I am blogging about driving again. Do not expect joy. If you are sick of the subject please come back tomorrow when some kind of normal service where I talk about snot and wee will undoubtedly be resumed. If, like me, you are of a masochistic bent and have a goldfish memory, please feel free to stick around for another dose of misery.
I am not seeking advice, although if you have some do feel free. I am not looking for sympathy, although again ditto. And I know you’ve heard it all before, so please don’t feel you have to be nice, or indeed nasty.
I wasn’t going to write about it because I have started to feel guilty about things not changing for me emotionally.
Then I thought that that would be stupid. This is my blog. If I want to write ‘I hate driving’ every day from now until the end of my life I can. I can’t expect that many readers will hang on in there with me, but that’s not the point is it?
The point of the blog is to give me somewhere to empty my head (and yes, to annoy the children with later).
So I am emptying it.
I went out twice in the car today. First we had to go to Tesco to do something. It was o.k. Tesco is not far away and it is on a route I do on every single driving lesson I have. What freaked me out was the car park. I have done bay parking twice and parking in a regular carpark twice. On every occasion there has been tons of room and not many people.
Today it was like watching people fighting over the last lifeboat on the Titanic. I could not do it. I could not even attempt to do it. I parked up, got out and let Jason do it. I don’t feel too bad about this. It’s not something I’ve had a lot of practice in and this is a brand new car for me.
What did freak me out was the feeling that no matter how long I live I don’t think I’ll ever be able to park in a situation like this. It was just terrifying. I know I can have my groceries delivered! I do already. It’s not the actual Tesco car park. It’s any car park like this, anywhere, ever.
Jason wouldn’t let me drive out because Oscar had grazed his hand and was screaming the place down because he had drawn blood. He decided that screaming boy was not conducive to me getting out of hideous car park. I agreed. Then I was overwhelmed by the fact that the children are always doing something horrible in the car. They’re never model passengers. What do I do when all helll breaks loose? How will I cope? I can barely cope now when I have reinforcements. What will I do when I am out on my own and they inevitably do something heinous?
We drove on to an out of town shopping centre to do some errands. I drove out and made it half way to my mother’s in a fit of blind panic before one mistake too many meant that my cup runneth over and I actually burst into tears and was driving with tears plopping into my cleavage. We stopped at the side of the road. We swapped, he drove.
I have never actually burst into tears in the car before. I don’t know whether it is because I am simply overwrought from having driven four different cars in less than a week with four different people and driven for hours every day for four days, or because it was Jason. I think it was a combination of the two probably. I want to burst into tears with everyone else. It’s just that my stubborn pride prevents me from doing it until I am alone or at home with people who are used to seeing me blow huge snot bubbles out of my nose and still love me anyway.
I just feel totally overwhelmed by the enormity of it all. I cannot see that there will ever be an end to it. I am in a contemporary form of Dante’s circles of hell.
It will probably be different tomorrow, but today I am in despair again. Total despair. I cannot find a place of peace, rationality or fortitude. I cannot be comforted and I am so very sad and am so weary of having to screw up my courage every single day and do this. Not only do it, but talk about it and discuss it and think about it and chat about it. I feel like I just want to chop it out of my life in a kind of lobotomised way of being that will give me some kind of rest, and yet here I am. If I talk about it it drives me mad. If I don’t talk about it, it drives me mad.
I would like to get some kind of perspective. Some kind of handle on it. Most people can do it. Why can’t I? Why is it that all my resources fall against this hurdle? I’m not stupid. I’m not lacking in ability. Except here, doing this thing that consumes my days and nights and everything in between.
And I know that I am a whinging baby and wouldn’t it be nice if we could all have problems like mine? I have plenty to eat, I have a lovely family and I have privileges that other people (and not just starving Africans) would die for. I am very blessed. And no. It doesn’t make me feel any better for knowing it.
Perhaps you are doing too much of it – why drive every day? Mybe you are piling on too much pressure. Why not do it every other day – slow the pace down a bit and give it a chance to embed itself in your brain?
Parking is a dark art and it gets easier with practice. I have to parallel park in front of my house every day so I am reasonably good at it now but, if it is any consolation, a couple of years back, despite 25 of years of driving practice, I got out and let my husband park for me when the space was small and it was dark and raining hard and the git from no 6 over the road was sitting 6″ behind me in his sodding volvo blinding me with his lights and waiting for me to park so he could get out of the road. Now I don’t have that luxury so if I don’t think I can get into a particular space I just drive on till I find one big enough for me. I have a Peugeot 206 so it is not that different from your mini.
And a friend of mine still cannot parallel park after 30 years and got out in hysterics after 3 attempts in a very narrow street and left her husband to do it for her.
Well – for what it’s worth. I think you are right to feel sorry for yourself. In fact I think you are being to hard on yourself. So there..
In fact, you could do worse than actually look at what you are going through and really, truly feel sorry for yourself, comfort yourself, the poor frightened child inside, sitting in a corner weeping.
It works for me anyway, especially when all is woe and I have to do something I don’t want to. And I guess that’s the point really. It’s usually the child who doesn’t want to to something the adult has plans for.
Once you have comforted the child, truly felt for it, then you can make decisions about whether to keep on doing what you want to do.
Sometimes the harder we push at something, the harder the resistance.
Might be all complete, utter, shite but as I said, it works for me.
Actually, I’ll give you this one. Supermarket carparks are, literally, hell on wheels. You need to pick your time when there’s as few people shopping as possible meaning you’ll have a halfway decent chance of just being able to swing easily into a space. I drive a bleedin’ Range Rover so need as much space as possible. I have found, over the years, that 9am on a Tuesday morning is a very good time to go. Alternatively, just get your shopping delivered – so much less stressful. And I’m with Alienne here – why drive every day? I certainly don’t…
I haven’t introduced myself here before- shockingly bad manners! as I really enjoy your blog. I’m sorry about the driving- I think there are certain things that are difficult to pick up as a grown-up with a grown-up’s awareness of common sense and danger, etc; I would put skiing and driving in that category (as someone who learned to ski too late in life and now, even though I go every year, I cringe and want to cry when it’s time to step off the lift). Have you thought about hypnosis? (I don’t mean while you’re actually driving, of course, but the kind that’s like very gentle directed meditation). It’s probably not for everyone, and needs a qualified practitioner of course, and I haven’t tried it myself, but have friends who’ve had very good results. Aside from that possibly useless advice, you have my sympathy; also my admiration for all your many other talents. I think it’s allowed to decide there are some things in life you simply won’t do, if it comes to that…
No advice. Just sending love.
I second Sarah’s suggestion re the hypnosis, that might help your mind into a more relaxed state so that the adrenaline isn’t on overdrive. Other than that – big hugs and know that I think you are very, very extraordinarily brave to keep going with the lessons.
Will e-mail later about the wool.
Nothing on the above apart from to add to the hypnosis-type remedy – my sister was offered acupuncture for the same anti-anxiety reasons, and it really worked for her. I think she even got it on the NHS. Worth a try unless you’re not a fan of needles?
You are all lovely and all right too. I have a plan which incorporates all or most of your ideas in one form or another and have already blogged it. Thank you so much for hanging in there with me.
Ros. I rang one of my best friends and blubbed like a baby. It helped a lot!