I drove to work again this morning. The newness of the whole thing has only worn off a little bit, which isn't too surprising, since I've only done it twice. I got to work early again, and got a really easy parking space again.

The day went ok; I got more sleep last night so I wasn't so exhausted. The thing that needed to go live went live. All was well.

But by lunchtime, my palms were all sweaty, because I knew it would soon be time for me to leave on my Big Scary Drive to my therapist's office. My first time on the Big Scary Roads by myself, during the day, in actual traffic.

I left my office at about 1pm. I thought that this would be way too early, but as it turned out, I didn't make it out of the building and all the way to my car until 1:15. I'm not sure how that happened.

So, I drove... out the parking lot, down the street, onto the freeway... all the scary stuff I've now practiced a half dozen times.

It was ok. No problems. Traffic was pretty light.

Well, I did kind of get stuck behind this really slow truck, which I thought was just fine because everyone else seemed to want to go 80 or so, but then I realized the truck was full of fertilizer or manure or something like that. Yucky. Fortunately, the next exit was mine.

Made it off the freeway safely, down the road, into the parking lot at therapist's office, park.

Wow, I made it? Wow! Cool! Time? 1:35.

This is kind of funny to me. My first appointment with my therapist was almost exactly two years ago. I was terrified, didn't know where I was going or why, and wasn't sure whether or not I'd be able to get there on the bus. So I prepared... many, many different maps. Printouts from therapist's web page... printouts from the bus company's web page... printouts from yahoo maps... all encased in clear plastic page protectors (well, what if it rains!). I took the whole day off work to make the journey. And I left at 8am... for a 2:00 appointment. Or maybe it was 1:30. Something like that. I would arrive by 9:30 or 10:00, and hang out in the public library for three or four hours.

The first six months or so were like that.

The following year, I would generally leave work around 11:30, which was the longest I could stay at work and still leave a margin for error in the bus schedules. I wouldn't get back until 4:30 or 5, so I still missed the whole afternoon, but at least I didn't have to take the whole day off.

So, here we are, two years later... and I can make my epic journey in... about 20 minutes.

Evidence of progress, maybe?

I thought about this as I sat in *my* car in the parking lot. Yes, it appears that things are changing. Progress is being made.

I went up to the therapist's office and waited for her. She was on time, but I was early, so I sat in the waiting room for 15 minutes or so.

I had a lot of fun telling her about the car thing. She didn't know about any of it. It was only, oh, four weeks ago that she met with me and Dad. She didn't know he bought me a car. She didn't know about the driving lessons. She didn't know that I drove to her office.

I had a big grin on my face as we sat down. I told her I had big news. I pulled my car key out of my purse and showed it to her. She knew, in general, what it meant, and was suitably impressed.

I spent the next half hour telling her about all my driving adventures over the past few weeks. She was very happy for me, and glad to hear that I was working so hard on this. We actually talked about the driving thing the first time I saw her; I don't think she'd ever had a client that didn't drive. (Which isn't surprising; the bus service to her neighborhood isn't all that great.)

We spent the rest of the time talking about other random stuff. (Translation: stuff I'm not really ready to talk about in my journal yet.) Actually, I was a little bummed that it took me so long to talk about *what* happened, that I didn't have any time to talk about *why* it happened, or what it meant, or how I felt about it. I think I'll make my appointments a little more frequently, now that I can get there a little more easily.

And then we were done... and I was back in my car. Back on the freeway. Driving back the way I came. Before I knew it, I was back on campus, and back in my office.

Total time? About two and a half hours. Compared to the five and a half hours that the bus used to take, that's not really bad at all!

I noticed two significant things on the way back.

First, merging onto a freeway still scares me to death. I'm still not confident enough in what I see in the mirrors. I'll have to work on that.

Second, I was quite surprised to find... I was a little disappointed when I got back to the office. I was actually starting to enjoy the drive!

I really enjoyed getting back to work early enough to have time to actually do more stuff that afternoon. I cleaned up some logging that I hadn't been entirely comfortable with (good), but by the time I finished, the program would simply quit when asked to process a request (bad). Some debugging will be in order tomorrow, I think!

The drive home from work was a little better; I took a slightly more obvious route, which was straightforward until I ended up in a rather peculiar lane and was unable to determine whether it was a left-turn-only lane or a left-turn-or-straight lane. I wanted to go straight, but the only arrow I could see on the pavement looked a lot like a fuzzy left arrow that needed repainting. So, just in case, I turned, which was fine, and now that I think about it, is probably the best way to go, but at the time I felt very confused.

The rest of the week should be quieter and less eventful; I don't have anything special planned. Just driving to and from work like everybody else!

I'm sure I'll get used to it too... eventually.

My first day driving to and from work went ok.

I woke up really early to avoid traffic. I left about ten till seven. There wasn't much traffic. The giant pothole along my route that I had made a special note to avoid... was apparently filled in within the last couple of days. When I got to campus, the parking lot was pretty much empty; I parked in a super easy space. My driving instructor would have said it was too easy.

So, it went really well... other than the fact that I got up two hours too early, had a stomach ache all day long, and was so tired that I struggled to get anything done at work.

Work was kind of a disaster all around. The main database machine had a hardware failure over the weekend, so I had to wait for it to come back before I could finish some important stuff, but that was okay, there's always plenty of other stuff to do. And then the air conditioning in the machine room died. And one of our sysadmins dropped a tape drive on the floor over the weekend (which means, goodbye one tape drive). And another sysadmin is going to have to have one of his cats put to sleep.

So, all things considered, *my* day went pretty well. I was tired and my tummy hurt. I cleaned up some code in the morning, added a couple features, and closed a potential security hole. Later in the afternoon, the database came back, and I finished up some important stuff that will probably go live tomorrow.

Oh, and Dad called at lunchtime to ask how my drive to work had gone. Isn't he sweet?

Ten hours after arriving, my tummy and I were ready to go home. But... oh no... I'll have to drive home, huh?

Well, maybe I'll just stay at work forever...

Sigh... ok... let's try driving home.

In all fairness, it went just fine. I got home safely and managed to park in my tiny parking space just fine.

The fact that, um, I got sort of lost on my way home from work... well, that's not really important, is it? And, well, it's only a five minute drive from work to home anyway, so how lost could I really get? I found the right road eventually, didn't I?

In my own defense, though, they *have* changed the roads over there quite a bit. There's a new parking lot, and I wasn't familiar with how they redid the roads. Now that I know, I probably won't make that same mistake again.

I also discovered that "the back way will be easier" isn't necessarily the case. Apparently, a *lot* of people think that, and they're all on the very crowded road at the same time. I almost missed my turn because I couldn't get into the right lane. I'm not very good (or brave) about tight lane changes in traffic just yet.

And then there was the fire truck, and the paramedics... I'm glad they figured out how to wiggle through that mess of traffic! I would have pulled over, but there wasn't anywhere to pull over *to*! There was a bus beside me, and a truck in front of me. I just stayed put. The fire truck zipped right by without even slowing down. Must be handy to be able to drive on the other side of the road, against traffic! But how scary! I don't think I'd want to drive a fire truck.

All things considered, I think tomorrow I'll try to take the short way home; it can't really be any worse, I don't think.

But the scary part for tomorrow... I have an appointment with my therapist. 2pm.

I'll have to leave about 1pm; 1:30 would probably be fine, but I need to give myself plenty of time for my first attempt.

I know exactly how to get there. Down very long, fast, downhill surface street, then onto the freeway, stay in left lane, immediately change to other freeway. Lane change to right to get out of fast lane. Drive a bit. Lane change to left to get into lane that isn't the fast lane anymore. Drive some more. Exit. Up very long, fast uphill street. Don't miss the left turn. Change lanes. Turn right. Turn into parking lot. Park.

The whole thing sounds so easy... if it weren't for the other cars, I think it would be. Maybe it will be anyway.

I guess I'll find out tomorrow, huh?

It still seems weird.

I have a car. This is my car. Whose car is that? Oh, that's mine. I parked my car over there.

Sorry, I realize car ownership is normal and ordinary for most people. I just... never really envisioned myself owning a car, I guess.

Then again, I never really envisioned myself being who I am now. Life is weird, and full of surprises.

So, what was my first day with a car like?

I woke up before dawn. I stayed in bed as long as I could. I wasn't excited; I was actually very nervous.

I knew that sooner or later I'd have to take my car for a drive, and that early Sunday morning would be the quietest and safest time to do it. The longer I stayed in bed, the more traffic I'd have to deal with.

So I finally dragged my nervous little self out of bed. Took a shower and stuff, just like a normal workday. I skipped breakfast, though; I was too nervous to eat.

At 7am, I was sitting in my car. Ready to go?

Gulp.

Ok, ok... I know I can do this. I hope.

Adjust the mirrors... hmm, I can't see out the back. I can't drive like that! It's fogged or something. Wait, I think there's a button for that or something... fiddle a bit... grr... chek manual... more fiddling... wait... grrr...

I got out and wiped the dew off the back window with my hand.

Ok, back in the car... power on... windshield wipers... ok, now I can see out the front, too... mirrors ok, seat ok, seatbelt on. Time to start the engine... ok.

Ready to go?

I backed out of my parking space very carefully. It was easier than during my lessons; my car is smaller than the training car was. I drove slowly through the parking lot. Hmm, my car feels different than the training car; it's more sensitive when it accelerates.

I pulled up to the gate leading out of the parking lot, and pushed the button on the remote to open it.

Through the gate, signal, turn... ok.

Wow. I'm driving my car! By myself! On the road!

Now what?

Therapist's office, definitely. I have to go for real on Tuesday afternoon; one more practice run seems like a good idea, particularly since I've never driven there by myself.

Okay, get in the correct lane, signal, turn... go very fast!

Yikes! I'm driving my car on the freeway!

