Tire Blew!

I was on my way to Burlington about a week or so ago when my passenger side front tire blew.   I had made it as far as the Ancaster Fairgrounds.    Any further  and it would have happened on the highway.   I called CAA thinking I would need a tow home and was alarmed to hear a message saying that due to Covid 19 their drivers were no longer taking passengers in the tow trucks.   The message stated that if your vehicle needed a tow,  you would have to find an alternate mode of transportation to get home.   That all too familiar feeling of fear and panic swept over me.   Followed by the urge to just burst into tears.   I had 3 dogs with me and I don’t have anyone at home to call upon for help.   I felt stranded and helpless.

I didn’t know if there were any taxi’s operating during covid.   If there were it would have to come from Brantford which was is a fair distance from where I was,  and would have to take me a half hour further away from Brantford in order to get me home.   And then there was the question of the dogs.   What taxi company is going to take three dogs ,  one of which gets carsick and is almost guaranteed to puke!!   Not to mention the cost.   Based on past experience I know that a taxi from any one of the neighbouring towns from my home costs close to $100 one way!    And I didn’t have that much money in my bank account.    I just sat in the car and cried.

I called my neighbour to see if he could possibly come and get me and he said he was fairly sure that I had a spare tire in my trunk.   Being as this is a second hand car and I’ve never had a car or van with a spare,  I had not considered that I might have a spare tire.  Fortunately he was right and I did have a spare which meant that CAA would send someone to change the tire and I could get myself home.   I had already cancelled classes since I knew I would not make it to Burlington that day.

I tried to remind myself of the “good” side to the ordeal   (1)  it didn’t happen on the highway;  (2)  I have CAA coverage;   (3)   I had a spare.

But still ….. I just wanted to go home and cry.

The ordeal was very stressful for which I admonished myself for being so reactive and overwhelmed.   To many this would be a minor annoyance and inconvenience, but for me it was triggering and larger than life.    Besides triggering the fear and panic associated with not having any money and always struggling and being short of funds, and the fear of ‘how am I going to make it?’;   it also reminded me of how isolated and alone I am.   The downfall of living in the country when you don’t have a support system to help you in situations where you need someone to come and get you (and dogs) when you’re stranded.   And the realization of how important it is to have extra money for emergencies.  

Extra money  ….. I wonder what that feels like?

 

Growing Up

I realize now that I’ve suffered from anxiety and the fallout from trauma my whole life.   As I’ve said previously,  I’ve never felt like I belong anywhere.   I didn’t have friends in school or out of school.   I didn’t seem to have the ability to form friendships.  And I know I wasn’t  “wanted”  in any of the kiddie cliques.  I just didn’t seem to fit in anywhere.   Birthday parties were extremely stressful.  Parents were in charge of the invites and saw to it that ALL the kids in their child’s class were invited.    Knowing that I was included out of obligation made me feel even more awkward and out of place.   Being alone in a group  >  ignored  >  not included in the games  >  being on the outside watching everyone else having fun.   The only thing worse was when the host parent would notice my exclusion and admonish their child, insisting that they include me.   This of course made me even more of a pariah.

It wasn’t until around grade six or seven that I made a friend at school.   One friend.  And she was the other kid who didn’t quite fit in.    At home I finally made a friend when we moved to the townhouse and my sister and I befriended the little girl next door,  and her brother who tagged along.   I’m pretty sure it was my sister who made first contact and I made a friend by default.   But regardless,  we had a neighbour friend for  two or three years before we moved out of the area.   

I left high school after grade ten in order to join a fulltime professional dance program.  I finished my education via correspondence courses.    I didn’t have “friends” per se at the dance studio.   I had acquaintances that I referred to as friends, but those friendships were not enduring and usually with whoever the other least popular person was.    The two shyest of the group.

It wasn’t until I entered the “dog” world that I made any friendships that have endured.  Within the dog community I have people I’ve known now for over 25yrs and with whom I’m still in contact.

 

Food/Eating In Public

“Family style”  …… words that instantly intimidate.   Let’s serve things family style.   No please, let’s not.     Anytime eating involves a serve yourself buffet approach I feel very uncomfortable.   I feel like I’ll be judged for what or how much food I select and be criticized for it.   My mother always gave that “look” that said ‘don’t embarrass me’;  and verbalized more that once,  “people will think you’re a glutton”.   She always had something to say about how much and what people ate.   She criticized overweight people for they were eating and body shaming was par for the course both at home and at ballet.

To this day I feel uncomfortable eating in front of people I’m not used to.  Eating in front of people makes me incredibly self conscious.    Even when I work on tv/film sets I’m not able to eat in the lunch room with other crew members.   I will take my food back to my car and eat alone.  The only time I’m able to eat in the lunch room is if I have a co-wrangler working with me.   And even then I’m self conscious.   I will take too little food for fear of someone thinking I’m taking too much.   I fear that my choice of food will make someone say about me, the things my mother said about other people.  

