I used to keep a drawer full of “nice things”—luxuries like fancy candles, upscale bubble bath, two large bottles of Greek extra virgin olive oil, and that Aesop handwash reserved for guests. A bottle of champagne collected dust on the kitchen counter, and an expensive moisturizer sat unopened in the bathroom. I believed these little indulgences weren’t meant for everyday use but should be saved for some vague “special” occasion in the future.
Then, in May of last year, I was hit by a car. It happened while I was walking down a quiet street in Bermuda after lunch, where I had been sent for a work assignment.
I have no memory of the moments before or the hours after the accident. I remember being on a bus, then getting off and crossing the road. After that, nothing. I have a faint image of lying on grass, looking up at faces peering down from above. Next, I recall being in an ambulance with no clear sensory details, only a desperate urge to speak to my boyfriend, though my mind couldn’t figure out who he was, where he might be, or if we were still together. Then, I found myself in a hospital bed with a uniformed stranger moving around me.
“You’ve been in an accident,” explained Shea, one of the nurses. “We’ve had this conversation a few times already—and we can have it again. You’re lucky to be alive,” she said.
It wasn’t until months later, after the police had gathered evidence, that I learned the details. I had been walking along a quiet street with no sidewalk when an elderly driver hit me from behind. He drove away, apparently unaware of the collision, despite the human-shaped dent I left on his car. I was thrown forward and sideways over a stone wall that scraped off a layer of skin, then fell about 12 feet, landing on a playing field. Based on the concentration of broken bones, it’s thought I landed on my left foot first. My legs, back, and diaphragm were badly bruised and battered. A lump on the back of my head suggests I hit it too, knocking me unconscious.
I’ve found it’s best not to dwell on all the factors that worked in my favor. My injuries were serious, but it was a lucky escape: my bones have healed, the internal bruising is gone, and there’s no lasting brain damage. The scars on my legs may fade over time, though I’ve grown quite attached to them.
In the months that followed, I wish I could say I reevaluated my priorities, rejected materialism, and discovered what truly matters. But that wasn’t the case. For a long time, I was immobile and in pain—first shaken, then frustrated and irritable. It was heartwarming to see my loved ones rally around me, and witnessing the body’s healing process was remarkable. I know I’m incredibly lucky. Yet, by the time I progressed from a wheelchair to crutches to walking on my own, I felt like the moment for profound revelations had passed. I worried I’d missed my chance.
In reality, the only change I noticed at first seemed entirely superficial: I thoroughly raided my “nice things” drawer. Going out? I’d douse myself in Bleu de Chanel. At night, brushing my teeth by the light of a scented candle (Cos’s Cabane de Bois—divine!) became a daily ritual. Making dinner? Time to open that fancy balsamic vinegar!
But more than a year after the accident, my perspective has shifted. Allowing myself these small rituals has boosted my self-worth; little pleasures no longer feel wasted, especially when shared with others. Even ordinary catch-ups are infused with a sense of ocThere are moments that call for a little indulgence—a way to show how much I value the people in my life. It’s not about being extravagant or careless, but about embracing the spirit of a bon vivant on a budget. And as a bonus, I smell nicer now, and my salad dressings have gotten much better.
When my grandparents passed away, I visited their home in Liverpool and opened their cupboard of “nice things.” (One was a child during the war, the other a refugee from Eastern Europe—they were, truthfully, mild hoarders.) They also had bottles of champagne and fancy chocolates, all saved for the next celebration. But the corks had crumbled, and the treats were long past their prime.
When the time comes for someone to sort through my own “nice things” drawer, I hope they find it empty—because I want everything inside to have been shared and enjoyed with the people I love. I still haven’t opened my one fancy bottle of bubbly, but it’s in the fridge now, ready and waiting.
Frequently Asked Questions
Of course Here is a list of FAQs about the experience of a lifechanging event and the resulting shift in perspective
General Beginner Questions
1 What do you mean by a turning point in your life
A turning point is a specific event or moment that causes a major and lasting change in how you think feel and live your life
2 How did the accident change your outlook
It made me realize how fragile life is Because I almost lost it I started to value my everyday experiences much more
3 What are lifes small pleasures
They are the simple everyday moments that bring you a sense of joy or peace like enjoying a warm cup of coffee feeling the sun on your skin or sharing a laugh with a friend
4 Is it common for people to feel this way after a neardeath experience
Yes its very common A brush with death often forces people to reevaluate their priorities and find a deeper appreciation for being alive
Deeper Advanced Questions
5 Did you experience any negative emotions like fear or anxiety after the accident
Absolutely At first there was a lot of fearespecially around crossing streets Its a normal part of processing such a traumatic event
6 How did you make this new appreciation last and not just fade away
I had to be intentional about it I started making a conscious effort to notice and acknowledge good moments throughout my day which slowly turned it into a habit
7 Did this change affect your bigger life goals like your career or relationships
Yes it did I became less focused on stressful longterm ambitions and more focused on having a balanced life filled with meaningful connections and daily contentment
8 What if someone hasnt had a major event but wants to appreciate life more Can they learn this
Definitely You dont need a neardeath experience You can start by consciously slowing down and paying attention to the present moment practicing gratitude and minimizing distractions
Practical Tips Examples
9 Can you give some specific examples of small pleasures you now appreciate
Sure The smell of rain on pavement the comfort of clean sheets the taste of a perfectly ripe piece of fruit or having a few quiet minutes to myself in the morning
