The Day That Changed Me - My Journey Back

The Day That Changed Me – My Journey Back to Strength and Purpose

June 15th, 2023, was a beautiful, sunny day, one of those days where the sky was perfectly blue. I remember this even two years later because no other day in my life has had such a profound impact – not before and not since. It was a morning that started like any other: just me and my little rescue dog, Pete, heading out for our usual walk. At that moment, I had no idea that in a matter of minutes, my life would take an unexpected turn. Does anyone ever know?

As I walked along our familiar route, something unimaginable happened: I collapsed while crossing the main road. There was no warning, no dizziness, no pain—just sudden darkness as my body hit the ground. I fell forward, my face taking the full impact, and the next thing I knew, I was surrounded by the kindness of strangers. Everything in between is a blur, and I have spent hours since desperately trying to piece the puzzle back together; sadly, I have never completed it. I will never forget the two incredible women who stopped their cars and rushed to help me. They called an ambulance and stayed with me, their voices soft and reassuring as I drifted in and out of consciousness. When I finally became aware of my surroundings, I realised the extent of my injuries; my face was swollen and bloodied,, a bone under my eye was broken, and so was a rib. My eye had swollen shut, but by some miracle, my vision was intact. Yes, I was shaken and battered, but I was also overwhelmingly grateful to be alive and that Pete was unharmed.

The doctors were baffled by what happened as there was no apparent reason for my collapse. After several tests, they still couldn’t pinpoint a cause, leaving me with more questions than answers and full of frustration and confusion in equal measure. Physically, I was healing, but emotionally, I found myself caught in an endless loop of trying to remember what had happened as if solving the mystery would somehow give me back control. At that moment, my priority, and the thing I was most focused on, was finding answers. That was a tough place to be and a period of my life that I will never fully leave behind.

Beautiful Dovedale in the Peak District

Finding Strength in Art

A few days later, against better judgment (classic me!), I travelled to Derbyshire (my lovely husband drove me) to deliver a painting to a gallery. I was exhausted as my body was still weak. My face was also still healing, and I could feel the eyes of strangers on me, their glances filled with curiosity -  or concern - which was completely understandable. It was uncomfortable, but I refused to hide away. While in Derbyshire, we took a gentle stroll through Dovedale.

The rolling hills and the peaceful atmosphere overwhelmed me with emotion, and it struck me just how lucky I was to be here still, witnessing this beauty. For me, that day was a significant turning point, and for the first time in what seemed like forever, I felt hope. . That day and the feeling of gratitude will stay with me forever.

Weeks passed, and I channelled my energy back into art, immersing myself in creativity. Eventually, painting became my sanctuary. When I was painting, I wasn’t thinking about the accident or reliving the fall, and the noise in my head, the anxiety, the tinnitus—they all faded into the background. In those moments, there was only me and my canvas. Art became more than just a passion; it became a form of healing ,and peculiarly, my connection with the canvas became much stronger than it had been previously. I guess there is something in the phrase ‘every cloud has a silver lining’ after all.

The Aftermath

Despite my physical recovery, there were struggles that no doctor had warned me about. Fatigue clung to me like an invisible weight, making even simple tasks feel overwhelming. My head ached constantly, and my balance felt off, making me anxious about venturing out alone. Tinnitus rang persistently in my ears, a constant reminder that my body had been through something traumatic. But the mental toll was just as heavy. Anxiety crept into my daily life, making me afraid to step outside. I had to learn to take things slowly, to listen to my body, and to acknowledge that healing isn’t just about physical wounds closing—it’s about rebuilding confidence and regaining trust in my own strength. Was it a form of agoraphobia? Maybe it was but I learnt to accept that it is all part of the healing process and to be kind to myself. We don’t do enough of that in the world.

I adopted a simple mantra: Just five minutes. When exhaustion loomed over me, or when motivation felt distant, I promised myself I would try for just five minutes—five minutes of painting, five minutes of fresh air, five minutes of being present. More often than not, five minutes turned into something longer, but even if it didn’t, I had still moved forward, however small the step. I gained confidence, and I even felt proud of the progress I was making…baby steps were good enough.

Moving Forward

Every morning, I remind myself of what I’m grateful for. Gratitude has a way of shifting focus away from what has been lost to what remains, what grows, and what heals. Writing down even the simplest joys, such as the wag of Pete’s tail or a message from a friend, grounds me in the present, making the weight of the past feel lighter. One of the greatest blessings to come out of that day was an unexpected friendship. The woman who first stopped her car to help me has become someone of enormous importance in my life. What started as an act of kindness has grown into a beautiful bond, proving that even in the darkest moments, there is light.

She holds a very special place in my heart.

I am still healing. There are still hard days. But I no longer obsess over what happened that day or try to piece together lost moments. Instead, I focus on what I have now and what brings me peace and joy. Life has a peculiar way of reminding us of its fragility, but it also has an incredible way of highlighting our resilience. I fell, but I got back up. I faced uncertainty, but I found comfort in art. I experienced fear, but I discovered strength.

And for all of it—the good, the painful, the unexpected—I am grateful. I hope this brings hope to others who have also experienced ‘a day that changed everything’. Because life does, and will, get better. Trust me.