I like you but……I’m not going to your thing.
Your kids are great, but mine aren’t going to their thing either.
If your things tend to be in Metairie or Gentilly or just Out That Way, I’m….. not going there. Can’t do it. I suppose it’s as ridiculous as anything else about me, but I’m just not a comfortable driver.
I do not do highways.
I do not do unfamiliar areas alone.
When it comes to driving- just as with any activity that involves leaving my house and interacting in some way with other people, it’s only a matter of time before my asshole brain starts up with it’s bullshit.* If I’m driving in car surrounded by other cars, that sort of panic becomes dangerous to not just me, but my kids, and everyone around me. My anxiety ends up in a variety of ways, exactly none of which are conducive to safe driving, and I can’t predict it.
Being a passenger isn’t much more fun for me. If I’m on the highway for more than ten minutes, I’m doing breathing exercises and focusing on some spot on the floor while gripping the grab handle** so hard that my hand hurts when the car finally stops.
Ever look around at other drivers and see how many of them are texting or fiddling with devices while they’re driving? It’s so so incredibly stupid how many people I see doing this. Sometimes I count how many seconds the driver next to me has had their eyes down while going 60+ mph, and when I get to five I hate that person more than anything else at the moment.
I’ve tried explaining this to people and I don’t think they get it. And that’s fine-unless they proceed to tell me how it’s just so simple to get to the place where their thing is and that it’s just off this highway after I’ve just explained that I am not comfortable driving there. That is akin to telling a depressed person to just stop being sad in my book. Vehophobia*** is just another thing my old anxiety catches under its umbrella these days as my faith in humanity has waned.
It doesn’t have a huge negative impact on my life, aside from not going to Things and missing out on solo Target runs, I guess. It helps that I’ve been in this phase I enjoy being a homebody.
I do drive around the familiar bits of the city. I suppose this would be worse if I lived in the middle of nowhere, but there are more fun things to do in two miles of New Orleans than in the entire county where I grew up, so the girls are not missing out on too much either.
So…. I am sorry, but I’m not going to your thing. I’m not going camping. I’m not going to any weddings. funerals, or family reunions.I’m not going even going to an all expense paid trip to Disney if it means piling into a car and driving there.
*I’m pretty sure this is the clinical terminology.
**I’m definitely sure this is the correct term for the ‘oh shit!’ bar.
***I was surprised this had its own word.
I am every person in this scene at once^^
