Yesterday I was cruising along in my car singing the Pussycat Dolls. It was the middle of the work day and I was being a good girl and doing the bank run. I hate to do the bank run. What’s fun about depositing tens and hundreds of thousands of dollars into accounts that are not yours? Nothing. Nothing at all. It’s rather depressing, actually. But I was rather content with the day. Just for being.
Thank you, day, for being what you are sometimes. Another chance.
Upon leaving the bank I noticed a puddle in the parking lot. My van was leaking something. Definitely leaking. Gushing? But I drove on. If I stopped for a leak every time I saw one I’d be at a permanent standstill. But then there was squeaking. And then there was smoke. And then I pulled over and realized my car was broke. Broken. Beat up. Out of luck.
So quick. Too quick. Change happens. Minor. Major. We fly and then we fall and we can’t even figure out what happened on the way down. Or maybe we weren’t present. Maybe something just happened to us. Either way, it happens. And here we are. And we feel stuck. At a gas station. In 20 degrees. Stuck.
This morning we moved my van from the parking space at the gas station to the parking lot of an office building down the street. There it sits. Alone. Here I sit. Stranded. Making sense of absolutely nothing and everything at the same time. I am a woman in a hole of desperation on one day and on top of the world on the next. It’s exhausting and I feel like I’m drowning out my own voice most of the time by writing about it over and over again.
I don’t seek advice or sympathy or avoidance, even. I face it dead-on, this whimsical ride of emotions I seem to be on this winter, and I choose confidence enough to explore it and exploit it and somehow come out on top.
Change. Tomorrow will be different. Three hours from now. Next year. This day, right now, is changing moment by moment by moment. The songs on the radio dictate my mood. The phone calls I receive. The texts and emails and comments and pokes. Is there an inner voice somewhere that should be calm through it all? That should feel resolve for all the moments? Their variety? Should I always know how to react? How to prioritize? How to withstand this constant motion of roars and whispers which floods my mind and my heart?
Today I ask many questions because I have so few answers. I see a big picture. It is bright and beautiful and makes sense in my mind. And then the changes fall all over themselves and my picture gets cloudy and I somehow abandon it for a while and roam lost. This is most certainly just life. The way it is. For me. At this time. And it’s fine. I’m not sad. I’m not depressed. I’m not reaching. I think I’m just confused. And paused. And waiting. For my transport.
I’d really like my van back. I’m not so very good at feeling stuck. Or relying on someone else to unstick me.
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Yep. I’m with you.
1 am last night, I’m still writing, emailing, high on the fact that one of my posts was picked up by a big publisher. Thrilled. I tell myself: I must write something terrific tomorrow, two terrific things tomorrow, no matter how tired I am. (I have appointments much of Wed-Fri that will allow only meager amounts of time for daily writing, around the usual parental tasks.
7 this morning, I flip open the laptop in bed beside me. (Hmmm. Is that why there’s no man? Or might it go elsewhere when there is one?) Yep. Laptop. And – nada. Bubkus. Zip.
I close it. I open it again. Nothing.
I restart the “bad” way. It limps to semi-consciousness in semi-safe mode and I have semi-visibility to quadrants of a screen, only in html view. Yeah. Joyful. 8 horrible hours later, I post a semi-adequate something.
My teen has a 6-year old (limping) desktop (where I sit now). At least the screen isn’t muddled. Why didn’t I come here earlier? He was sick, in bed, asleep.
Yep. Change. Riding high. Fall off the damn pickup. Face down. Tomorrow? I’ll still have a crippled laptop. And appointments. Murphy, the SOB. Now about that post Aidan wrote regarding the use of expletives. Think there may have been a few today?
Good luck with the van. Yeah. Life sucks. And then it doesn’t. And then it does. Again.
Until, not so much.
Thank you, Wolf. This is perfect. Kind of like parenting rocks, parenting sucks, parenting rocks, right?
I wish I could send you my husband for some tech repair. Or a new computer. Or a something…to help! We don’t want to miss a day of your words!
I love the ignoring the leak and the smell till the car just halts. That’s me for sure. I will avoid and avoid until the car clunks to a stop and I can’t avoid reality any more.
But why can’t it just kind of repair itself anyway? It seems to me that when I was a teenager we used to park the unworking cars for a couple nights and they “righted” themselves.
