Bumper

Last night, while driving alone on interstate 90, after a Les Miserables Rehearsal, the thundering and scary sound of my muffler hitting the pavement and then being dragged behind me boomed in my ears.

Great.
Just great.
I muttered to myself.
As I pulled over in the dark night, to assess if what I heard was actually my muffler.
And if in fact it was, if it was still attached to my car.


Great.
Just great.
I muttered again, as I stared at my muffler, and the little clip that was supposed to be holding it together.

I called a friend.
Who said I could probably make it home.
And that someone would have to look at in the morning.

And then I had a crazy think.
Great.
Just great.

Because I'm trying to think less crazy thinks.
And I was annoyed that my greatest concern.
At the moment.
As my car sat broken on the side of a busy interstate was:

"How am I going to get to the gym and get my work out in."

Not, how will I get home?
Will I be safe?
How I will I get to a mechanic?
How much will it cost?
Do I have the money to get it fixed?

Nope.

"How do I get to the box tomorrow morning?"

A big piece of that is just how I deflect stress.
Because truly, there was nothing I could for the car at that moment.
And I had to get to work the next day, so figuring out how to get to the gym was also a question of how I get to work.

But.
My little inside self.
The one I try not to show very often because I have the irrational think that people like my put together facade more than the broken down version, spoke loud and clear.

I'm actually not worried about the gym.
I'm worried about disappointing people.
Disappointing me.

And my adult self thought, why?
Because we have no control over other people.
And if you choose to feel disappointed about not making it to the gym, that's a real feeling, that we're allowed to feel.

Changing up routine does suck.
And perhaps.
For the first time in my whole life, my little inside self was like, "Wait, really?  It's okay to feel disappointed?"

And my working on feeling feelings self was like, "Ahhh, yup."

And suddenly.
My think wasn't so crazy.
It was just a feeling.
That I was allowed to feel.

And good therapy.
Great therapists.
Crazy good like that.

Now.
The ending of the story is, I made it home.
Went to bed.
And this morning.
Duck taped my muffler to my trunk.
Drove to the gym.

Worked out :).
And then went to work.
(My trainer, Hawk, a skilled mechanic, also laid eyes on it and was like, um, I mean, it will get you to a mechanic.)

So.
Later today I'll get it reattached.
And get my 5k in.

But.
Thinks.
Man.
Crazy thinks.

And not that my Les Mis family read the blog - BUT - this was almost a post about Spirit Animals.
Hahahahaha.
Ah.
Theater.
In case anyone is wondering.
My spirit animal?
Manatee.
(I picked it because it's big.
And cumbersome.
And ugly.
And lives in the water.
And that was sad.

But then I started reading about them as an actual spirit animal...and I think I was SPOT on.)



Comments

  1. duct tape. Love it.I also like your choice of spirit animal.
    Manatee's are a good animal. Gentle. Diane

    ReplyDelete

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