Monday, November 23, 2009

Tested

Today after yoga class, I picked my parents up at the Senior Center and took them to the doctor, where mom had a check up and blood test to get her medications refilled. There was a young doctor there, an intern. He was tall and good looking in an old-fashioned kind of way, with clear skin and a habit of blushing. He was friendly and had a good manner with mom, speaking directly to her, and she chattered away, batting her lashes and smiling at him, flirting.
After the appointment, I started to back out of the spot--it was a handicapped spot, the closest to our doctor's office, a score, I thought, when we pulled in, but it turned out to be a huge hassle. Well anyway, behind me, there were two cars going up and one coming down, and no room for me to go out to the street, so I had to go all the way up to the top of the parking facility, almost up to the roof, before I could find a spot to back out of and go down. That woman who wanted into my spot didn't have a handicapped sticker, and I am sure she found out she'd have to park elsewhere, after she insisted on making me drive in the wrong direction.
I get very very nervous backing out, especially since that big SUV hit me a few weeks ago and I had to get the car fixed, even though that wasn't my fault. Seeing how nervous and tentative I was, my father went ballistic and started yelling at me, and I yelled back, the worst possible thing when I am driving. Then, to make matters worse, someone collapsed at the exit, and a whole line of cars, including me, had to make a U-turn and go out a different way... more yelling, more ultimatums, nightmare. I have such a long history of terror in the car with my father, years when he was "teaching me to drive," but turned out to be making it impossible for me to get behind the wheel for about 30 years. He would pull my hair, kick me in the leg, scream in my ears, till I got out of the car and walked home.
As soon as we were out of that situation, things reverted to their usual state, and nothing more was said about driving, but I would have liked to have done better with that situation than I did. I'm disappointed in myself.

4 comments:

Lou said...

Robbi.

I am deeply disappointed that your FATHER did not fervently apologize to YOU for his behavior.

Robbi said...

Well Lou, I don't expect something different from him. He is still bipolar, after all, but I DO expect myself to deal differently with it, and not freak out. That's what I've been working on in therapy after all. No, he never apologized, and I just wanted to forget it.

liz said...

Robbi
Robbi,
ugh! awful! parking structures are dramatic enough.
here is a quote I found while tiding up...sort of, today.

"pRomisE ME you'll always REMEMbER:
you'RE bRavER thaN you bEliEvE, and stRoNGER thaN you sEEM and smaRTER than you thiNK."
-chRistoPHER Robin to PooH

just cos your Dad piled on you doesn't mean you should join in and pile on yourself!

Robbi said...

It's just that I shouldn't take the bait. My therapy is supposed to have taught me not to, to look dispassionately at what is happening and understand my reactions, my feelings, but it is hard to do that when you're in the middle of them. If I can understand why I feel anxious, I won't feel anxious anymore, and if I don't feel anxious, I won't drive like that.