And it's... ok.

I changed lanes to avoid a repeat of the whole tailgater thing from last week, but in fact, nobody ever showed up behind me. This time, though, I remembered to get back into the correct lane before winding up on the wrong freeway.

Ten minutes, fifteen minutes... ok, there's my exit. No problem. Down the road, down the road... turn... change lanes... turn again... Ok, there's the parking lot... turn in... which space should I try... ok... slowly... ok... stop. Open the door to check parking... oops, not so good... back up a little and adjust. Ok. Much better. Turn off the engine.

I made it? I made it! Whew!

I checked the time... yep, 20 minutes.

I rested a few minutes. I was kind of astonished that I had actually made it. But also very excited.

There wasn't anything else to *do* there; everything was closed and quiet. So, I started the car up again and headed back the way I came.

This time, though, I went back to my office. Well, to the parking lot, anyway. I parked there too, just for practice. Ok... no problem with that.

Now what?

Well, better head home. Hmm, let's take the long way.

I drove home. Pulled up to the gate. Pushed the button. Up the ramp to the parking lot. Down to my space.

Ok, first try in the world's least convenient parking space. Turn... nope, not going to make it... back up a little... turn more... ok... ok... stop. Open the door to check. Perfect? Wow... how did I do *that*?

I went back into my apartment. I checked the time again. It was just after 8am. My big adventure had taken... about an hour.

I drove my car! I totally, totally just *drove* my car! *My* car! All by myself! Yay! Giggle! This is sooooo cool!

I celebrated with a small glass of juice.

I was supposed to call Dad around 8, so I tried, but got voicemail. I left him a message: "I just got back... call me if you want to hear about it!"

I waited, and he called back about 20 minutes later. He was very happy for me.

He asked if I wanted to meet them for breakfast aat the place where we didn't end up going for dinner last night. Ummm... ok. 9:30? Sure, that would be fine. Ok, see you then. Bye.

The restaurant in question is a 15-20 minute drive from my apartment. 45 minutes by bus.

I sat around for a few minutes, but finally decided to just go. So I got back into my car and headed off!

I knew the way. I drove along the same route the bus had taken for the six years I lived in that neighborhood.

I got to the right area, and decided that, since I was early, I would go shopping for a few minutes. Once I pulled into the mall parking lot, though, I realized I was only five minutes early, so decided to skip that.

But now I had to figure out how to get to the other side of the street... hmm... confusing... right turn only... ok... oops, now I can't get all the way over in time... ok, ok, just go down another block... ok, turn and go around... hmm, where am I going? Now I'm behind the other mall, which is where I want to be, but there's nowhere to turn... ok, keep going... ok, here's a place to turn... now I'm on the right road, too far east, and going the wrong direction! Grr. Ok, turn again... again... ok, turn here again, but this time go left... ok... ok, there's the restaurant, one more left turn, into the parking lot... pick a place to park, careful... ok... ok, stop and check... close enough. Wow, I made it again!

Dad, Stepmom, and Grandma were just getting out of their car as I arrived. They were happy to see me. They asked how the driving went. I told them it had been ok.

We had breakfast and chatted. They asked what I was going to do with the rest of the day. I told them I didn't know. We finished breakfast. Took pictures. Hugs for everyone. Thanked Dad yet again for the car. And then they left to drive home.

Ok, now what should I do? Hmm, better drive home, I guess.

Drove home... decided, on the way, that I should go grocery shopping instead. Drove past home and went to the store. Found a place to park very far away from the store; I figured there would be less pressure there when it was time to back out!

I went into the store and grabbed a shopping cart. It was immediately weird... I don't *use* a shopping cart! I get the little handheld basket; it's an easy way to make sure I don't get more stuff than I can carry home...

Not a problem anymore.

The problem turned out to be that I have absolutely no idea how to shop when carrying capacity is no longer an issue. What do I buy? How much do I buy? Now that I don't have to carry them, do I want to buy three of these, or a bottle of that? Wow... I can buy anything I want!

It was actually a little disorienting. I piled the cart full. Took everything to the checkout. The cart was so heavy that it was actually hard to push!

Seventy-five dollars later, my groceries and I were headed to my car. I loaded everything into the trunk with plenty of room to spare. And I took a picture! My first grocery run!

I drove back home and managed to park in my parking space yet again. Another successful trip. It took me about six trips to get everything out of the trunk, but this time, the trips were just out to my parking space. Not a half mile to the store each time.

Wow... wow.

Feeling a bit overwhelmed, I decided to rest at home for a while. A friend called. We talked for about an hour. I told him about my car.

Have I had lunch yet? Well, no... I could meet you... someplace close? I'm still not that brave about my driving... ok, see you in a few minutes.

Another place to drive to! But this one was close by.

Once there, I had my first goof... I tried to get into a parking space that just wasn't going to happen. Eventually realized it and gave up, and found a better parking space.

Walked over to check out the car wash/gas station nearby, then met my friend. Oops, the restaurant we had in mind wasn't open yet. We went to another one. Had a nice lunch. Came back. He showed me the dent in his car; someone bumped into his car at church this morning. I showed him my car. Then he left.

On my own again!

I needed gas... and I wanted to get my car washed, too. Dad had washed it before he left town, but unfortunately he drove through some kind of a bug storm on his way here, and the front was... icky. But, that was why I had chosen this particular restaurant; I knew the gas station and car wash were right next door. So I drove over.

Gas first? Pull up to the pump. Now what do I do? Insert credit card. Ok... enter this number. Ok. Choose gas. Ok. Now remove nozzle... oops, unscrew the gas cap first... ok, nozzle in, squeeze the lever. I hear something happening. Check the display.

Wow, gas really *is* expensive, isn't it?

I managed to get the gas pumped without any real difficulty. I looked over at the car wash area, but there was kind of a crowd there, so I decided to skip it, despite the dead bugs. I'll try that again some other time.

I drove home. Back into my parking space. Hmm, I'm starting to get the hang of this, I think!

I put up the sun shade; it turned out the pink flowers I chose are slightly silvery and match my car very nicely; at least *I* don't think it looks stupid. Then I spent some time checking out all the safety gear Dad had left in my trunk, and used some paper towels and soapy water to remove the worst of the bug goo. My car still needs to be washed.

My car. Did I mention I have a car?

A short nap seemed like a good idea after my busy day... I ended up sleeping two hours.

And now I'm waiting for the laundry to finish so I can go to bed.

Tomorrow will be my first drive to work! Which is, admittedly, only five minutes away. But it will be a big deal for me.

The car is here. My car. The car Dad bought for me.

Well, it's not *here* in my living room, it's upstairs in my parking space. Grandma is here. Dad and Stepmom are off Square Dancing somewhere.

Grandma and I are watching Mr. Bean. She's chuckling. Good sign.

Dad said they would leave between 7 and 9, so I expected them to show up anytime after 10:30, since it's a three and a half hour drive on a good day. Just before 9, Dad called to say they were leaving, but I was in the shower and didn't notice the message until about 11:30. In the meantime, I finished my shower and stuff and then tidied up as quick as I could.

By 12:30, I was very nervous. They'd be arriving any minute. And they were going to ask *me* to drive everyone to lunch. I was dreading it.

The phone rang. They left later than they had said in the phone message. They had stopped for lunch, and were still an hour and a half away. Now they'd arrive by 2:30. Whew. A brief reprieve. And I wouldn't have to drive everyone to lunch! Yay!

I tidied a little more, and made a sandwich for myself.

By 2:15 I was nervous again. Pacing. There wasn't really anything I could *do* while waiting.

The phone rang. Dad and Grandma were downstairs in the parking lot.

I went downstairs to meet them. They were standing behind my car, looking the other way, and they didn't see me coming. I tapped Grandma on the shoulder. Smiles! Hugs for everyone. Stepmom was following in her Prius, and would be along shortly. We waited for her in the parking lot.

I looked at my car. Wow. This is my car.

It didnt't sink in.

Stepmom arrived. I explain to her how to park her Prius in the guest spots in the lower lot. Dad decided to move my car into my parking space in the upper lot. He didn't make me drive! Another reprieve.

We went into my apartment and talked for a while. I told them about my driving lessons. They talked about the drive down.

Then they decided they wanted to take me to Wal-Mart to buy accessories for my car. Well, ok. Dad asked if I want to drive, and I said no... which was ok. He drove instead.

We drove to Wal-Mart in my car. My car. I rode in front on the passenger side.

Hmm... this is my car. That's my CD player. That's my air conditioning. That's my door handle. That's my arm rest. That's my passenger seat.

Nope... not sinking in one bit.

We arrived at Wal-Mart and found a handicapped space to park in. Grandma has a handicapped permit since she's in her 80's and has a very difficult time moving around.

Once inside Wal-Mart, we found the car accessories and they started telling me to pick out stuff, and picking stuff out for me. I ended up with an emergency kit, including jumper cables, first aid kit, and a snow shovel; two reflective triangles, a digital tire pressure gauge, wheel blocks, and I'm not sure what all else. A whole bunch of stuff. One thing I do remember picking out was the sun shade; I had several choices, and almost bought the plain grey one, but decided to get a pink one with a flower on it instead. Hope it doesn't look too silly.

The walk back to checkout was a long one for Grandma. We usually hold her hands when she walks, for added stability and safety.

We waited forever in the checkout line. The woman behind us in line noticed Stepmom's Habitat for Humanity shirt. Stepmom told her a little about their work, and referred her to their main website.

After enduring the slowest checkout line in the store, we slowly walked back to the car with Grandma. Everyone was hungry and wanted to eat dinner, and we decided on a restaurant a couple miles away. Then we passed another place while driving away from Wal-Mart and changed our mind. Dad was still driving, thank goodness.

