It's Not Over

Well...what can I say? Have I ever really been good at keeping this thing updated?  No.  No, I have not.

This time, though, is for a good reason.  A great reason, even.

We're moving.  We're not JUST moving, we're BUYING A HOUSE!

A request for a transfer was put in, thinking that after Christmas we could start looking for a place to move to.  Someone else had another plan, I guess.

Two weeks later, before even having received the standard letter saying "We've received your transfer request and will put it under advisement" we got the call to report on 26 Sept.  Fast Forward to today, when I sent off a check for a LOT of money as earnest payment on a house.  It's been crazy.  Seriously, I think it's been exactly two weeks since the call came through.

We finally did get the letter saying that they got the transfer request, about a week after all this happened.

Things here are pretty crazy right now and will be probably until about a week after we've moved into the house.

We've been busy, on the days that we can, without that pesky work interfering, we've been taking care of things.  Getting our ducks in a row, you might say.

One of those ducks is taking care of our vehicles.  The family car is good, now.  This time it was the motorcycle.  The speedometer hasn't been working, along with some other stuff that it needs done, so David suggested that he ride behind me so that he didn't speed and get a ticket.  If you know anything about the freeways in Arizona, you know that at any given time someone is going at least 20 over and/or under the speed limit.  It gets pretty crazy.

Before we even got out of the driveway, I was in distress.

In January of this year, I was rear ended at a stop light.  My car was spun around and somehow I hit my head badly enough that I needed 22 stitches in my forehead (I'm the Boy Who Lived!). The first time I got behind the wheel was when the Traverse came home from the dealership, because someone had to drive it home. I was in distress then too.

I am in distress a lot when I'm driving in the car.  Phoenix traffic being what it is, I am ANXIOUS a lot four days a week at the tail end and the beginning of rush hour in Phoenix.

Some days are better than others.  I get to work and I have all but forgotten about what transpired while I was driving.  Coming home is another story.  There were times when I had to go a certain way, and I would get scared about the car behind me driving up as fast as they were.  Most of the time I'm good.  I'm trying more and more to NOT be watching the rear view mirror. I recognize that I'm doing it and I know it's only going to make my driving experience suck so I try really hard to not look into it unless I need to.  When I get home from work, it's easier for me to not push it away, because this is home.

Fridays and Saturdays were especially rough.  I would get home and collapse in tears into David's arms.

It is getting better though.  Until today.  Today really pushed me to the limit.  I have no trust at all that the people behind me will stop in time anymore.  Add to that the fact that my husband is on a motorcycle behind me, and you have a recipe for disaster.

Several times, I considered getting off the freeway altogether.  I stayed on, knowing that getting off wasn't going to help matters at all.  The only thing that would happen would be that David would have two cars and a stubborn hysterical woman on his hands, miles from where he needed to be and from home.

As soon as I parked though, I let it out. I cried.  Part of it was out of fear, part of it was out of frustration for feeling what I was feeling.  I hate myself when I get like that, because I know it's irrational.  OK, it's rational, but it is outside of what I would consider the norm for me pre-accident.  I'm still coming to terms with post accident Shirley.  Because while at the core they are the same, post accident Shirley is different.  She is more like 11 year old Shirley who stayed quiet and cried when someone teased her. Post accident Shirley is a scared Shirley.  BUT she's also a tough Shirley. I'm some kind of mixture of the really old me and what I was becoming already before the accident.  Does that make sense? To me, it does but it sounds crazy.

I don't want what happened in January to rule over me like it does sometimes.  Most of the times, it's almost forgotten about. The only reminder I get outside of those incidents on the freeway that set me on edge are when my scar starts to itch.  Then the wise cracks about the Dark Lord start if anyone else is around.

I did not run away from my duty today.  I didn't speak up when we left, because I hadn't figured out why I was so anxious. I also knew that this is something that needed to get done and had been put off for far too long.  Having to try and explain what the hell was going on seemed like too much.  Even once we got to the shop, when I was crying, I couldn't articulate what was wrong.  But David knows.  He understands about how freaked out I can get.  We're still learning about what triggers it, but we know that it's tied to being in the car.  Which of course can't be helped.

So moving to where we're going where the actual freeway is fairly far away, will help me out. I can't tell you how glad I am that Saturday is my last day of work, so I don't have to make that drive anymore.  Of course I'm sad that I won't get to hang out with my friends at work anymore, but there's no way around it.  This move that been in the works for a while, it just got pushed WAY ahead of our schedule (Or what we were thinking would be the schedule).

This is probably the third time I've written a blog post about this, and I'm still not sure if I'll hit publish, because most of the time I've not the strength or desire to go back and read what I've written to make sure it makes any sense at all.  

The moving of the house is beginning, And things are really about to get crazy around here.  

I can't wait.

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