Anxiety Suffered Casualties

I have Generalized Anxiety Disorder. In most areas, my anxiety is manageable. In some areas, it can be debilitating. Driving fell in the latter category, and the act accompanied by level of anxiety that had physical manifestations.

Most people are probably thinking: "Grow up, Kechia." Lol. I get that. However, anxiety is pretty common as it affects about 3 million people. For people who have severe anxiety, even tasks that are simple to others can present real challenges.

While I was always apprehensive about driving, I had a car accident in 2012 that worsened the issue.

I was driving to church on a Tuesday. Initially, I didn't want to drive, but I did so anyways. I drove safely, and much to my relief, the church was within sight. I was filled with the most temporary relief. A moment later, as I was turning into the narrow roadway to enter the church property, I had a car accident. The car was flipped upside down and totaled. And, I had the biggest panic attack I've had to date. It may seem trivial, but it was one of the worst days of my life.

Everyone said that particular unpaved road had been problematic. Most people said it was an accident waiting to happen. The city even closed and reconstructed the road in that area. None of that knowledge helped me.

From the date of that accident until about June 2015, I attempted to drive only a handful of times. Each time was characterized by heightened fear and anxiety.

I said all of that to put this milestone into its proper context. On January 30, 2016, I got a car. It was a better car than I planned to get, and it was much needed. (Uber, Lyft, and my transportation costs [without a car payment and insurance] required a ridiculous percentage of income each month.)

In all honesty, up until this point, I had not shared a picture of my car because I still was not driving. I was still allowing the anxiety to hinder me.

Yesterday, I drove from Garland to Greenville by myself. I drove to several places in Greenville. I drove back home today. I drove 100 plus miles, and I did so semi-independently. (My best friend, Errian, was on the phone via the car's Bluetooth. He helped a sister combat the anxiety whenever it reared its ugly head.)

I do not care if this is insignificant to most people. It is not for me. This exacerbated-anxiety-while-driving situation has caused me much embarrassment, frustration, and sadness. It has been the biggest hindrance to autonomy. Everyday that I drive, I reclaim a piece of my freedom back. Yesterday and today, I feel like anxiety suffered casualties. I am tearfully happy about this.

First and foremost, thank you, Jesus!
Special thanks to my Mama, Flanigan, and TeAnn!

Unnecessary Insults: One

“You didn’t come with a manual, LeKechia.”

My dad, in an almost apologetic manner, reminded me that being my father was as difficult as being his daughter. Our relationship was tumultuous, and we were both charting unfamiliar territory. Whenever he said it, I would, for a fleeting moment, feel as sorry for him as I did for myself. That compassion quickly dissipated as I resigned to the fact that he was too proud to be apologetic. 

I am certain that there is something innate within my father that won't allow room for regrets. I am also certain that that something comes from the same brand of pigheadedness I, unfortunately, find myself unable to contain.  In any case, I could not trust my intuition because my perception of him tended to be overly harsh. So the part of me that loved and yearned for a healthy father-daughter relationship would not allow any concrete resolve about his character.  

While he has never verbalized it, I am certain that on some level he resents me as much I resent him. He felt and expressed that he did his best as a father. I did not agree. I saw conceit where he found satisfaction. He had disdain where I placed value. We, on so many issues, on the issues of most importance, were polar opposites.

On many occasions, he would remind me that I was not an “accident;” that he and my mom planned to have me. As he  proudly recalled the events surrounding my conception, I quietly reeled from an overwhelming combination of relief and offense. A sixteen year old and a nineteen year old decided to bring life in this world without the preparation, maturity, and resources required for the undertaking. They actually thought it was a good idea!

I still have not decided if I prefer my existence being the result of foolish mistake or a foolish decision. And, I cannot help but think that the latter is worse. Most insulting to me is the reality that shortly after my conception my dad would engage in an affair with Texas Department of Criminal Justice. He was not present for my birth. He did not sign my birth certificate. He was incarcerated for the first nine years of my life. Despite all of the effort we both feel we gave over the years, we have yet to reach a place of mutual understanding. 

My parents made one of hell of a decision that affected all of our lives and the essence of who I am. I do not think I fully forgave them for being ignorant and young until life taught me that I am not above youth and ignorance. Maybe my father did try his best.

"Keep on living, Baby."

Another one of his mantras accosting me...

Damn.