We had dinner at a cafeteria-buffet-ish type place. Salad and pasta. Not bad. Frozen yogurt for desert. I had rainbow sprinkles. I don't actually *like* rainbow sprinkles, but I thought they were pretty, so I had some anyway.

We drove back to my apartment. Grandma and I stayed here, and Dad and Stepmom went to their square dancing thing. They'll be back by 11, they said.

So, Grandma and I are hanging out together for the evening!

First we sat together for a while, and I read the owner's manual for my car. My car.

Nope... still not sinking in.

Then we both had to go to the bathroom. Grandma went first, and needed help. Quite a lot of help, as it turned out. I had been worried that something like this would happen, but I was a little surprised to find that it was okay. No big deal. I wasn't grossed out; I've been through enough stuff that very little grosses me out anymore, and I wasn't even worried about that. I think I was more worried that it would be socially awkward, or that I wouldn't know what to do, but as it turned out, it seemed perfectly natural and ordinary, and we managed to figure everything out. The hardest part was waiting for *my* turn in the bathroom!

Then we decided to watch tv, and I have Mr. Bean on DVD. It seemed like a safe choice. Grandma seems to be enjoying it.

I still haven't driven my car yet. I think I'll try to take it for a test drive first thing in the morning. There shouldn't be much traffic then, so maybe I won't be quite as nervous.

My family is coming to visit tomorrow. Dad will probably drive my car. Stepmom will drive one of their other cars. Grandma will be along for the ride.

I don't entirely know what tomorrow will be like, but my guess is this: family shows up around lunchtime, we ooh and ahh my car for a bit, and they make me take them all for a drive. Then they leave Grandma with me while they go to their square dancing thing, and come back, pick her up, and go to their hotel.

So I'll have to watch Grandma all afternoon, but I get to keep the car. Pretty good pay for a babysitting gig!

I'm actually looking forward to hanging out with Grandma for a while, despite the fact that it's always a little awkward these days due to her memory problems. But Dad and Stepmom are high-energy people; they'll want to do a half dozen things during their one-day visit. Grandma will be happy to watch tv with me. Grandma is more my speed.

Particularly since I'm exhausted!

Today was the last driving lesson. Well, the last one scheduled, anyway. If I turn out to have trouble with anything, I'll schedule some more, but for now, we're done.

I decided to try for my therapist's office one last time; I'll have to go there for real on Tuesday, so I figured one more trial run would be a good idea. I got on the freeway just fine, but then we ended up with this guy tailgating us, and eventually I changed lanes to get him to go away, but then I was in the wrong lane, and ended up on a different freeway entirely. It turned out ok, though; we just ended up going a much longer way.

Longer meaning, five minutes longer. Make a mistake on the bus, and it usually costs a half hour to an hour around here. *This* is the part that will really change my life!

So we made it to my therapist's office, and I practiced parking, which was ok, but not great, and I realized that the spaces are quite large in that parking lot! Most of my parking practice has been with the ultra-tiny parking spaces on campus, so I misjudge things in other parking lots.

We got back on the freeway and headed back the other way, which was fine. We didn't go back to my office, though; we drove down into another community that has some slow but winding roads.

First stop, though, was a gas station. The instructor had to pee. He went in while I waited. When he got back, I decided that I should go too, so I left the instructor in the car while I went to the ladies room. But someone was already in there, so I waited... and waited.. and waited... Finally I gave up and went back to the car.

Where I learned that the instructor had accidentally spilled his drink on the driver's side seat. Oops.

He dried it as best he could, but it was still very wet. We stood there a few minutes trying to figure out what to do, and eventually I thought to go back into the gas station convenience store to see if they sold trash bags. As it turned out, they didn't sell trash bags, but the nice clerk gave us a big industrial-size trash bag for free, and we used it to cover the driver's seat.

I sat down on it... cold and squishy... eeew. But not wet.

We decided to keep going. We still had an hour to go for my last lesson.

I decided to try to drive to my dentist's office, which was more or less nearby. But then there was a lot of traffic near the gas station parking lot, so I decided to just make an easy right turn instead, and see where we ended up.

We ended up driving north... up the coast, with a nice ocean view... back up to campus. Across the street from my office, actually. I didn't want to go there yet, so I continued north, looking for an interesting place to turn. Found a place to turn; ended up in the parking lot for a large office building. Practiced parking. It went ok, but I was going a little too fast. No harm done.

Pulled out of that lot, went down the street, made another turn. Ended up at the glider port, a place I had heard of but never actually been to. It's a cliff next to the ocean where people fly hang gliders. Nice view. Dead end road. Turned around and went back.

Drove all the way back down the coast. Passed the gas station and continued south. Down into a quiet downtown-ish sort of area. Drove around the block where my dentist has her office. Wondered where I would be able to park.

Drove back up the coast again, and this time went to my office. Pulled up out front and turned around. Chatted with the instructor for another ten minutes and got some more driving tips.

I thanked him and told him that I thought he was a great teacher. I explained how much I appreciated all his help.

And then we were done.

When the instructor drove away, I actually felt relieved and excited... It was the like the last day of school had just ended, and summer vacation was starting. No more driving lessons!

Of course, the scary part is that the *lessons* are over, but now the driving without the instructor has to start! Eeek!

As I walked back to my office, I checked my butt to make sure my jeans hadn't gotten wet from sitting in drink-spillage-central for the past hour. Oops... slightly damp. But not too bad.

I went to reward myself with one last cheeseburger. I managed to avoid the problematic cashier.

The afternoon wasn't particularly productive. I was just too tired and relieved, and a little stressed about the busy weekend coming up. My brain just refused to *do* anything.

Finally I left a little early and walked home. The last walk home for a long time, I suspect.

I made it home and had a light snack consisting of a half a tub of chocolate almond clusters and a bowl of pretzels. Tried to take a nap but was too tired, so I just sort of laid there on the couch for a couple hours. Got a tummyache from all the chocolate.

Got up, took another bubble bath. That seems to help a lot after a long driving lesson. Wish I'd discovered that earlier. Out of the bath, clean clothes... plopped back down on the couch. Not actually doing anything, no tv, no music, nothing to read. I was just too tired to do anything. Just sat and spaced out.

Finally found enough energy to put my jeans in the wash. Besides beverage dampness, the training car kind of smells like nervous teenagers... also managed to clean the kitchen a little. Managed to cook a chicken-mushroom-and-artichoke pizza from the fridge, but, too tired. Ate two bites and put it back in the fridge.

More tidying is needed, since I'll have guests tomorrow! But I think that will have to wait for tomorrow. Too tired tonight.

Two days left. I still can't figure out how or what to feel.

I went to the parking office first thing this morning. I got there just after eight. There was no line; the office was almost completely empty.

I made a mess of the half-page form; how was I supposed to know I was supposed to truncate the leading zeros on my employee id number? Goofed writing the check, too; Pay to the order of: one hundred... oops.

For some reason I was terribly nervous. Which is just silly; there isn't anything that can really go *wrong* while purchasing a parking permit, is there?

Or maybe "what might go wrong?" has nothing to do with what scares be about driving. Hmm.

Anyway, about five minutes later I stumbled out of the parking permit office with a shiny green parking permit. When I left, I noticed there were six people in line behind me. Guess I got there just in time!

So, now I have a parking permit.

Today's driving lesson went ok. We actually spent the first twenty minutes just talking; I wanted a chance to ask the instructor some questions about driving strategy in a situation where I could give him my undivided attention. It helped me a lot. He said I was asking really good, detailed, insightful questions that "normal people don't ask."

He meant it as a compliment, honest!

And then we drove. On the freeway. It was a little better this time.

We went south about twenty miles, then turned on to a more curvy, twisty freeway with trees all around, which the instructor said was "harder" because two or three people a year die by hitting the trees. (I think he meant in total, not three people die during driving lessons!) He explained that some people wanted to cut down the trees to help save lives. He asked what I thought. I said that the guard rail intended to keep the cars from ramming the trees appeared to be inadequate given the speed of traffic on the freeway. (Dad's a civil engineer. Does it show? I should probably ask Dad's opinion... but then he'll want *me* to drive down and show him the spot.)

We ended up on another freeway, and I recognized where we were, so I got off the freeway to take a little breather. I had thought we could take the back way to a large shopping mall, but forgot that the road had been washed out during the last big rainstorm due to inadequate design and maintenance of a drainage pipe. (Oops, there's the civil engineer thing again.)

So the road was blocked off, and we had to pull into a hotel parking lot instead. I had to park, which was okay. And then I just rested a few minutes. The freeway always seems to be a lot of work. But it seemed a little better this time around.

I also had a chance to explain to the instructor that we were only a few blocks from another location I'd probably want to visit fairly frequently. We hadn't planned it that way, it just sort of worked out. Although I think it will be a few months before that's feasible; I'd have to come home in the dark on the freeway (the event usually ends at 10:30 or so), and I don't think I'll be ready for that right away.

We drove back up to the campus on the freeways. It was, by and large, uneventful. Once we got back, we practiced trying to find a parking place again. We did finally find one spot, and I pulled into it more-or-less successfully.

Then I had to pee, so we drove back to my office, which was very close. The instructor waited in the car.

Since we still had 45 minutes left in the lesson, we decided to drive up a windy coast road, which was a bit steep and scary. But, as I explained to the instructor, "If I was an experienced driver this would be really pretty!"

About fifteen minutes later, the instructor had me pull into a little park near the beach. Now *he* had to pee. There wasn't anyplace to pull the car up to the curb on my side of the road, so he got out to use the public restroom, and told me to drive the car around the parking lot to get to the other side of the street, which I did.

That was the first time I'd driven by myself in almost eighteen years! And, if I'm not mistaken, it was probably only the second time *ever*. Okay, it *was* only around the parking lot, but I have to start somewhere.

