Defiant Wisdom

Tag: survival instinct

Narratives shaped by urgency, adaptation, or protective response — often rooted in trauma, burnout, or the need to stay intact.

  • When Others Drive Over Your Feet Without Looking

    When Others Drive Over Your Feet Without Looking

    A gentle descent into emotional gridlock.

    I pulled in.
    Waited, patiently.

    The car park was small—
    cramped, and full.

    Drivers considered their options.
    Eyes: nervous,
    expectant.

    Time stretched
    like gum.

    I had no time to move
    as the truck reversed.

    Crunch.

    My poor little car recoiled.
    We exchanged details.
    They apologised.

    “It’s OK.
    Accidents happen,”
    I said.

    —

    Exactly three weeks later,
    the same thing happened again.

    She’d been panicked—
    spooked by a road rager
    on our tiny country road.

    “My God!
    You’re the second to do this,”
    I said.

    “I’m so sorry,”
    she said.

    As I pulled in, shaken,
    I damaged the other side of my car.

    And that’s when I lost it.

    Fuuuuuuck!

    “Do you need a hug?”
    she asked.

    And there we were—
    two strangers,
    just…
    holding on.

    —

    Later,
    we both texted each other.

    Are you OK?
    we both asked.

    I apologised for my behaviour—
    though I guess
    I’m just tired

    of people reversing into me
    whilst I try to get on—

    with my life.

    Marginalia

    At the time of the first accident, I’d made a mistake on a client job. The client had been understanding, and so I tried to respond similarly to those who had reversed into me. But the bigger picture was harder to ignore: I was just trying to get on with my life, and other people’s dramas kept crashing into me—literally.

    There aren’t many whispers louder than a car crash, and I had two, exactly three weeks apart. It felt like the universe wasn’t so much sending messages as it was driving them straight into me.

    As part of a bigger story, both crashes happened just before I found out my herbal school was going ‘independent.’ By the time I unpacked that word, I was already in emotional gridlock.  You can read more about that in Dandelion Tears.

  • We’re Going to Need a Bigger Boat

    We’re Going to Need a Bigger Boat

    What happens when the storm breaks before the spell does.

    We boarded.
    Turbulence grew —
    typhoon season.
    Nothing new.

    When the screaming
    started,
    I knew to be scared.
    I held back.
    I felt embarrassed
    to ask a stranger
    for his hand.

    What if we didn’t die
    today?

    When we landed,
    we waited
    for hours —
    on someone else’s
    runway.

    Pressure in the cabin.
    Raised, demanding voices.
    The door opened
    and closed.
    The white guy left.
    We remained.

    Finally,
    like refugees,
    we disembarked —
    200 km away.

    Inside
    people were frantic.
    Staff mauled.
    Like a drowning child
    sinking their saviour.

    Our bags,
    dumped
    onto a conveyor.

    The end.

    I didn’t speak
    Chinese.
    I was lost —
    I watched,
    on mute.

    I never lost sight
    of the man who’d sat
    next to me.

    “We’re catching a cab,”
    he said.

    Five perfect strangers —
    only him
    who understood.

    Our final destination:
    just me and him now.
    Flooded, knee-deep.
    Dark, foggy.
    Silence, inside
    and out.
    Only the low hum
    of the engine,
    and the water
    at our doors.

    From the shadows —
    of our haunted river road
    cruise —
    Neptune’s statue
    emerged from the mist.
    I blinked,
    I laughed,
    what the fuck-
    was I dreaming now?

    My hotel was underwater.
    I had no chance
    of getting there.

    Reception wouldn’t send
    a boat.

    We drove on.
    “That’s my apartment,”
    he pointed to the sky.

    “I would invite you,
    but it’s inappropriate.”
    I nodded silently.

    I didn’t feel unsafe.

    The taxi stopped.
    Like an island
    in the middle of
    the sea.
    The driver panicked,
    unfamiliar with the city
    and the terrain.
    Persuading —
    loudly,
    like only a negotiator
    knows how.
    We continued.

    A new hotel, located.
    Safe, dry —
    but not mine.

    “Here is my number,
    if you need anything.”

    I was thankful,
    deep gratitude.
    I had a bath
    to steady my soul.

    The next morning,
    I met
    to negotiate
    a few more cents
    on plastic toys.

    “I didn’t think you’d make it,”
    she said.
    She was hours late
    for the meeting.
    The floods still raged.

    I was on time.

    I was done.

    Marginalia

    This trip was the last negotiation trip I took in my corporate life. When I found out I was pregnant in the airport on the way home, I realised that anything could have happened to me that night and without a signal on my phone, no one would have known any different.

    At the time, I was only focused on my itinerary, which was to essentially haggle for pennies over toys that only cost pennies in the first place. It was only upon reflection did I think ‘what the fuck is this all about’ and decided this wasn’t it anymore.