Fight or Flight

I want to share a bit about what happened from day one. I know I have been posting about my grieving process, but some of you may not know what exactly happened in the beginning.

My name is Megan Bryce, and I lost my husband to a motorcycle accident on September 29, 2020. I am a widow at 24 years of age; 101 days after I was married.

On September 29th of this year I left my husband in the morning to go to a normal day of work. He was still sleeping and I forgot to kiss him goodbye. This is one thing that I will regret.

Around lunchtime, we had a short conversation over text. I had asked him to check if a package was delivered for me, and his last words to me were “anything for you”. Later on in the afternoon I followed up with him to see if my package had been delivered. I heard nothing from him. I texted him once more about an hour later, and still heard nothing. It was around this time I had a friend message me about a motorcycle accident that happened earlier in the day. Immediately my mind went to Caleb.

I tried calling him right away and I couldn’t get through. I tried a few more times before I started to worry. I searched the internet for articles about the accident that had happened just before 12:30, and then I found it. At 4:27pm, I found the article about my husbands death. It didn’t say anything about what kind of motorcycle, it didn’t give his name. It simply stated a man in his early twenties was dead at the scene. I left work immediately. You can imagine I was freaking out at this point after not hearing from Caleb, but all of my worries went away as I convinced myself he was just out of service fishing. I was in fight mode, denying any possibility that it could be him. As I was on my way home, one of my best friends got there first to check if his motorcycle was there; it wasn’t. She also checked if his fishing stuff was there; it wasn’t. Now my worries were back. Noelle and I were sitting on my couch by the front window, hoping, praying- over and over. I remember praying so clearly. I remember the words “please God, not Caleb”. I opened my eyes as I heard the sound of motorcycles approaching my house. There was a moment of relief as I thought it was Caleb, but it wasn’t. It was two of our friends who had come to give me the news. I foggily remember Coleton coming up my stairs, ripping his helmet off, wearing a tear stained face. As we embraced, the sound of his words shattered my heart. It was Caleb, he was gone.

I don’t remember much after that. What I do remember is walking directly out my door, not even putting shoes on my feet. I walked down my street and fell to the ground. The earth crumbled beneath my feet; I couldn’t hear anything, I couldn’t see anything, I was in full-blown shock. It was the scariest moment of my life. I can honestly say I don’t remember anything about that evening other than feeling like I couldn’t breathe. My life partner had been taken from me; my soul mate, my air. I remained in this state for about 3-4 days, and as the days went on I became more full of life again. I started talking again, I started breathing normally, I could see things clearly again.

My body had gone into full fight or flight, and my body chose flight. I was gone. I know that people say time heals; and to a degree that is true. But I am still in a flight type mode. People keep telling me that I’m so strong, and don’t get me wrong, it’s so nice to hear that. It’s nice to know you’re putting on a show for others. But the truth is, I am surviving, not thriving. I wasn’t strong, I didn’t have a choice. I am numb. Life changed in the blink of an eye and my body chose how to handle it. I can say that it amazed me to see what the human body is capable of.

This isn’t something I should have ever known or experienced; nobody should. But if you’re going to take one thing away from this post, take this: fight or flight is real, and you don’t get a say in what your body chooses.