When I was younger I was a spur of the moment kind of girl. My friends and I would just jump in the car and go.
Who wants to go to NYC? Hop in!
Philly? Let’s go!
Busch Gardens in Virginia? I’ll drive!
Who wants to go to Buffalo? What’s in Buffalo? Who knows? Let’s find out! (Turns out not much but hey, now I’ve been to Buffalo!)
Pocono Mountains? Of course!
Some little town outside of Scranton where a friend’s father had a cabin? Many times.
I would drive anywhere.
So would someone please tell me why I now have panic attacks when I have to drive on major highways? What.The.Hell.
Yesterday I had to go to a meeting at one of our other offices. This involved several major highways, a really scary bridge and a wee bit of city driving. It also included clenched hands, boob sweat, shaking, dry mouth and praying of the “Oh please God, let me just get there” variety. Four hours later I had to do it all again. Only now? Rush hour has begun. I seriously thought I would puke all over myself. Wouldn’t that be some twisted icing on my cake?
I’m an even worse passenger. When the Big Guy drives, I flinch, cringe, cover my eyes and slam my imaginary brake pedal. I wouldn’t be surprised if one day he opened the door and booted my fat ass out onto the highway.
When did I turn into this quivering idiot? Sure, a healthy fear of the behemoths on the road today isn’t a bad thing but damn I take it to a whole new level. What is my problem? (Keep in mind we are discussing this one problem only. Any other problems will be addressed…well not now.)
I have to go back again on Wednesday. Not looking forward to it. What can I do to calm myself? Deep breathing doesn’t help and Xanax is not an option. So my bloggy good friends, what can I do? Help a girl out, willya?
And if we ever go anywhere together, I’ll drive and you can hold my hair while I puke.