Yesterday I travelled two hours one way to learn a
very big lesson about myself and to cry my eyes out in a Gas & Go
parking lot. Sounds like a fun day doesn't it? I fully expected that
there would be tears in my day, I just didn't expect them to flow
under a $121/litre sign. I was suppose to be at a funeral. A funeral
for my cousin, who left this world with a great deal of life yet to
be enjoyed, fifty-two years old is a life cut short.
I have come so far in my battle with anxiety, have
gotten bigger than so many fears, overcome nearly all of the demons
that paralyse me. Heck, I can leave my house, talk to strangers,
speak in public, express my opinion, send my children on adventures
and see Mike off on a bike ride without having his funeral planned
before the sound of his engine is out of earshot. I have come a long
way from where I was. I'm very proud of the work and the success I've
put in and achieved. I am very grateful for the love and support that
helped me get here. I also find myself 'braver than I believe and
stronger than I seem' (to quote the friend of a famous bear) in the face of those
few lingering scenarios I know still challenge me to work around, work
with, work through to navigate.
Navigate, that's a good word for yesterday. One
last remaining hurdle is a terror of highway driving, that sounds
ridiculous doesn't it, even my Gran at eighty years old jumped on the
400 series without batting an eye. I hate it so much I am not even a
very good passenger. Having said that I can get anywhere from
anywhere given enough time and a good route planned. I was determined
to get to my cousin's funeral yesterday. I was determined
to get myself there. Yes I could have caught a ride but that would
have been the old me, the one relying on others to get her
through life, to life, that is not who I am anymore. This was something I could do on my own. So,
I planned my route, loaded the destination into the GPS. Samantha and I
had an agreement; I would leave with plenty of time to spare, opt for
the 'alternate' route and she, in return, would be patient and
keep me on the back route, no highways.
We did well, so well in fact that about twenty
minutes from my destination Samantha decided that I could handle a
quick couple of exits on the QEW/403. We exchanged some tense words,
I pulled over, re-planned the route to re-avoid the highway. It
didn't work, I got horribly lost trying to skirt my fear, every which
way I turned the highway seemed the only option. I got so frustrated
that I even considered just getting on the dam thing and getting
where I need to go but I didn't, the thought of the lives I would be putting at risk with my lack of skill kept me off. I kept driving and cursing and
checking the map to make sure I was travelling in the right
direction. I swore, I cried and I hated myself for being so
ridiculously afraid.
Eventually I even arrived in front of the over
flowing church. I was 20 minutes late and the closest parking I could
get was six blocks away. By the time I walked in the door everyone
else would be walking out. I sat in the van and worked through the
last bit of anxiety and frustration. Late was better than never,
right. No it's not, not if you are late for a funeral or a wedding,
it's disrespectful and embarrassing. In the state I had managed to
arrive in I was not nearly composed enough or strong enough to offer
up a humorous explanation and a breezy 'laugh it off' for my ineptitude
to the people expecting I was going to be there. I put the van in
drive and went in search of a restroom. This is where the story finds
me parked in the Gas & Go. I called Mike, I was miles and an hour
(by his drive) from him helping me but I just needed to hear that I could get back
home, that I wasn't going to Hell because I missed a funeral and that
my effort no matter how unsuccessful counted. I'm sure that in our
twenty eight years together these phone calls, these tears, this
worry is the one thing Mike wishes wasn't part of my standard
equipment package. Something else happened in that gas station
parking lot. I decided that it is time to get bigger than this fear,
to look this last hurdle square in the eye and crush it.
Last week I learned how to poach an egg, it was my
challenge, my goal. This week the goal is a little grander...I'm going
to learn to drive on the highway. I am going to get bigger than my
fear so that I don't have to take twice as long, miss the important
things in life and rely on other people to get me through quite so
much. Gratitude to Mike who has agreed to risk life and limb to help
me conquer this hurdle, Gratitude to the guy at that Gas & Go who
only smiled and didn't ask any questions. Gratitude for the
understanding of the people who thought I should be there.
Gratitude for the knowledge that a set-back today
just means I have a little further to go tomorrow. Nothing compared
to how far I've already come.
Oh, and if you are on the expressway or 400 series
any time in the next month stay clear of the blue mini-van, I will be
learning but I will not have a caution flag on.
Gratitude, Hope and Smiles are meant to be shared,
Michelle
