re finally out of traction, starting to find movement again. You’re still vulnerable even though you look whole. Others see you healing on the outside. They wonder why you’re not driving again. They expect you to be going places, towards a destination. Little do they know of your inability to drive, let alone choose a destination. They don’t see the unwanted limitations that now determine your movements. It still hurts, and even the tiniest bump triggers searing pain. They don’t know there’s something else you must do before all else. To do it takes conviction and purpose and unfailing belief in your intuition. You think outside the square in order to survive while doing it.

Step-by-painful-step you heal yourself. You tap into things you’ve neglected or never done before: Meditation. Helping others who have less. Being grateful you can heal your mind, thankful it’s not a physical injury. Accepting you need counselling. Immersing yourself in nature. Being open to receiving your life force again. Acknowledging what’s really important. Writing. Crying. Realising you’re not a broken body or a crumpled car. Walking on beaches. Listening to inspirational audios, lifting your spirits and healing your shattered sense of self. Tapping. Navel-gazing. Soaking your cells in solfeggio frequencies. Healing healing healing. Whatever it takes. Becoming whole again in a way you’ve never done before. Trusting this is what I must do, even when others doubt it. Polishing the treasures you found in the deep dark hole. Being grateful that you’re here, alive, and there are people and an incredibly beautiful world to love. Discovering you’re not what you have and you’re not what you don’t have. You are greater than either. Seeing the blank canvas before you on which to paint a new life.

You are now the creator, not the creation. You’ve found infinity within the limitations.

Only a serious retreat can give you that. To me, anything else was avoidance or distraction.

Only you will know when you’re whole again.

And when you do, nothing can stop you.

It’s that simple.

Have you suffered financial devastation and recovered yourself with a positive attitude and a good mindset? What happened? Tell us your stories in the comments below…