SarahAnnAlien's Journal: Lessons

I haven't written here in a while. Not since January.

The truth is that I was having a difficult couple of months, and I didn't want to write about how bad things were getting. After a certain point, I began to worry that people might find out how bad things were.

And things just seemed to get worse and worse.

Then, somehow, I managed to do something that surprised me: I wrote to my Dad and told him that I needed more help than I was getting.

Now, granted, I didn't do a spectacular job of it; I managed to scare the crap out of him. Poor guy. But hey, when you desperately need to ask for help, and you're used to hiding your struggles from your loved ones, the only important thing is to actually ask. There are no extra points for style.

So, the next day, Dad dropped everything he was doing and came down to visit.

We talked for a few hours. It was difficult at first. But eventually, we were doing a little bit better job of communicating.

Then the two of us went to see my therapist. Dad met with her first for a few minutes. He told me later that he really liked her; I think that has to be a good sign. Then the three of us met for a while, and talked about communication, and the kinds of things that Dad could do to help support me through my difficult journey.

After the visit with my therapist, Dad and I drove out to a remote parking lot where I work, and Dad had me practice driving.

This was a Very Big Deal.

See, I got my driver's license back in, oh, 1987 or so. I practiced driving just enough to take the test, then passed the test, got my license in the mail, put it in my wallet, and absolutely refused to drive again.

Exactly why I did this is a matter of some speculation; my favorite theory is that, for me, it represented adulthood, and since something seemed to have gone very, very wrong somewhere, I refused to let any grown-up-ish things into my life. So... no driving. No. Absolutely not. I. Do. Not. Drive. That's why. You can't make me!

But then we finally figured out the whole alien thing. And now that I've had two years of very good therapy with a therapist who has the correct diagnosis, it's become kind of obvious that not being able to drive is beginning to hold back my progress, particularly living in Southern California. And while I had talked about maybe taking some driving lessons or something, and started looking at what it might take to actually go buy a car, I hadn't really done all that much about it.

So, Dad said, hey, let's go practice, and given that it was spring break, the parking lots were completely empty, and given that I already have a completely valid license, and given that I knew this was something I had to get past in order to move forward... well, I just sort of ran out of excuses.

So, I drove. Around in circles. Up and down the parking lot. I pulled into parking spaces. I drove along lines. We spent about an hour total. I didn't do all that bad for someone who hadn't been behind the wheel in 18 years. The Dad told me to pull out of the parking lot and make a left. That was a little scarier, because now I was on a Real Road! And then someone was behind me for a little while, and that was kind of scary. But I managed to drive all the way around campus and pull up in front of my office!

I was exhausted afterwards. I made Dad drive home. Actually, we went to a Japanese restaurant, and then we went home.

The next morning we went to a different parking lot and tried some of the same stuff. It went okay. Except for one time, when Dad told me to take a right, and I knew I should just have said no, but I did what he said, and then all of a sudden, I was not only on a Real Road, but a Real Big Road With Lights And Everything. But I drove around the block and made it back to safety. We also tried some parallel parking... I don't think I'll be doing much of that in the short term.

Then we had lunch, and after lunch, we were talking about going to look at cars, or having Dad help me with some court paperwork, so that Dad could help me as much as he possibly could in the time that he was down here, but again, I surprised myself. I told him that I really appreciated the effort but that we had done as much as I needed him to help me with for the time being. Which turned out to be okay. I had thought he might be angry that I didn't want to do more stuff, but it was fine. I went back to the office; I had taken a day and a half off for Dad's visit.

So, Dad gave me a hug, told me he loved me, and went home.

In the days that followed, I thought a lot about Dad's visit.

I am really lucky. A lot of parents wouldn't be willing to give their alien child this much help. Heck, a lot of parents would have simply abandoned someone like me. Dad's a great guy, and he really loves me, and I love him too.

I also noticed that, after Dad's visit, I immediately felt better. More relaxed or something. I had thought my neurochemistry had gotten out of balance again, but after Dad's visit, things just seemed ok. I think I just needed a little parental attention. And maybe it was really important for me to have *him* give me some driving lessons. Maybe I'm trying to salvage the pieces of my childhood that I botched so badly the first time around. Maybe I needed Dad to be a part of that. I don't really know.

Things gradually returned to normal; the days became less dark, and I felt a little less panicked about the future.

And then came last Thursday.

I was walking home from work, and my cell phone rang. It was Dad. He was at his local car dealer, and he needed my driver's license number, because he was buying me a car.

Dad was buying me a car!

We had talked about this during his visit, but, I don't know, it seemed like he might help me buy a car someday or something; help me figure out the money, the weasely used car dealers, the test drives, all that complicated stuff.

Nope... it was just: here's your car!

And, now... I have a car. Me. A car. *My* car. It's kind of hard for me to get my mind around.

But two hours around the parking lots isn't going to cut it, not on the mean, crowded streets of Southern California. Well, that's ok, Dad can keep it until I'm ready. Maybe... oh, next year?

Nope, Dad and Stepmom are coming down in two weeks. They're bringing my car.

Eeeeek! Guess I'll need those lessons after all. And fast!

So, last week I called to schedule the lessons. The first one is tomorrow at 9:30am. I have four lessons scheduled this week, and then we'll see how I'm doing; if I need more, I'll take more next week. My boss is letting me take time off during the work day for the lessons. (Well, I made up most of the time last weekend anyway).

Tonight I had pepperoni pizza for dinner. If I die in a horrible car crash during tomorrow's lesson, I didn't want my last dinner to be tofu! But I keep reminding myself that all sorts of people can do this whole car-driving thing, and if they can do it, I should be able to figure it out. And I'm guessing that the driving school hardly ever loses a student!

And Dad called tonight to wish me luck, too.

So, that's a small part of what's been going on here.

Now I'm off to bed; tomorrow I'm off to meet my destiny, yet again. But this time, I won't have to take the bus!