I can remember being out with some other dancers one time and they were ordering decadent desserts,  and I ordered a bran muffin.   I was too embarrassed to eat a decadent dessert because I was sure everyone would think I was too fat to indulge in such a treat.   All those years of listening to my mother say,  “look what she’s eating no wonder she’s so fat”,   and  “how can anyone so fat have the nerve to eat something like that in public”.    And even though I was skinny  ….. I was terrified of being considered a “pig” for eating something someone ‘might’ think was unsuitable.    And I still carry that fear to this day.

 

Pain and Rain

I’m in a  great deal of pain today.   I’m not sure what I did to set my back off but this past week has been a lot of pain.

It’s a gloomy rainy day today and the roof is leaking.   I have a big garbage can in the living room catching the water.  It’s more than a drip > it’s an open faucet!   The roof has needed repair for a couple of years now but I can’t raise enough money to fix it.   Dear God please make it stop raining !!!!!!

So here I sit,  resting my back,  in a room with rain coming through the ceiling,  with 5 dogs and 2 cats lying on top of me.   A foxhound, a beagle,  and 3 small dogs.   It’s raining too heavily for the dogs to go outside so we are all having a lazy day until it stops.   Pain meds are on boar for my back and the critters provide a warm blanket.

 

Misery Loves Company

I think I’ve mentioned this before but not sure I articulated it correctly.   In my world  misery loves company = you are looking for someone to commiserate with you.  Someone to support your claims and emotions.  It was a phrase used to dismiss ones feelings as a ploy to gain sympathy.    “you just want someone to agree with you and feel sorry for you”

 

Panic and Fear

I got a notice in the mail today.   At first I thought it was for a package to pick u but then I noticed that it was addressed to both my father and I,  and required ID to receive it.

Cue Panic And Fear!

My stomach turned.  That nausea butterfly combo feeling.  And my heart beating so hard I could feel it in my chest and hear it pounding in my ears.

Who do I know that doesn’t know my father has passed?   Who would be sending a letter or package requiring ID to collect it?   My mind is reeling.   And it’s not going to a good place.  I know it sounds crazy but it’s a feeling of absolute terror.   The panic and fear are overwhelming. 

The unknown.  I don’t deal with it well.   Heck I don’t even deal with the ‘known’ all that well most of the time!

I’m trying to calm my mind.   Telling myself that I can’t do anything to change whatever the letter or package is,  and worrying about what it “might” be isn’t serving any useful purpose.

 

Do You Want To Talk About It?

Yes I do.  But who wants to listen?  I feel like I need someone to connect with on a personal level.   Someone who can listen without judgement and accept me for who I am despite my ‘story’.   Someone to be on my side.   Someone who is willing to listen no matter how much or how often I need to talk it out.   Someone who is not a therapist but just a person to trust and feel safe with.   I’ve never had ‘this person’  in my life.   I don’t know who ‘this person’ is or if there is a ‘this person’ out there for me,  but I really feel the need for a ‘this person’.  There are many days when I need someone to talk to but there’s no one.   Sean always says to reach out if in need of help but I don’t feel that I’m in enough of a crisis mode to intrude on his time.

 

Reactions

Why is it that the same trigger can evoke a more or less intense response/reaction at different times?   Trigger stacking.  When we have a lot on our plate we are less able to manage additional stressors.  There are several analogies for this.  One is the glass of water.  You add stones which represent stressors and as you add stones the water rises until it spills over.   Another is the bucket.   Same idea.  The more full the bucket, the closer the subject is to being over threshold.  The bucket analogy teaches that the bucket has to be emptied before going over threshold.   Another is the smoke alarm.  This one addresses our resources being tapped out affecting our reactions.  When the battery is  low the smoke alarm will go off randomly with false alarms.   So when we are overextended and tired our battery is low,  and we will react  (‘go off’)  as our system sends us false alarms (concerns/triggers)

The longer we carry trauma inside us,  the more susceptible we are to going over threshold.   Trauma affects our perceptions and our perceptions fuel our reactions.

 

Notes I Wrote Down  From Todays Discussion

Fight/Flight/Freeze  

Freeze  >  it’s not a choice.   Our system has no choice.

Anger is part of the process and if we don’t let anger out it becomes depressions

 

Mental Exhaustion

Therapy day was yesterday.   Today has been challenging.  Weepy.   Tired.   I’m not sure where the tears are coming from.  Yesterdays conversation with Sean was emotional and I had to fight back tears.   And yet today I can’t even remember what we talked about.   Last night I was feeling weepy and drained > emotionally raw > and I tried to reflect on what we’d talked about earlier in the day, and couldn’t remember.  What is happening to my memory?   I mean, we’re talking a matter of hours and I couldn’t and still can’t recall what we talked about.

 

The Letter

Part of my anxiety today revolved around the need to pick up the mysterious package from the post office.  I felt so emotionally and physically drained this morning that I  didn’t get up until noon.    I had planned to go to the laundromat today but didn’t have the energy.  Driving into town to go to the post office I was experiencing an anxiety attack and tears.   Fear of what this package might be and berating myself for being so unstable.

The package turned out to be a letter from the property tax people.   I was aware it was in arrears but [still] unable to do anything about it.  There’s just not enough money coming in to make ends meet.