The instructor got back into the car, and we drove back down the coast. I took a little detour at one point, but I wasn't lost, just a bit freaked out by a very large intersection with very malfunctioning blinky red lights. That was a little scary in such a big intersection. I took the longer way because it seemed safer, and managed to get us back on campus only about five minutes late.

And that was driving lesson number six.

I noticed as I got out of the car today that I wasn't quite as tired as I was yesterday.

I decided to treat myself to a cheeseburger, as I have after every driving lesson. The cashier called me the dreaded s-word again. I was annoyed, but... I didn't go back to the office and cry. This time, it didn't bother me, strangely enough, because I simply expected it to happen, and because I expected it, it didn't hurt so much. I really should have a talk with that clerk, though. She seems nice enough, just... misinformed. And I haven't said anything to correct her.

Actually, I think I know how to fix it. Maybe I'll try next week.

The rest of the day was fairly uneventful. I finally got my code ready to test. I tested it. It was broken. I fixed it. I tested it again. Something else was broken. Repeat all afternoon. Not terribly exciting, except for one really weird IPv4/IPv6 bug. Found a new API call that fixed that.

I walked home from work as usual. I was halfway home before I realized that I was on my second-to-last walk home. For a while, anyway.

I thought about the day's lesson. I decided that, all things considered, that I'd rather go driving than get shot at. Yesterday, I had been thinking that, at least for me personally, being shot at might be less stressful than driving. Something had changed; I felt better about the lesson. What helped?

Thought number one: the long, quiet talk with the instructor had been very helpful. It's hard to pay attention to him *and* drive at the same time. And I simply have too many fears about driving to try and work through them all while at freeway speeds.

Thought number two: I'm getting better at getting on the freeway. I finally realized that I have to accelerate pretty quickly to get up to speed with everybody else. The car makes an interesting and somewhat scary "Vroooooom!" sort of noise, but I think I'm just overly sensitive or something. Apparently it's normal.

Thought number three: I'm starting to have a little more confidence in my perception. If I want to make a lane change, and I've looked in every possible direction twice, and I *know* it's safe, then I make very relaxed lane changes. But if I see all the right stuff but don't have the confidence to *believe* what I've seen, the lane changes get all wobbly and scary.

Thought number four: some stuff I read online about "cognitive load" makes me understand the learning process a little better. The more I practice, and the more I see the kinds of *things* that are involved in driving, the more my brain reorganizes itself to provide quick unconscious access to the schematic structures involved.

Thought number five: when I first got back to the office today, it was weird how *slow* everything was moving; my brain was still expecting everything at freeway speeds. Hopefully my brain will get better at making that transition to and from driving.

I stopped by a copy place on the way home so I could make extra copies of my "proof of insurance" forms. And I stopped by a grocery store to buy some snacks for when the family comes to visit on Saturday. Oh, and I also bought a little bit of chocolate as a treat for myself, for such a good driving lesson. Okay, a *lot* of chocolate.

When I got home, I found a letter from the DMV in the mail. "Certificate of Title". For my car. My. Car. It has my name on it and everything.

I still don't have the registration. Dad will bring the temporary registration paperwork from the dealer, I guess.

Tonight I discovered that a warm raspberry bubble bath seems to help shed some of the stress of a day with a driving lesson in it. Other flavors might work too.

Last night, I discovered that my iPod also seemed to help me stop stressing about driving and fall asleep. What helped most? Loud, fast rock. Go figure. My brain must need a lot of stimulation to change gears these days.

Tomorrow will be my last driving lesson. Probably even more freeway, maybe some additional windy, scary roads, and maybe some more attempts to get into my parking space at my apartment complex. I'm not really worried about the parking; I can just do that slowly and patiently, and it should be fine. It might take me twenty minutes to park my car every night, but I'm not usually in a hurry anyway.

I wonder... will I get a certificate of some kind when I finish my lessons? I don't need one; my license is perfectly valid as-is. But it might be nice to have.

I've already come to terms with the fact that I won't be the world's safest or most relaxed driver after the lessons. But I'm sure I can get to and from work, and I can probably get out on the freeway and practice by myself. Maybe Sunday mornings; freeways here seem very quiet then.

Then again, I went to church with a friend a couple months ago, and we saw a car that had swerved off the freeway, and then crashed into a Eucalyptus tree and exploded. On a quiet Sunday morning. No survivors. The wreckage was still smoldering when we drove by. The firemen were still hosing it down.

I'm going to try not to dwell on that sort of thing. It doesn't help. I already know this is dangerous. But it's a risk everyone accepts. I'll learn to accept it too, I guess.

Two more days... and then my car will be here. Gulp.

In three more days, my car will be here.

I do NOT like to drive. This I have learned.

I've now been behind the wheel twelve hours in the last couple weeks. I've proved I can do it. I do not like it. Will I ever like it?

Will it ever be less exhausting? After every lesson, my legs tremble as if I'd spent the whole day walking uphill. I tried to take a nap after work today, but was to stressed to sleep. My body aches everywhere.

I'm still not very good at merging onto the freeway or changing lanes. Too much is happening too fast. I haven't learned to take in all of the information in the mirrors in a quick glance. We're going to work on that some more tomorrow.

During an attempted lane change today, I almost made a new friend in a white truck; I was looking in the mirrors trying to figure out how to make a particular lane change, and Mr. White Truck in front of me decided to slow down because there were other cars crowding in front of him, which I didn't see. Oops. Oh well, that's why the training car has brakes on the instructor's side, too.

Other than that little goof, things went ok. We drove down to my doctor's office this morning. I knew right where to go, even on the freeway, but I listened to the instructor instead, and we got off at the wrong exit the first time, and had to get back on the freeway to go back in the other direction. We drove by the hospital, and by the doctor's office. We practiced parking at my apartment complex again, which will probably be a challenge for quite some time. We practiced looking for parking spaces on campus, but only found one we could practice actually parking in.

Tomorrow will be parking permit day. I already put my checkbook in my purse. The parking office opens at 7am.

At least I won't have to drive there.

One of the things I've noticed is that, right now, I don't think I could drive to anyplace "fun", because the mere act of driving there would take all the fun out of anything.

I was just thinking about how I'd soon have to start driving every day, but then I realized: that day was today. I have driving lessons Thursday and Friday. Family will make me drive Saturday and Sunday. Starting Monday, I'll have to drive to work every day. And if I have any energy at all, I'll need to drive on the weekends too.

Ick.

I guess I'll get used to it or something. That's what people tell me, anyway.

After the driving lesson, I stopped in the office to check my email, and then caught the shuttle bus down to the neighborhood where we had practiced driving a couple hours earlier. The shuttle dropped me about a ten minute walk from the doctor's office. When I got there, I spent some time checking out their parking structure and figuring out where I would park.

The doctor visit went ok. They got my name right this time, much to my relief.

I told the doctor about my driving adventures. He was suitably impressed.

I explained to the doctor that other things hadn't been going so well and that we needed to do something differently. We discussed things a bit.

He asked if we should perhaps try something in the PointlessDrug family.

I explained that I had already tried that for a decade with other doctors. Plenty of yucky side effects, but no actual positive results. He asked which ones I had tried. I rattled off a dozen or so names.

He mentioned another one. No, I never tried that one; it came out just as I gave up on that approach. I told him I didn't see much point in trying any of those again.

He pointed out that I had never tried any of them with my new, corrected neurochemistry.

Good point... probably irrelevant, but I couldn't really dispute the general logic of the idea.

So I left his office with four boxes of PointlessDrug number thirteen, and a followup appointment in a month.

He also gave me a lab slip to get some blood work done; the lab now has a satellite office down the hall, which is much more convenient than their other location, one block over and two blocks down. Somehow, getting my blood drawn literally only took a minute. I walked in, she drew my blood, and I was done; it happened so fast that I didn't even get to sit in the waiting room!

The lab work might provide some answers, but probably won't. (This isn't particularly pessimistic; it's just that there's currently no good correlation between the stuff we're measuring and my peculiar neurochemistry. The labs will only provide useful information if the numbers are very, very screwy. More than likely, the numbers will not be that screwy. So, no useful information.)

PointlessDrug number thirteen will most likely have no effect at all. I did my research on it two and a half years ago, and decided against it back then. But the side effect profile will probably be comparatively benign. I took a very similar drug several years ago; no effect.

But I've decided to take it for a month anyway; humoring the doctor may be useful. In a month, I'll be able to say, yes, I've tried PointlessDrug number thirteen as well, and no, it didn't work, so we're going to have to confront the Big Scary Options instead.

Crank up the dosages... change drugs in some more reasonable way that doesn't involve anything in the PointlessDrug family... or some sort of surgery.

If I'd been more assertive, then maybe I could have made things go faster, but that's not really me. Besides, I think being patient will make things go more smoothly in the long run. The doctor knows that I know that higher dosages are not a good thing; I did manage to tell him that the idea made me uncomfortable safety-wise. I didn't tell him that I think we're going to need to go there anyway. Next month.

Now I'm going to go to bed; I'm too tired to do anything else tonight, and I want to get an early start for tomorrow's parking permit adventure.

I thought I was doing better last night; I felt a lot calmer. But then, when I went to bed, I had all kinds of weird, disturbing, confusing dreams that I couldn't remember. In the middle of the night I woke up startled and confused. The clock said it was just after 4am.

When I woke up a few hours later, I read online that we had an earthquake at 4:06am.

Great, now my nightmares are causing *earthquakes*, too! Sigh.

The insurance papers for my car came today. Now not only am I a fully legally insured motorist, but I can prove it too.

And my car arrives in four days.

I have two monitors at work, and I changed the background on one of the monitors to be the picture of my car that Dad sent me. I stared at it a lot today.

At one point I cried a little. Not the happy kind of tears, either.

I don't know what that means.