The problem for me with the car breaking down is that, as a mom, I’m moving fast and then suddenly I’m not moving at all. I’ve stopped but I’m not supposed to be.
Totally. Exactly. Moving fast and then just plain stuck. And where the hell do I go from here? Well, nowhere without a car. I mean really, can’t it just sort of “right” itself? We don’t have the time nor the money for the repair, no matter how quick it COULD be…and really, it never IS that quick, no matter what.
On a brighter note…new car? Let’s hope. Let’s hope it comes real, real soon.
I love that you just write. Just write. Your frustrations, your highs, your lows. No apologies. Not much explaining. Just you. Where you are. Right then. (Hope unstuck is where your van is tomorrow, and you, especially. Although I do find that when I think I’m stuck, I’m really just where I usually am in life…and yet, something feels off so now I feel stuck…and then…well, then, usually something at least semi-big starts happening inside.)
Thanks, Liz. I’m not sure if writing–just writing–is always the best thing. I mean, the best things (or words) don’t always come of it. But often that’s all I can do. Be me. Less explanation. More life as it truly is.
(And everything you said in parenthesis? Absolutely, completely, totally, one-hundred percent!)
An item in motion tends to remain in motion. By just stopping, you have violated a law of physics. That is why it feels so bad.
Well, that is my attempt at rationalization. I do hope your car is fixed or replaced soon. I live where there is little public transportation and without a vehicle, I am screwed.
In motion, remain in motion. I like it. And it works. And makes sense. When the wheels stop I start feeling helpless and that’s just suckage.
Can’t imagine a life without transportation, though. I’m not sure whether to commend your good deed for the environment or to sympathize. :)
Oh, the highs and the lows. I hear ya. I’m sorry your van rained on your (happy day) parade, and hope you get your wheels back soon!
Thanks, Amy!
What kind of assholery is this? Stuck in a broken van! As if you didn’t have better things to do.
I remember a few months ago when my car blew a flat in another town, and I had BOTH kids with me and AAA said it would be a two hour wait. A sadder sack of humanity was never seen. Man, did I whine.
Hoping you get a shiny new vehicle out of this!
Well, after attempting to fix it ourselves but running out of time we were forced to bring the van to a mechanic. Say goodbye to the first car payment of a shiny new vehicle. $463 later and we’ll still be trading the beast in next week.
Assholery at it’s finest, I do say!
Wow! I’m sorry to hear about the van. hmmmm. We finally had to get rid our our CRV last year because it was too small for us. I thought it was on it’s last legs, but the guy I gave it to said he hasn’t had a single problem with it yet (it’s over 200k miles). Meanwhile, I’m regretting ever getting rid of it. Sorta sucks, and i know it’s not totally relevant to your post. I just can’t think of anything very supportive to say. I hope it get’s resoved. :-/
Stuck. Your being stuck without your van to me is really just a metaphor for how I feel most days. Unable to move because I can’t decide which way to go. Can’t move because my house is a disaster and I just want to get out of the house but then it will stay a disaster. Stuck because I can’t say the words I want to say to many people but then the matter never gets resolved. Stuck. My wheels of my car are working just fine but I’m still STUCK!
I hope your van is on the mend and will be back healthy soon! I agree – relying on others to get places is Sucky! (or Stucky).
I love reading your train of thought, and I love that you write it all out for us.
Hope you get unstuck soon!
I humor myself with what I will post from time to time–like this post being nothing more than a freewrite, barely edited version of a diary entry. But this comment, short and simple, makes me understand that even this is okay sometimes. And that even posts like these tell our readers a little something more. How we work. Who we are. Etc. Etc.
Thanks, as always, for reading.
Oh boy do I relate to the idea of cruising along and then bam! your world is upside down. When I learned that J is going to be gone for a long while I felt as though the wind was knocked out of me, that somebody had just curbstomped my heart. The importance of living in the present and just ‘being’ is so clear to me now.
Life is still good, even in the suck. I’m learning this.
I have two boys 13 and 16 and life gets real interesting real quickly. The Artist’s Way is really a great tool for the stuck, blocked, insane artist!
When I was busy with my “little” kids I couldn’t imagine a time without them….now that’s all I do!