Tuesday, April 13, 2010

When it rains it pours

Me and Murphy, Murphy's Law that is, are b.f.f.'s. I feel like this has been the worst...week or so pretty much ever recorded. There was that incident with my car and ever since that day life has been pretty...wild. I have been driving Steve, my husband's Jeep because anytime I ever think about driving mine I break out in a cold sweat, my heart starts racing, I feel sick and I want to cry. Just thinking about it now, I'm tearing up.

I'm trying to drive the Ford, going places close to home to prove to myself that there's nothing wrong, that all four tires are securely fastened and that the tire flying off last week just a freakishly odd coincidence.

My mind, however, disagrees. It is convinced that what happened will happen again, probably when I doing 55 miles an hour down Blanding Blvd (which is the main road that runs right through the heart of my county, in certain areas the speed limit is 55, mostly towards Middleburg because no one lives out there except a bunch of cows and the bank. My bank.) and my tire will catapolte off the car, kill some poor on-looker, then the car will flip, cart wheel about six or seven times tossing me and Bree around like a couple of rag dolls before coming to a firey stop in the middle of someone's grazing pasture.

I have to go to the bank, which wouldn't be a problem if Steve's car had enough gas to get there and back. I can drive his car, easy peasy no problem. But like I said, his car doesn't have enough gas, so I was forced to take my own. Bree and I get in (she has a check she has to cash, that's why she was with me) and I sit in the car, trying to take deep, calming breaths, then I go. I don't even get half a mile from the house before I'm jerking across the four lane road, crying, and heading back home, because "the car was shaking like last time."

I know it's all in my head, I know it is...but I'm so damn scared. I know it's irrational, the fear, but I can't seem to stop. I don't know what to do...I'd feel stupid going to the doctor and telling them I can't drive my car because I'm afraid the wheels are going to fall off..not only that but he'd probably look at me like I was nuts too...I know they say you're supposed to "get back on the horse" but really? Really?!?

I hate this overwhelming sense of fear and panic that washes over me whenever I have to drive my car. I hate it and I don't know what to do.

I think I'm going to find a dark corner to cry in.

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