The doctor's office called today to confirm my appointment for tomorrow. I mentioned that they had gotten my name wrong last time and asked if they could update everything to try and make sure that it doesn't happen again tomorrow. The woman was very nice, and very apologetic, and checked, and said that it was okay.

Why have I been so angry about that for three months? Will it happen again tomorrow? If not, will I stop being angry? If it does happen again, will I be angry forever?

What will the doctor want to do differently? Will he be willing to do something differently? Or will he simply dismiss my complaints? If he ignores me, what will I do instead? Actually, the last is an easy question... if he ignores me, I'll do what I have to do. With his help or without it.

Is it really time to start talking about surgery?

Have I ever mentioned that I *really* don't like doctors?

I have driving lesson number five in the morning. I think we're going to drive down near where the doctor's office is. Then in the afternoon, I'll have to take the shuttle bus down to the same place. Tomorrow will be a long day.

My car will be here in five days. I'm not sure how I feel about it. I'm sure I'll get used to it. I'm sure that it will change my life. I'm sure that, before long, I won't be remember how I ever got by without it.

I'm just not sure how I feel about it.

Less than a month ago, I was contemplating maybe someday possibly thinking about considering dealing with my whole "driving thing" at some unspecified but distant future point in time. Actually doing something about it was well beyond my ability.

And now, my car arrives on Saturday.

Life is just changing too fast, which is really ironic, because the thing that's been upsetting me the most lately is the feeling that nothing will ever change. Something doesn't compute here.

In other news, I need to move; my apartment building is being converted into condos, and it's only a matter of time before I have to move. (I don't know where they will find a sucker to pay a quarter of a million dollars for a one bedroom condo with mold problems due to a complete lack of ventilation in the bathroom, but I'm sure they'll find one. Probably more than one.)

Having a car will let me live wherever I want; I won't be tied to the bus line. But having looked at the prices, there isn't really anyplace that's both cheaper and in a safe neighborhood.

So I'm considering two possibilities.

Possibility #1 is to find a new apartment in my current neighborhood. Moving will be easier now that I have a car. I think I'd probably still hire movers, though.

Possibility #2 is to find some roommates, or a room to rent. The advantage to this is that I could save a huge amount of money, and finish paying all of my medical bills years sooner. The down side is that I was an only child, and the two years that I had roommates in college were the only experience I've had with living with other, non-family people. I got through it ok, but was relieved when it was finally over. Since then, I've had my own place. My own space.

I'm not sure how to even think about giving up having my own space. But on the other hand, a month ago, I struggled with the idea of driving a car.

But how on earth will I find roommates willing to live with an alien?

How will I explain the whole alien thing to them?

How will I find roommates who aren't weird, or dangerous, or crazy?

And, well, I'm not very ordinary on the best of days, and on the bad days I could probably pass for crazy.

The roommate thing would save a huge amount of money, but now might not be the best time. I'm not sure how many changes I can endure all at once!

So maybe a new apartment will be coming up soon...

Except...

Well, to make a long story short, there may be issues. It might be interesting, actually. Apparently, the credit reporting agencies are under the impression that I'm two different people. Passing the credit check might be a challenge. The person with the good credit is my former self. My current self is the only one who has a photo I.D. The paperwork to connect the two hasn't been finished yet. I'll have to go to the courthouse downtown to do that.

I probably should have taken care of that before now. But... now I have a car! Transportation might be easier now. Assuming I'm brave enough to drive downtown; it seems very crowded there. On the other hand, it will take a couple months for everything to go through.

I guess I'll probably have to explain the whole alien thing when I try to rent my new apartment.

Well, I think I'll save that for a couple weeks from now, and deal with driving my car first.

I didn't get around to talking about the other two days' worth of driving lessons yet. It turns out that conquering a twenty-year long driving phobia is mentally and physically exhausting. I was too tired to write about it!

On day three, we started with a trip to my therapist's office, which was quite an adventure, because i thought we were going one way, and the instructor thought we were going a different way. Much confusion ensued. Much unintended on ramp/off ramp practice.

And we still got there in twenty minutes. Not the 90 it takes on the bus.

So we practiced parking at the therapist's office, and at the public library across the street. No problems, although parking isn't as easy as it looks. I'm glad my car is small.

On day four, we repeated the trip to the therapist's office, even more quickly, given that the instructor and I were on the same wavelength regarding the route to our destination. It's easy to get there, even on the freeway. It's easy to get back, too.

We also practiced parking in some more places I will need to park. The parking space at my apartment complex is small and hard to get into. The parking lot at the grocery store is as much of a nightmare for cars as it is for pedestrians.

We even practiced parallel parking! Which is sort of doable at this point.

I have three more lessons scheduled for Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday of this week. They're mostly just for the extra practice.

My car will arrive on Saturday, along with Dad, Stepmom, and Grandma. They will probably expect me to take them for a drive in my new car. We'll see. I'm not sure I want my whole entire family as my passengers all at the same time. I'm not that confident.

I am quite confident that I'm not thrilled with driving. Once I get behind the wheel, I can do it, and it gets a little less painful every time I do it, but, even now, the *thought* of getting behind the wheel still makes me cringe.

I'm still struggling to get my brain to understand the positive side: the huge number of possibilities that driving will open up for me.

I'll be able to go to the grocery store, anytime I want, and just buy as much as I want to. A whole car full of food! I won't have to carefully judge how much weight I can carry, buy the stuff, and then carry it a half mile to my apartment.

Not that I've been entirely unable to manage the grocery thing without a car; I've done amazingly well. The largest things I ever had to get home from the grocery store by myself over the years included a turkey dinner for six people, a file server case with fourteen drive bays, and a thirty pound set of urology textbooks. Oh, and more recently, my sheet-feeding scanner, which came in a gigantic box; I dragged my new gadget the whole half mile home in the rain on a tiny little luggage cart, and at one point the cart tipped and the box rolled off the cart and fell in a puddle. Not a good day. I was wet, cold, and muddy, and my new scanner was in a puddle. I cried. The scanner was okay, it was double-boxed and the inside box didn't get wet. (Oh, and my packages get delivered to a mailbox rental place inside the grocery store; it's a very big grocery store, but not big enough to sell file servers and urology textbooks!)

With a car, I would have just put the box in my car, and driven home in five minutes. My scanner would not have rolled into a puddle.

I'll be able to go to *other* grocery stores! Cheap warehouse club stores. That big Asian grocery store that I've always wanted to try, but haven't even been in yet. Anywhere I want.

I'll be able to buy clothes that need to be dry cleaned, because I won't have to carry the clean clothes a half mile home. When I go shopping, I won't have to ignore everything that says "dry clean only".

I'll be able to drive down to the local home improvement center and buy a big, leafy plant for my office. It will probably die there, since I don't have a window, but that's not the point! Gee, I could even bring the plant home on evenings and weekends!

I'll be able to get a cat. I've been thinking about that a lot. It would be neat to have a pet. But a lot of responsibility. I'm not sure I can handle that right now... but transportation wouldn't be an obstacle anymore.

I'll be able to drive up and visit Dad, Stepmom, and Grandma pretty much any weekend. Although that's probably a four hour drive for me, each way. When I'm ready, I'll try it. Half the trip is on a fairly scary two-lane highway that's known to be one of the more deadly highways in California. (Yuck.)

It's actually hard to readjust my thinking to the notion that I'll be able to just *go* places like everyone else. For instance, I have this pair of shoes that *might* need to be returned to the store where I bought them. On the bus, this would take at least a half day, given that it takes an hour to get there, and an hour to get back, and if I have to spend two hours on the bus I'll certainly spend more than five minutes at the mall! In the car it will be twenty minutes or so each way. I could take them back, and still have most of the day to do other stuff.

A friend wants to meet me for lunch? Hey, where do you want to go? I'll meet you there! You don't have to come get me!

Social occasions will become possible. Not that I have anywhere in particular to go. Actually, that's not entirely true; I have several events coming up that I'm invited to. By bus they are somewhere between difficult and impossible; by car, they would be quite straightforward. But I'd have to drive home in the dark. I haven't actually driven in the dark yet, either! Not since 1987. Hmm, I should probably practice that. Sounds yucky.

Another thing that will be weird for me is that, at least in the short term, I'll need to drive a lot, probably every day. I was so relieved after the last day of driving lessons for last week! The pressure was off, and I needed to take a break. Once my car is here, I'll probably need to talk myself into driving it every single day, until it becomes a habit.

Most people should try to drive less, and get out of their cars and go for a walk once in a while. I'll have to give up my walking, at least in the short term, to force myself to drive more.

I already miss it. I walked to and from work today, which is what I usually do if I'm working on the weekend. I probably won't walk *to* work again for at least a couple months, and maybe never again. The last walk home will probably be Friday; on weekdays, I usually take the bus to work, and walk home. My walk home is a special time for me; I'll be sad to see it disappear and be replaced with a long, painful commute.

I'll probably also gain weight; walking and carrying groceries are my main forms of exercise. I'll have to find something else to do, I guess.

So, what's in store for the week ahead?

Monday and Tuesday are clear. The general plan is to work my little butt off; the rest of the week will be more cluttered, so I need to try to get ahead during the quiet part of the week.

Wednesday through Friday I have two hours of driving lessons each morning.

Wednesday afternoon I go to my doctor. It will probably be a Big Deal sort of visit, not one of the "hi, everything's fine, see you in three months" type of visit. I'm actually glad the car won't be here then; I probably wouldn't force myself to drive to that visit anyway. (I've been known to become physically ill in anticipation of Big Deal visits to the doctor.)

Thursday will probably be the day to try to get my parking permit for work. The campus charges staff people $71 per month for a parking permit, but taken pre tax. I still have to write a check for the first month and a half, to cover it until the payroll deduction starts. I'll do that on Thursday so that, if something gets messed up, I'll still have one more chance on Friday.

