Can I ride with you?

Can I ride with you?

I haven’t been able to get in a car where the driver was not my husband, my really good friend, my mom, or my sister, for the past five years.

To some, that might seem like not such a big deal. In reality, perhaps it’s not. For me, though, it is something I struggle with on a regular basis. My main concern is that I would really like to trust others outside of my “safe people” with my anxiety as well. I really want to be okay with a bus driver, a train operator, or a taxi driver driving me around. Most of all I’d like to be okay with some of my new-found friends, that I want to keep around for as long as they let me, driving the vehicle I’m riding in as well.

Twenty minutes. No more than 20 minutes have I managed to tolerate someone other than my husband, my really good friend, my mom, or my sister, operating a motor vehicle that I was in. For the sake of sharing, it’s been about that same amount of time since I last was able to drive alone farther than a quarter of a mile. As you can imagine, this worries everyone around me and scares the living H-E-double-hockey-sticks out of me.

It’s depressing. Disappointing. And so liberating to be able to share this.

Here I am regretting not having said “yes” to an invite I received. An invite to see the blue bonnets on the outskirts of Houston, and I didn’t say “yes” …even though I have been longing to go for several blue bonnet seasons now.

Not only because they are beautiful, but also because I wanted to prove to myself that this would be something I would finally able to do.

So there. Now, please monkey, go and bother someone else today.

No pity. No worries. Just life as an agoraphobic.

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