Well, I did another professional regression at the suggestion of many of you here (thank you all for that suggestion, by the way) and I'm certainly glad that I did. I had wanted to regress to the time that I non-fatally crashed, because interestingly enough I believe that is where a good deal of my fear of flying and fear of loss of control comes from. I may regress to the fatal crash at some point, but right now I am working on processing this one. The memories that I recovered have me somewhat shaken up, although not as much as I was at the time of the regression of course, and I think that writing about them here will definitely help me sort through it.
I remember I wasn't flying with the people that I usually did. I'd been transferred to another group because I was helping to instruct in flying as well as doing missions myself. It was right after I'd been transferred to this new group and I felt really cocky about my abilities--I was instructing other fighter pilots and I'd had a lot of success flying with my previous group. I definitely never thought that I would be injured in any way, despite the fact that one of my friends had been shot down recently, I just assumed that I was luckier. We were fighting a group of US planes and I was doing well.
Then there was that horrible noise. There wasn't any warning for it, I didn't see anything coming at me or anything. One moment I was thinking that this mission was easy, and the next moment there was this huge explosion/thunder like noise. As I said in my previous thread, I ducked, even though there wasn't really anywhere to go. Then there was another loud noise and I felt like I was falling. It really was like the floor had fallen out from underneath me, and I was swearing and trying to stay level and get away from what was going on. I was thinking that I'd made a terrible mistake somehow (I think my mistake was that I had been too overly confident that nobody would hit me, and I wasn't as cautious as I could have been). I was trying to make something happen in the plane to level it out or to get it steady but nothing I was doing was working. It felt as though none of the controls would respond to any of my attempts (my fear of loss of control in airplanes, perhaps?) but strangely enough I still wasn't getting scared. I knew that I'd been hit, I knew I was going down, but I still thought that I could somehow land the plane and walk away unharmed.
Then all of a sudden I became aware that the plane was on fire, and that because of where I'd been hit (I think I'd been hit in the tail area and this caused some kind of explosion) then the plane was spinning. That's when I panicked. I started swearing even more and thinking "I have to get out of here, I have to get out of here" but at that point I knew it was too late. I didn't even try to get out, everything was making horrible noises and I felt like the plane was falling apart around me. I closed my eyes and knew that I was essentially done for. That's when I think I blacked out because I don't actually remember hitting the ground, but I know I hit the ground shortly thereafter, and I think that I was quite fortunately thrown out of the plane and onto the ground myself, otherwise it seems likely that I would have died. I just remember that it hurt, worse than anything else had hurt before and that I couldn't move one of my arms, and that my head felt like it was literally splitting in half. I must have blacked out again because there aren't any more memories from actually crashing. I just knew that I wasn't dead, but I thought I probably was going to die before anyone found me or helped me, and even if I didn't die I'd probably never be able to fly again. Luckily that wasn't the case, for either of those things.
It was really traumatic to go through again. I just felt the terror and despair once I realized that there was no way out of the plane. I also felt stupid because I realized that I had been thinking I'd be fine even after my plane had been hit and was going down. If I'd been a little quicker and more willing to admit what was going on I might have been able to get out in time and avoid being so badly wounded. I realize that I've been blaming myself for this for so long--even though it was someone else that shot me down, I felt like it was my fault that I had been too cocky and unaware of what was going on around me. There is really nothing more terrifying than losing control in a situation like that and that's what happened to me.
Sorry, that went a little long, I think.