Friday night will be an exciting tidy-up-the-apartment night.

Saturday, Dad, Stepmom, and Grandma will arrive with my car. They will make me drive them around. I'm already dreading it.

Sunday they'll leave, probably after a late breakfast or early lunch. Sunday afternoon might be the first opportunity I'll have to go for a drive by myself in my new car. I don't think I've ever driven by myself before! No, wait, yes I have. Once. In 1987.

Next week, Tuesday, will be my first opportunity to drive to my therapist's office for real. She will be impressed; she knows me well, and knows the driving thing has been an obstacle for years, but she doesn't know about the driving lessons or the car yet.

Next week Friday, I think I'm having a little surgery. No, not the Big Deal Doctor Visit sort of surgery; this is a minor little thing that was scheduled for a month ago, but I had to cancel because... I didn't have transportation. I wonder if I'll be able to drive home from that? I think so, it should just be a local anesthetic. Better check on that. Then again, maybe I'll just take the bus for that one, just in case. There's actually a shuttle from our campus, and it goes the same way I would drive, and doesn't make any stops, so it takes the same amount of time, basically. Oh, and my parking permit isn't valid down there, so I'd have to pay for parking anyway, and the shuttle is free.

The following Saturday might be my first opportunity in several weeks to have an entire day off without having to go anywhere or do anything. Except that I'll need to practice driving my car. And I'll probably have stitches in my back from the surgery.

I'm sure that, by then, I'll really need the rest.

Hi, it's me... I can't come to the phone right now, because I'm currently laying in my laundry basket, curled up in the fetal position, screaming uncontrollably. Oh, and I think my elbow is broken, too, but I'm not coherent enough right now to figure out what happened there. Given the current situation, I wouldn't really bother to leave a message, because I'm really not in the mood for a phone call tonight...

beep

The good news is, I'm pretty sure my elbow's not broken. And, no, I didn't change my answering machine message, either.

The bad news is, despite the fact that Dad's visit a couple weeks ago managed to cheer me up, the evidence indicates that We Have A Problem.

The sobbing has been coming and going for the last several months. Since before Christmas.

The uncontrollable anger is a serious problem. I'm still intensely angry at the people at my doctor's office because they called me by the wrong name. Three months ago. And I'm absolutely enraged by the fact that they will do it again on Wednesday.

Of course, I don't know whether they will or not... it isn't really fair to be angry at someone for something they haven't done yet. And if they do so, it will be an honest mistake.

Then again, it's not fair, or even rational to be angry at people for things I imagine them doing, but I do that too. I get almost uncontrollably angry working out little rage-laden scenarios in my head.

I was thinking about all of this, trying to figure out why it all feels so familiar...

Oh, right. I spent a decade this way. 1992-2002.

Actually, I had been having these sorts of problems prior to 1992, but 1992 was the year I finally tried to get help. The results of that "help" led to what I now call "my lost decade".

In 2002 I finally realized that I was going to die and the doctors weren't going to help me, so I decided to experiment on my own and see whether I could do anything that might fix my brain chemistry. I figured that, if nothing else, it was a much more interesting way to die.

Quite to my surprise, I discovered that a very small dose of a cheap, generic drug made all of my symptoms go away very abruptly. I carefully repeated my experiments. Yep, this clearly fixed something that was broken before.

Unfortunately, this neat little fact contradicts what most doctors and psychiatrists believe to be true about neurochemistry. (Why? Because most of them are idiots when it comes to neurochemistry. Trust me.)

I struggled to understand the new, weird feelings coming from my "fixed" brain. What had I fixed, exactly? Oh. This is what normal people feel like. This is what it feels like to be happy.

This simple miracle drug fixed my brain! Well, for a little while, anyway. The effect started to wear off after a few weeks. I cranked the dose up a little bit, and things got better again... for a month or two. I cranked things up a little further, and added another drug. The fix finally seemed to "stick" for several months.

It was time to try to find appropriate medical attention. After half-blank, half-astonished stares from a variety of doctors, I managed to find a specialist who had a clue, and was willing to help me.

For a year, things were... wonderful. Every day was a good one. Sure, some days I cried, but I had lots of good reasons to. There was a lot of grief to work through, and a lot of fear to come to terms with. The future would be a challenge, no question about it... but I had a future! I felt great. Scared, because the notion of having a future was a new thing for me, but... it was great!

It seemed like the first time in my life I had ever been happy. And there wasn't anything in particular that I was happy about. I was just happy.

And... the effect slowly started to wear off. Some days were more difficult. Tears and anger came more quickly. We thought that maybe the dosages were now too high. We discontinued one of the drugs.

I cried twenty hours a day. The world was coming to an end. Even suicide would be a waste of time...

We put back the discontinued drug. The world stopped ending. Oops. Let's not do that again, ok? Bump the doses up just a tiny bit further instead.

During the second year, things were... good. Most days were ok. I cried a lot. Things were not going well. I was on a long road with no end in sight. But things were much, much better than they had ever been during the lost decade.

Now, here we are at the beginning of the third year. Things feel like they're falling apart. I cry all the time because I've completely lost hope that things will ever improve. Nobody likes me and I'll never fit into this society anywhere. I'm an ugly freak and I'll always be an ugly freak. It was absolutely stupid of me to even bother trying to make things better, since it's obviously impossible for me to make any kind of progress in life! And...

... and Dad just bought me a car. And I've just gotten over my twenty year long driving phobia. And I've taken driving lessons and done well. And I'm three mouse clicks from paying off the last of my credit card debt. And when I needed more help, I actually managed to ask for it!

Hmm, feelings: angry and hopeless. Objective analysis of actual current situation: everyone is absolutely amazed and excited at how much progress I've made.

Oh... it's my brain chemistry again, isn't it? Sigh.

And for those of you who are amateur neurochemists, no I haven't been "tinkering" lately. And it's not that time of the month, either.

The problem is, what do I do now?

The first tricky bit will come on Wednesday when I go to see the doctor. I have to somehow stay calm all the way from the waiting room to the exam room, despite the fact that I'll be struggling to contain my semi-rational anger.

Then I have to calmly explain to the doctor that We Have A Problem and that We Have To Do Something Differently.

But what should we do differently?

The easy solution would be to just crank up the dosages on my meds; the catch is that, given that we've been doing that for a couple years now, we're starting to bump up against the safety limits in terms of dosage. Increasing one of the meds gives me a screaming headache and carries a heightened risk of heart attack, while increasing the other one gives me a very high risk of stroke... and I've already had one stroke, although we don't think there's a connection.

The harder solution... well, we think we know where the bogus brain chemistry originates. We can surgically remove the problem at the source. With that done, I can stop several meds, and cut the dosages way back on the others. Massive safety increase.

Assuming it works.

This is the essence of the problem. We have moderately good theoretical reasons to believe that it would work. We have two years' worth of neurochemistry experience with my brain that suggest it would work. And I've heard several anecdotal reports of this sort of thing working for other alien-like people.

But given that, even in a group of very atypical people, my brain chemistry is definitely weirder than most... do we have enough evidence? How can we know for sure?

That's easy. We can't. It won't ever be "this will fix my problem." It will be "if things are bad enough, we can try this."

And if it doesn't work... we're stuck. There's no going back.

What frightens me isn't really the irreversible nature of the surgery. Although it did take me nearly 20 years to have my wisdom teeth removed; I'm just not that keen on having bits of me removed!

What really frightens me is that, to be blunt, we still don't know what's really wrong with my brain chemistry, we don't know exactly why the drugs have worked so far... and we don't really have any proof that the problem, whatever it is, is actually fixable in the long term.

Here are three nightmare scenarios:

Nightmare Scenario #1: All we've managed to do is induce some sort of transient effect that happens to correct my bogus neurochemistry in the short term, but simply cannot work in the long term. There are other neurological problems that work that way; the drugs help... for a little while. After that, they slowly become useless. Maybe my time is just up.

Nightmare Scenario #2: The problem is only "fixed" when my neurochemistry is in some dynamically changing state. For instance: if the level of some particular chemical is falling, then my brain is fine, and once the level reaches a steady state, the problem comes back. If something like that is the case, and we've taken it as low as we can, the only solution might be to let the level go back up to normal, and then ride it back down again. I call this one the "roller coaster" scenario: I can only be happy when the graph is going downhill. If this turned out to be the case, I would essentially be cursed with a weird kind of induced bipolar disorder; if I could endure a year or so of hell, we could get back to the top of the hill, and I could have another year long ride of happiness. Repeat for the rest of my life... which would likely be cut short by one of those long, dark journeys back up the hill. Experience indicates that the rising edge is profoundly unpleasant. Crying for twenty hours a day is bad; could I survive a year of that?

Nightmare Scenario #3: There were parts of my brain that didn't develop on schedule. Changing my brain chemistry may have allowed those pieces to finish growing up, as it were. This would explain, among other things, why I seem to be going through puberty for the first time at age 37. However, once those bits have matured properly, the right thing to do to "lock in" the fix might be to allow my brain chemistry to return to its natural state. If this is the case, surgical intervention might be a disaster; we might not ever be able to get back to the "native" state after that. Then again, the journey back to my "native" brain chemistry would certainly be painful, difficult, and potentially life threatening.

Have the drugs become useless? Or am I trapped on a neurochemical roller coaster? Or am I contemplating doing the exact wrong thing? I don't know. But these are some of the many scenarios I considered two years ago, before we embarked on this peculiar therapy. Then, as now, I was haunted by one question: what if it stops working? What will I do then?

Well, that time is approaching... and now I have to figure out what to do next.

Choosing an appropriate therapy is very difficult, given that the appropriate chapters of the medical textbooks probably won't be written for another twenty or thirty years.

