Yesterday, I was involved in a terrifying car accident.

I had a meeting for a new project that I was very excited about while I was out in the middle of nowhere. I reached the top of what I knew to be a very steep, narrow hill as I was making my way home. I noticed a sand truck backing UP the road as I ascended the hill. My truck was backing up, so it didn’t see me even though I tried to pump my brakes a little, but they didn’t catch, so I started sliding in my direction. The snow tires on my 4WD SUV weren’t grabbing onto anything, despite having studded tread. I steered to the right, into a sizable snowbank that was heavily packed with ice, rather than sliding into the truck. The truck continued to back up directly towards my driver’s side without noticing me. I continued to honk until, just then, he noticed me and came to a stop. Despite being able to back out of the snow bank and onto the road, I couldn’t stop slipping down the hill. As it tried to keep up with me, the sand truck dropped some sand and made progress. We reached the bottom of the hill in safety at last. Far too close for comfort.

After the incident, I had an hour-long drive home and was feeling quite happy. Actually, I was very pleased with myself. There are many times that I feel like I am too much of a “girl,” lacking knowledge of cars and heating systems and fixing doorknobs. However, I am confident that I took the right steps to avert a more serious accident at that precise moment. I banked my car, pumped the brakes, and downshifted the engine. I successfully maneuvered myself out of the aforementioned snow bank and drove my car safely down a treacherous hill. Yes, I was incredibly proud of myself.

The adrenaline eventually subsided once I arrived home. My mind was racing with all that could have happened, and my body felt like it had been hit by a truck. More than anything, I wished for a hug and kiss from someone who would rub my tired shoulders and compliment my work. I was alone, though, so none of those things occurred.

The problem is right there. I am so content with my life alone almost every day. I have complete control over my schedule and can eat whenever I please. I’m free to take my dogs for walks in the woods, watch whatever I want on TV, and turn in at whatever time I want. My luck has made for a good life. Then again, there are those times when living by myself is just not enjoyable at all. whenever I have something exciting to say, when I am hurt, sad, or both. Of course I can pick up the phone and call any number of friends, but it just doesn’t compare to sharing with someone you love who is curled up in bed next to you.

I’m sorry, but I’m at a loss for advice on this one. I can tell you that after a hot bath I got in my car and drove to my friend’s house where I joined 4 other women and a bottle of wine and watched “The Bachelorette.” We smiled and toasted the romance of reality television. After that, life was once again perfect as I returned home, went to sleep, and woke up the following morning.

Oh, wait, perhaps I can offer some advice. This overwhelming sense of loneliness that I occasionally experience always seems to pass. In order to remember this, I try. Things can be much more tolerable when we acknowledge their transience. For a brief period, anyone can manage anything. I’ve discovered that watching some reality TV and spending that time with your girlfriends isn’t harmful. Create a strategy and carry it out. You will be fine.

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