Anxiety
Today was enlightening (if you choose to put a positive spin on it. I'm trying).
I went to get a driver's license. Now, I've gone before. And when I surrendered my old license, they gave me an eye test. No big deal, right?
Right.
Unless you're me.
Last time I went with my Dad, I couldn't do the eye test properly. I sustained an injury to my right eye when I was in 7th grade that has since turned in to a cataract. Now, I don't understand the mechanics of this, especially since some doctors have told me that a scar NEVER turns into a cataract, but that's where I am now. They won't operate because it is not advanced enough, so I just live with it. I can see perfectly well with both eyes open, but when my right eye is forced to fend for itself, things are VERY BLURRY.
Well, when I looked into the little eye chart thingy, it separated your eyes. I couldn't see it. I heard the person next to me reading the first line and repeated exactly what he said. Thank God for small towns, because the charts were the same. My cheating was unnoticed. And I cheated. Another thing to heap piles of guilt on myself about. I am so much fun! Wanna come over?
When I went today, I noticed that there were not two machines adjacent to each other, but one. LONELY machine. Not to mention that Dick mentioned I might have to take a written test (he did when he surrenderd his license).
Lordy, lordy I was a BALL of nerves.
So anxious, in fact, that I gazed around looking for the bathroom. That's my first plan of attack - I always have to know where the bathroom is. Why? Because that's how my panic attacks manifested themselves. I had to pee. Even if I didn't. I'd stand in the bathroom for hours at a time, pulling my pants up and down, until I could leave. And that was the horrible part. I never knew when I would be able to leave. Eventually, I just had to know where the bathroom was. And even now, I still do a quick spot check. Just in case.
No bathroom. That I could see. And I didn't want to ask the lady, because then she would see the CRAZY written on my face, so I just stood and worried.
Worried so much, in fact, that my mom started rubbing my shoulders. Because I had knots. I shrugged her off, saying, "That's just the way I am." And if she's rubbing my shoulders in the DMV, then everybody else will SEE THE CRAZY!
And no one can see the crazy. Not unless I let you.
When the lady called me up there? And I had to do the test? It was only a seeing test. Not the written test. And you know what? I could see the letters. Perfectly. But no, I had to worry to Dick and worry to my Mom and worry. I knew later that it bothered me more than I thought it had, because when we went thrift shopping afterwards, I saw a big sign that said, "No Public Bathrooms", and I had to look across the street to see if I could see where there might be a bathroom before the nervous in my stomach and head stopped.
These are not good things.
And I can't really say why I don't want to be medicated. Only that when I was? I was afraid that I would be SO numb that I wouldn't know if I HAD to make an emergency exit to go to the bathroom. And it was worse.
This has got to stop somewhere.
Jane Says: Welcome to our OOL. Notice that there is No "P" in it. Please keep it that way.
I went to get a driver's license. Now, I've gone before. And when I surrendered my old license, they gave me an eye test. No big deal, right?
Right.
Unless you're me.
Last time I went with my Dad, I couldn't do the eye test properly. I sustained an injury to my right eye when I was in 7th grade that has since turned in to a cataract. Now, I don't understand the mechanics of this, especially since some doctors have told me that a scar NEVER turns into a cataract, but that's where I am now. They won't operate because it is not advanced enough, so I just live with it. I can see perfectly well with both eyes open, but when my right eye is forced to fend for itself, things are VERY BLURRY.
Well, when I looked into the little eye chart thingy, it separated your eyes. I couldn't see it. I heard the person next to me reading the first line and repeated exactly what he said. Thank God for small towns, because the charts were the same. My cheating was unnoticed. And I cheated. Another thing to heap piles of guilt on myself about. I am so much fun! Wanna come over?
When I went today, I noticed that there were not two machines adjacent to each other, but one. LONELY machine. Not to mention that Dick mentioned I might have to take a written test (he did when he surrenderd his license).
Lordy, lordy I was a BALL of nerves.
So anxious, in fact, that I gazed around looking for the bathroom. That's my first plan of attack - I always have to know where the bathroom is. Why? Because that's how my panic attacks manifested themselves. I had to pee. Even if I didn't. I'd stand in the bathroom for hours at a time, pulling my pants up and down, until I could leave. And that was the horrible part. I never knew when I would be able to leave. Eventually, I just had to know where the bathroom was. And even now, I still do a quick spot check. Just in case.
No bathroom. That I could see. And I didn't want to ask the lady, because then she would see the CRAZY written on my face, so I just stood and worried.
Worried so much, in fact, that my mom started rubbing my shoulders. Because I had knots. I shrugged her off, saying, "That's just the way I am." And if she's rubbing my shoulders in the DMV, then everybody else will SEE THE CRAZY!
And no one can see the crazy. Not unless I let you.
When the lady called me up there? And I had to do the test? It was only a seeing test. Not the written test. And you know what? I could see the letters. Perfectly. But no, I had to worry to Dick and worry to my Mom and worry. I knew later that it bothered me more than I thought it had, because when we went thrift shopping afterwards, I saw a big sign that said, "No Public Bathrooms", and I had to look across the street to see if I could see where there might be a bathroom before the nervous in my stomach and head stopped.
These are not good things.
And I can't really say why I don't want to be medicated. Only that when I was? I was afraid that I would be SO numb that I wouldn't know if I HAD to make an emergency exit to go to the bathroom. And it was worse.
This has got to stop somewhere.
Jane Says: Welcome to our OOL. Notice that there is No "P" in it. Please keep it that way.
This entry was posted
on Wednesday, July 19, 2006 at 8:38 PM.
You can skip to the end and leave a response.
» Post a Comment