Meanwhile, I'm left trying to make a life and death medical decision, knowing full well that there's no way to know what the "right" thing to do is.

I've never been faced with a decision like this before.

The experiments were so much easier years ago. I knew I could never be happy. I knew I was going to die. There was nothing to lose. And it was all fascinating.

Now? I know what it's like to be happy. And I can probably be that way, for the rest of my life! But only if I make the right decision. And if I make the wrong decision, then I either die, or spend the rest of my life suffering.

No pressure or anything.

My guess is that we will end up doing something like this.

Step 1: Increase dose of potentially stroke-inducing drug. Take even more aspirin as an anticoagulant. Pray a lot. Consider alternate formulations or delivery methods for increased safety.

Step 2: If things seem to get better after two to four weeks, maintain the new, higher dosage, and wait a while (a couple months?) to make sure my brain really is back in a stable state.

Step 3: Begin the long process leading up to surgical intervention.

If the doctor doesn't go for this, I can do the first two steps on my own; it's not any riskier with him or without him. For Step 3, though, I'll need to find a surgeon, and that would be easier with my doctor on my side.

I'll also probably need a psychiatric eval, which should be easy... provided my brain chemistry is in a stable state at the time! My therapist (who isn't a psychiatrist) has been following me for the past two years, and she's familiar with the surgery option and does not oppose it, which is a good sign, I think.

And then we'll have to try and fight with my insurance company. It's probably worth a try, anyway. If not, I'll be stuck with yet another financial burden. But the credit card will be paid off by then, so I'm sure it's doable.

And then: Surgery. Again. What will that be... the third time? Yep... third time, in that general area. And, if all goes well, it won't be the last, either. Maybe one or two more operations after that. If I'm lucky.

But wait... we could skip some of those surgeries, if we move the timetable up on the others. Do we want to do that? If so, the insurance company won't pay a dime, and it will be horribly expensive. But would it be better for me? Safer? Does it even matter? I don't have the money.

Sigh... I'm so tired of all of this. I've been fighting this all my life, although most of that time I didn't even know what I was fighting. And now I'm just... tired. But I still have years and years to go before things will even settle down a little bit. The fight probably won't ever be over. I'm just stuck with that for life.

While discussing the alien thing, someone once said to me, "Well, if you want to be that way, why should anybody mind?"

I guess a lot of people think it works that way.

Um... why would *anybody* want to "be this way"?

I certainly don't want to "be this way".

This is what I have to work with, and I have to do the best I can. There's nothing else I can do.

What I want or don't want has surprisingly little to do with any of this.

The brain chemistry is what it is... all I get to do is help choose what to do about it.

I'm still not sleeping well, despite the exhaustion from my driving lessons. But I'm feeling better tonight than I was last night, so maybe I'll get some sleep tonight. It would be nice to have at least one driving lesson with more than four hours of sleep.

My second lesson started right on time; the instructor called me on my cell phone, and was waiting outside my office. This time, he was waiting in the passenger seat! So, I got in on the driver's side, and chatted with him a bit while I fiddled with the seat and mirrors. I had also brought him a picture of me taken in 1999, back when I was... different. He seemed quite impressed at how much smaller I am now; my alleged former self was about 100 pounds bigger than I am.

I'm still not sure the instructor gets the whole alien thing, and honestly, I'm not sure how much it matters, as long as we're working together smoothly, which we seem to be doing very well. But for some reason I really want him to understand that learning to drive is a small but important part of a much bigger and more complicated picture. But I'm still not sure how important it is for him to know that.

So, off we went! I was driving, for the second time in a week. And this time, we *started* out on a Really Big Road With Lights And Everything!

In just a few minutes, we were down in the neighborhood where I used to live back in the mid-1990's. Back then, I decided to move because the 15 minute walk, followed by the forty-five minute bus ride, got to be a little much to do twice a day, six days a week. In the car? Oh, ten or fifteen minutes, and on surface streets, too!

Then we turned and headed for a more crowded neighborhood near the coast. Everything was fine, despite the fact I had no idea where we were.

And then, the instructor started talking about the freeway.

Eventually he had me pull over in a quiet neighborhood so we could talk. We spent maybe twenty minutes discussing the theory and practice of freeway driving. I already knew about a lot of the stuff; my Dad's a civil engineer and I know they work very hard to make good, safe roads. We talked about how to merge onto the freeway. How to change lanes. Which lane to try to drive in. What to watch for. How and where to pay attention. Lots and lots of stuff.

And before I knew it, we were on the freeway. Literally! Him: "Speed up, speed up, speed up..." Me: Oh, *this* is the freeway?" Him: "Yes, this is the freeway, speed up, speed up..." Sorry, but it didn't *look* like an on ramp! And quite obviously, I need to work a little on paying attention to the signs... but we'll come back to that momentarily.

So... eek! I was on the *freeway*! Going like a million miles an hour. Instructor: "Speed up, speed up..." And there are cars absolutely everywhere.

And it's... okay. Not fun, not by my standards anyway, but I'm doing it, and it's okay.

The first thing that's really obvious is that the freeway is a Very Big Road Indeed. And everything is going very very fast. The cars are going very very fast. The stationary objects are going very very fast. And I'm going very, very fast.

I don't particularly object to speed, and that's not really what was frightening me out on the freeway.

It was the data rate.

I'm still not very good at processing the huge amount of information that I'm seeing as I'm driving. What's ahead of me? What's the next intersection like? Is anything going on at the side of the road that I need to be aware of, like someone who's about to pull out without looking? What's in my rear view mirror? What's in the side mirror? Is someone in my blind spot? Is my speed ok? What's the speed limit here? How fast is everyone else going? Are there lights coming up? Will it be green when I get there? Or red? Does that guy have a stop sign? Does he know he has a stop sign? Is that gardener about to push that lawnmower out in traffic? Hmm, who has the right of way in *this* weird intersection? Whoa, something weird just happened... why did I suddenly feel uncomfortable? Did I make a mistake? Or did someone else?

I still can't take all that stuff in at once. People tell me that it will eventually be automatic and I'll be able to do it all with a glance, but right now I can't. I struggle to look into the rear view mirror and not stare long enough to analyze the scene. If I stare, then I'm not paying enough attention in front of me.

I still feel more than a little apprehensive, because it just feels like there are too many places where I'm basically dropping packets because they're coming in faster than I can process them.

So then we get on the freeway, and the data rate doubles. More packets get dropped per unit of time. There are fewer kinds of packets; no gardeners, for instance. But I still can't sort through the rest of the data fast enough.

To use another analogy, it seems a lot like learning a visual language. I see most (but not all) of the inputs, but because they're all new to me, I have to spend a comparatively long time looking at things, analyzing them, figuring out what they are and what they might do, and then translating them into a different frame of reference so I can decide what action, if any, I need to take.

I have to learn to comprehend this visual language instinctively; there isn't enough time to do the translation step, since all this stuff happens very fast in real time.

In short... this is *hard*.

And... *everybody* does this? Including crazy people, stupid people, irresponsible people... even teenagers?!?! *Everybody* does this?

Sorry, it just seems kind of bizarre to me, in a way. It's amazing that it works as well as it does.

And then there are people who think that reading the paper, talking on their cell phone and putting on their makeup is a perfectly reasonable set of tasks to work on while simultaneously piloting a vehicle going 75 miles an hour in traffic? And I'm going to be sharing the freeway with these people?

Eeeeek!

But, despite all this... I managed to drive down the freeway in a moderately safe manner. Not too bad for my first time. Although, I got to find out first hand how much fun those "blind spots" are! Scary.

So we drove, and drove, and drove some more down the freeway. I wasn't entirely sure where we were heading; we ended up going further south than I've ever gone, despite having lived here for twenty years! I know Mexico must be down there somewhere! But we didn't go quite that far.

After a long drive south, we got off the freeway to figure out where to go next. I mentioned that a little potty break would be nice, but we couldn't find a place to stop, and ended up just getting back on the freeway and driving back north, which was basically uneventful. It was kind of fun after a point, though, because I started to recognize the freeway and the exits, from all the years I've been a passenger. But this time, *I* was driving!

And finally, I found my way back to the campus without any problems.

Once off the freeway, though, I had a different problem for a short time. Instructor: "Slow down, slow down, slow down..."

Once we were back on campus, we decided to try a little more parking practice. I drove to the lot where I'll probably end up parking. The instructor was a little taken aback by how small the parking spaces were, and asked if there were "bigger ones" anywhere nearby. I told him, no, I think they're all about that size on campus, and that it was something I had to learn to deal with.

So we practiced a little. It went... imperfectly. But no disasters. More practice necessary, definitely. And I think, for the first few weeks, I'll try to get to work early, when the lots aren't quite so full.

And then we were done. I drove back to my office, got out, shook the instructor's hand, thanked him, and told him I'd see him again tomorrow.

I had the same adrenaline crash today that I did yesterday; when I first got back to the office, I was a little hyper, but a couple hours after the lesson I was very tired. But less so than yesterday.

Later that afternoon, I discovered I had a bit of sunburn. I had thought to wear sunblock, thankfully, but obviously not quite enough. And I forgot about my arms entirely, and was wearing short sleeves. Oops. At least that's easy to fix.

I still haven't decided whether I think that four two-hour lessons will be enough; I'll talk with the instructor about that tomorrow. I'm very tempted to ask for another eight hours worth next week, just for the extra practice; the lessons aren't that expensive, and I don't really have anyone else I can practice with. And the instructor is very good at pointing out the mistakes that I make. The stuff that I would miss driving by myself.

I talked to Dad last night, and he and stepmom are definitely coming down on the 16th with my car. *My* car!

At some point, I'll write about how big a change this whole car thing will be for me.

For now, that's all the latest, and I'm going to see if I can get some sleep tonight!

