Someone finally broke silence on something that another(s) should have told me. It angered me because it showed so much about how much the other(s) does not care about me and does not care to find out who I truly am; in short, it showed immaturity. The same thing was brought up again more recently. It still bugs me yet I’m trying to not let it distract me from good or more important things. If the other(s) wants to continue holding on to the prejudice and not talk to me about it directly, of which I am willing to hear them, then I have no choice but to remain silent with them about the knowledge. I should also keep in mind that my information may not be entirely correct, though I sense that it is at least mostly true.
So the thing is related to how I rarely drive. The situation was ripe for such a grievance, like a brewing storm. I shall write about it here and then leave it.
It’s easier to say that I just don’t like to drive. I don’t like to drive. I will drive but I don’t like to. Rarely does it happen that I want to drive. Don’t confuse the differences in the statements.
Wrestler was a full-on masculine, athletic jock, protector & provider kind of man. He always drove us; it didn’t matter if I loved to drive or not. He took on himself the role of driver. I had told him that I don’t like to drive. I often had to drive myself, but Wrestler always drove us.
Who was driving became a problem one night. Wrestler was sore or tired one night, so he asked me if I wanted to drive. At this point of the relationship, I noted that Wrestler didn’t like to discuss serious stuff. In my mind, I picked on the word wanted and replied that I didn’t want to drive.
Manipulative on my part, yes. Perhaps I’ll explain more another time.
It sounds like I want to be spoiled. Well, yes but not exactly. I like knowing how much someone cares about me, and if they are willing to drive me when I could use a ride is just one way of observing their care.
Yet the dislike of driving is near the bottom of the list of reasons why I rarely drive. Below are the reasons.
THE NUMBER ONE reason why I don’t drive much is because I do not have a car. I do not own one. I do not have a right to use Mom’s car. I have the privilege of shared use of Mom’s car.
2] Dad drives the junky squealing car for work. I enjoy leaving the good car [Mom’s] for Dad’s use should he want it. He doesn’t go out much, yet there are times when he does go out, or sometimes he might go out if he has the use of the car. Dad cannot use the good car if it is not at home for him to use.
And so, I am more inclined to ask for the car if it is for a ministry thing. I am more likely to stay home if it is for hanging out with friends and have no ride.
Honestly, I could get the car almost every time that I ask for it. I mostly choose not to in consideration of Dad [and that I don’t mind taking the bus].
3] In my darkness, it is less safe for me to drive. It is less safe for myself and for the others on the road at the same time as I am. A darkness can be triggered while I’m driving, as in the sight of a piece of blown tire on the freeway can trigger or worsen the darkness through anxiety and such; it’s not a very comforting thing to not know when a darkness might be triggered.
There have been times that I think I’m strong enough for or think I need to get out of the house, either on my own or to see a friend, yet shaky about driving in my condition. I am so grateful in those times for someone to offer me a ride; I don’t usually let them know that I am sensing weakness and that being the reason that I’ve asked for a ride.
4] I don’t like to drive. I am impatient about traffic [though I’ve gotten calmer about it]. I don’t like looking for parking. I can be unnerved by irresponsible or overly timid drivers.
Also related to things that may trigger or worsen a darkness: I am concerned about debris on the road. Especially with plastic bags floating on the currents in front of me, if I pass a bag, I will check in the rear-view mirror if the bag reappears behind me. It is a potentially unsafe thing if I become too concerned about the bag while I am still driving. My brother had a bag melt to his exhaust pipe and the car stank for awhile after the removal. However, in my mind, I am seeing a bag get stuck and blow up the car or something; irrational, maybe, but it’s in my mind nonetheless.
I have had the windshield crack while I was driving on the freeway. I was following far behind a big rig ‘cuz I don’t like driving close to them. Still, at that distance, the big rig tire popped up something, a big rock or a full can; the object flew directly at the middle of the windshield, cracking a huge one in it. This happened near the beginning of a long drive. Good thing the glass didn’t shatter or that the crack didn’t spread while I was driving [or at least, not so obviously that I could notice]. I was able to reach my destination safely and then called Dad to find out what I should do.
And while I know how to change a flat tire, I am unable to do so, on account of not being strong or leveraged enough to loosen the bolts on my own. I have had two flat tires in my driving history so far, and one of them was at a very inconvenient place on the freeway where there was barely a shoulder. That is another story I shall probably tell at another time.
The grievance included how it seems like I just show up to things, expecting a ride. Well, one, if I was expecting a ride it was because I let someone know beforehand that I would need a ride home and was told to come and a ride would be figured out. It is respectful and I do my best to let someone know or actually procure a ride beforehand. I hardly come across a last minute or unexpected ride-needing.
Also, if no ride can be found, I have it in mind that I will catch the bus. I really enjoy riding the bus most times. Or if I need to meet a ride halfway or something, and there is time and way to do that, I will do that. I am willing to work something out.
So, if people don’t want to give me a ride, I expect them to just say so. I’ve had that happen where someone told me no, and it wasn’t because of inconvenience or inability to give me a ride home; they just didn’t want to. That was okay. I could respect that person for directly telling me the truth.
What bugs me are people who begrudgingly give me a ride and then talk about it behind my back, not having all the facts either. If one doesn’t want to give me a ride ‘cuz they can’t stand me/ don’t want me around/ are upset with me, just say so. I don’t endeavor to be a jerk, I can take a dislike well, I will be as mature as I can be in any given situation, I am not a mind-reader, and we cannot resolve a conflict if either or both of us are being dishonest, or if I don’t even know that something’s being held against me.
*Sigh* So there it is, my side to what little information I’ve come across. Now that I’ve written this, I shall put it on the shelf somewhere, file it in some hidden drawer in the back basement of my mind. I can do no more about it unless it ever comes up openly.