Trying to fix my life
Sunday, 22 May 2016 10:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
carose59"But Like My Mother Has Said On Numerous Occasions, The Least You Can Do Is Try To Act Normal."*
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Last year, I went to the movies and had some kind of dizzy spell on an escalator, followed by a panic attack while driving home—brought on by driving on hilly streets.
Later that week, I tried to go back to that theatre, but couldn't do it. Overwhelming anxiety left me crying in a parking lot.
There have been a few other incidents involving driving over bridges or overpasses.
Then, a couple of months ago, I was riding with a friend on the interstate and having the same problem—dizziness and anxiety. Up until then I had been vacillating between thinking it was my eyes causing the problem and thinking I was just being overwhelmed by anxiety and it was leaking out in yet another way. After that I was pretty sure it was my eyes doing something that was scaring me, leading to me being anxious and afraid it would happen again.
I'd been able to drive out to Washington Square mall, which is the closest mall to my house. It's a straight shoot east, about fifteen miles away. I live on 16th Street, which is one of the more direct routes—but it also has a hill. Last year, the last time I tried to drive that hill, I ended up taking a lot of little side streets to detour around it.
I'd been thinking about getting up early one Sunday morning and driving over that hill really, really slowly—early Sunday because that way there wouldn't be much traffic.
This morning when I decided to go to the movies, I further decided to take the hill. As I drove toward it, I asked myself just what I thought was going to happen.
The answer was two things. The first was the big, serious thing: that I would cause an accident by driving badly. Since I have no history of doing this, and since I don't see a psychotic break looming in my future, this seems really unlikely.
The second thing was, I was afraid of being an asshole. Driving fifteen-twenty miles an hour in a forty mile an hour zone is pretty assholish.
As I was driving through the last intersection before the hill, I asked myself just how long it takes to drive over it. The answer is probably a minute or two, even going really slow.
I spend a lot of time and energy trying to be a good person, but this was something I really needed to do, and if it meant being an asshole for a couple of minutes, I could handle that.
I drove over the hill.
By the time I got to the top of it, I was going about thirty-seven. I wasn't dizzy, I wasn't scared. I felt good.
I went to the movie (Money Monster, a good popcorn movie), got some Chinese food to go, and came home—again by way of 16th Street and the hill.
It was just fine.
I cannot tell you how much better I feel about my whole life.
Maybe next weekend I can drive out to Castleton Square.
*Arthur Carlson
-:- -:- -:- -:-
Last year, I went to the movies and had some kind of dizzy spell on an escalator, followed by a panic attack while driving home—brought on by driving on hilly streets.
Later that week, I tried to go back to that theatre, but couldn't do it. Overwhelming anxiety left me crying in a parking lot.
There have been a few other incidents involving driving over bridges or overpasses.
Then, a couple of months ago, I was riding with a friend on the interstate and having the same problem—dizziness and anxiety. Up until then I had been vacillating between thinking it was my eyes causing the problem and thinking I was just being overwhelmed by anxiety and it was leaking out in yet another way. After that I was pretty sure it was my eyes doing something that was scaring me, leading to me being anxious and afraid it would happen again.
I'd been able to drive out to Washington Square mall, which is the closest mall to my house. It's a straight shoot east, about fifteen miles away. I live on 16th Street, which is one of the more direct routes—but it also has a hill. Last year, the last time I tried to drive that hill, I ended up taking a lot of little side streets to detour around it.
I'd been thinking about getting up early one Sunday morning and driving over that hill really, really slowly—early Sunday because that way there wouldn't be much traffic.
This morning when I decided to go to the movies, I further decided to take the hill. As I drove toward it, I asked myself just what I thought was going to happen.
The answer was two things. The first was the big, serious thing: that I would cause an accident by driving badly. Since I have no history of doing this, and since I don't see a psychotic break looming in my future, this seems really unlikely.
The second thing was, I was afraid of being an asshole. Driving fifteen-twenty miles an hour in a forty mile an hour zone is pretty assholish.
As I was driving through the last intersection before the hill, I asked myself just how long it takes to drive over it. The answer is probably a minute or two, even going really slow.
I spend a lot of time and energy trying to be a good person, but this was something I really needed to do, and if it meant being an asshole for a couple of minutes, I could handle that.
I drove over the hill.
By the time I got to the top of it, I was going about thirty-seven. I wasn't dizzy, I wasn't scared. I felt good.
I went to the movie (Money Monster, a good popcorn movie), got some Chinese food to go, and came home—again by way of 16th Street and the hill.
It was just fine.
I cannot tell you how much better I feel about my whole life.
Maybe next weekend I can drive out to Castleton Square.
*Arthur Carlson