The day did not start particularly well.

I couldn't sleep the night before. Too nervous.

Eventually dragged myself out of bed, exhausted, with a headache and stomach cramps. I figured it was just nerves, which was mostly the case. I managed to stumble through my morning routine and drag myself to work. I knew I couldn't do any actual work, so I just paged through the PDF version of the California DMV Driver's Manual a bit.

Then my cell phone rang. The instructor was waiting just outside the building.

Gulp.

Okay, okay, it will be fine, it will be fine, almost everyone can do this without any problems, there's nothing to worry about...

Found the instructor. Introduced myself. Explained that I already have a license but don't drive. He was, of course, curious about this.

Ok, well, my life story in a nutshell: came here in 1986 to go to school. Got the license in 1987 after parental pestering, but never drove after that. 1992, college career disintegrates just as I am ready to graduate. Ten very unpleasant years follow. Then, the discovery: I'm an alien. With the proper diagnosis, we get my brain chemistry readjusted, and now I'm trying to put the shattered fragments of my life back together, and I need to be able to drive to help me do that. Therapist wants me to start driving. Dad wants me to start driving, and last week he bought me a car. I have two weeks to get ready.

I thought he took it pretty well. It didn't seem to be an issue for him. Then again, this guy spends all day riding with high school kids out in traffic, so he must have nerves of steel anyway.

So, first we drove out to a quiet residential neighborhood to try some basics. He said that I was doing just fine with that, and that I was obviously remembering some of my lessons from before, because I was doing things that "new" drivers never do. I'm not consciously remembering anything in particular, I'm just trying to do what seems sensible.

Then we made a wrong turn and ended up on a Really Big Road... which was fine.

We followed Really Big Road down a hill, and back up the other side into the next neighborhood over. It was fine. We found another medium-sized road, which led to someplace we didn't really want to go, so we had to pull into a company's parking lot to turn around. That was fine too, even though it was on another steep hill.

After some more driving around the residential neighborhood, he asked what I wanted to do next.

I had to pee.

Which was not a problem. But where do you go during a driving lesson? Well, of course, you get on a Really Big Road and start looking for a fast food restaurant.

Several miles later, the instructor speculates that we may have "missed it".

A couple miles after that, we found a little strip mall with a burger place, and I pulled into a parking space (another part of the lesson), and ran in to look for the ladies' room.

When I got back to the car, the instructor asked what I wanted to do next. We decided to try some parking practice. That went ok (not great), except for the one spot where I whacked into the curb trying to back out of a spot.

By now we were nearing the end of the allotted time... so I had to drive back to the office. From like a million miles away! (Well, ok, more like... six.)

And it was... ok. Even with the traffic and all the crazy people, it was fine.

And, I was amused that at one point we drove by one of my bus stops; it's one of the two transfers necessary for the 90 minute bus journey to my therapist's office.

In two weeks, I'll probably make that trip in my very own car for the first time ever. Expected travel time: 20 minutes.

So we made it all the way back to my office with no problems. I even knew the way! We pulled up outside the building and thanked my instructor. He said he'd see me again tomorrow, and left for his next appointment.

And that was my first official driving lesson.

The really hard part came once I got back to the office. For the first couple hours, I was completely wired from the adrenaline, and of course I had to tell *everyone* about my adventure. Once that wore off, I had to struggle through the afternoon completely drained of energy.

I've now driven a total of... four hours. This decade. Zero hours in the 1990's. Probably a couple dozen in the 1980's, including an epic journey from Campbell, CA to San Francisco (45 minutes, according to Google).

Tomorrow I think we're going to go on the freeway. A Very Very Big Road!

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!

Date: 01/06/2005
Subject: Goodbye for now

It looks like I won't be making any more journal entries anytime soon, so I thought I'd at least post a quick entry to say goodbye. I'd like to thank everyone for their support. But I'm done now. It's become clear to me that I've gotten as far as I can get in life, and I now just have to live with what little I achieve. Any future entries would just be sad, bleak little commentaries on my inability to cope, and I don't want to write lots of stupid, depressing journal entries, so I'm just going to stop. Oh well. I always knew that dealing with the alien thing was a long shot. It just didn't work out. I'm just not smart enough or brave enough to handle any more. On Monday I'm going to call my therapist and tell her we don't need to meet anymore. Then I'll just sit home every night for the rest of my life. I'm not going to do anything drastic, like killing myself, because what would be the point, really? There are plenty of things wrong with me, I'll probably just drop dead soon anyway. Actually, I'm kind of looking forward to dying. Actually, I want to meet God, see what he's like, and then KICK HIS ASS for doing this to me! How dare he! I never had a chance. NEVER had a CHANCE in life. I was born a freak, and I'll die a freak, and there's just nothing I can do about it. Every single thing I could possibly do to improve my life is simply impossible, I have NO FUTURE, and I'm just not strong enough to take any more...

Sigh. That's the sort of thing I almost posted here last week.

What's really scary is that I really was thinking that way, and it made perfect sense at the time.

The whole incident started when I woke up screaming in the middle of the night last Wednesday. I got up, cried again, cried even harder, and the pain just got worse and worse, and then I was screaming, and then I hit my head or scratched myself or something, and I was bleeding, and frightened, and alone, very alone, and the emotional pain was so intense that I couldn't even cry; I just curled up into a ball and whimpered.

Oddly enough, I made it to work both Thursday and Friday, and they were both productive days, despite the fact that I kept my office door closed so that my periodic sobbing wouldn't freak out the other employees. It turns out I write fairly good code when the world is coming to an end; I tend to be more careful about checking error conditions and things like that.

And then, over the span of about two days, whatever was wrong just... stopped. Things just got better. Absolutely nothing changed about me or my life... but things got better. By Monday night, I was laying on my bed, giggling like crazy at the silliest things. The thought "gee, I don't think moose have prehensile antlers" made me laugh so hard it hurt. (Never mind. It was funny at the time!) Damn my brain chemistry!

Having my brain just sort of wander off for a while is very, very scary, because when it's happening, I can't tell! Despite the fact that I have more than enough intellectual capacity to understand that this has happened before, and that it will probably go away again in a few days, and I should just sit tight and wait for it to subside... I should be able to *know* this, and somehow, I *can't*; the intellectual side is swamped by the intense surge of emotions.

I need to learn to realize when this is happening, and learn how to cope. This is one thing I just *have* to learn. If I don't, I really could die. And that's very, very scary.

I'm thinking about making a sign: Dear Sarah, if life seems hopeless, please sit quietly for a few days. THE HOPELESS FEELING WILL GO AWAY. Love, Yourself! Maybe if I post signs around the apartment, I'll do better next time.

The other kind of scary thing is that "Insane Sarah" was actually right about a lot of things. She had the facts absolutely right. The difference is entirely emotional.

What was she right about? Well, it turns out that there are perfectly sane, reasonable reasons to believe that I don't have a particularly bright future at the moment, and if I don't find a way to change that, I won't have one. "Insane Sarah" thought that there was no practical way to change things. As my brain started to come back online, I began to make a list of the things I need to do to build a future for myself.

Here's the list:

Get one or more college degrees

Have massive amounts of plastic surgery

Change my name

Move to a new town

Find a new job

Build a new life

The list might seem kind of silly; it actually sounds like a joke to me. But this is, in fact, roughly what I need to do. I explained it to Dad on Monday, and he understood my reasoning. I explained it to P, my therapist, on Tuesday, and she also agreed that it was the appropriate sort of long-term plan to have.

P also said that it was entirely appropriate for me to feel I had hit a plateau right now, and that I might spend a chunk of time consolidating my gains, and getting used to everything that has changed so far, and getting ready for the even bigger changes in the future.

Yes, every item on my list seems absolutely terrifying to me. Terrifying, difficult, maybe even impossible. But they are all things that can be worked on. There's absolutely no reason to give up hope.

In fact, I've already started to work on a couple of the items.

The degree thing might happen surprisingly fast. My academic career basically disintegrated about twelve years ago when my life fell apart, which was entirely due to the whole alien thing, but I didn't know it back then. Before things fell apart, I had managed to complete all but one course, and had plenty of extra electives. Yesterday, I sent a couple of emails to ask how to go about starting to put the pieces back together. They immediately did a degree check and verified that all my general education requirements are complete, and I have more than enough units to graduate. Today I had my major checked, and sure enough, there are just one or two courses left, plus a bunch of paperwork. I'm going to go visit the advising office tomorrow; they purged most of my paperwork five years after I dropped out, and they need copies of some of the stuff that I have. They may decide to waive my missing courses since I have so many extra electives. Which would mean... instant graduation, with no course work at all! If I do need courses... well, I still work on campus, and my boss has already told me that a course or two will be "no problem" work-wise.

So as recently as Sunday, I was in an endless pit of despair, and, three days later... wow, things are going amazingly well! Something that for years I thought was impossible is just sort of starting to happen! How? Um, well, I sent a couple of emails. That was all it took.

Also on Tuesday, I bought a big book called "Cities, Ranked and Rated". I need to figure out where I want to live. It needs to be someplace where the median home price is less than half a million dollars. And someplace where they like aliens, or at least aren't actively hostile to them. And... well, I don't know what else, really; I've actually never had to try to choose where to live! I'm a little bit worried about the weather, too; what is this "snow" that I keep reading about?

I don't actually expect to move anytime soon; my guess would be two to five years from now. But I need to start thinking about it fairly seriously, now that I've come to terms with the fact that it's just one of those things that I need to do.

So, the moral of the story? Learn not to listen to that hopeless feeling!

P.S.: Eeek! I just realized I never posted a journal entry about Christmas. Short version: best Christmas in a long time. Maybe best Christmas ever. I love my family.

Life is, in fact, pretty darn good these days. Now if I can just figure out how to explain that to myself during the dark times...