I sat in the passenger seat while my son drove me to the store. I can still count the number of times we’ve practiced together since he got his learner’s permit. Half way across Montrose Road, it hits me…my eyes well up with tears and I quickly turn my head to look out the window and choke it down. I have officially reached my capacity for anxiety.
My poor, awesome son, who’s brave enough today to drive me further than he’s gone before doesn’t deserve to have to feel what I’m feeling. I’ve reached my limit. I’m done. But in the moment I can’t surrender. Our survival depends on it.
And even though there’s no particular good reason for my freak out, meaning he’s doing a good job driving the car, listening to my suggestions, and keeping us safe, I realize that the simple addition of these nerves today have taken me to my limit; they’re bumping me up against the border where I’m having difficulty hiding the fact that my tolerance has been met.
To the goddesses who I’ve promised regular self-care to, don’t worry, I’m on it. I understand I need to decompress and the appointments are already on the book. This is more about the awareness I had when the physical feeling of anxiety reached it’s limit inside of me, and how one survives, copes and perseveres despite it. It’s about understanding how much one can handle, and then taking on more than that; seeing what you’re made of.
So I decided to slap on my “Student Driver” sticker and apply it to my life; to re-embrace what it means to be alive, to be human, to feel and to really understand that I’m a beginner here. I decided to keep an open mind and decided that I might, just might, be able to handle more than I thought I could.
In the moment I took a few (or a hundred) deep breaths and we got to our destination and did our shopping and all was well. I thought about the ride home and what I’d do if the panic struck again. I moved that out of my mind and stuck to the assumption we would make it home and I would not have to resort to calling someone else to assist him. In between the paper aisle and the paint aisle at A.C. Moore, I flipped my switch and made a decision to be able to handle it.
And of course I did. I arrived home with some intense awareness. I know that I’m at a limit I’ve never been at before. My first ever high blood pressure reading at my physical last month should have clued me in, but I decided to ignore that and power on. But in the car, with my son, with absolutely no real reason, I felt my system say to me, “that’s all I can handle right now.”
I was forced to listen in a way I hadn’t been before.
Ugh. “Don’t wait for your house to burn down before you take the action you know you need to take to prevent it,” I hear my coach say. Is this it? I wonder. Is this that pre-cursor to the house going up in flames? I’m not sure I want to take my chances either way.
Today I’m being gentle with myself. Even with the added stress of different challenges of my current week I’ve decided to breathe and let go more often, with a focus on less visceral attachment to those things; to wondering if I did something wrong. I’m sitting on top of the fence labeled “My limit” and I’m balancing there, waiting to see…
For now I’m okay up there. I have good balance. I know how to adjust to prevent a fall. Sooner or later it will be a good idea to come back down to solid, stable, predictable, boring ground though. I’m counting on learning what I need to learn to keep me safe, no matter if I’m teetering or back down to earth. For now I think I’ll keep that “Student driver” sticker visible, and not pretend I know more than I do about how this world works or what I’m supposed to do to fix things.
Sometimes it’s a relief to be a beginner again.
