Still OK

There are things in life, situations, whatever, that I still don’t navigate so well.  I don’t know if that’s the part where I’m “recovering” and have a ways to go, or if it’s simply endemic to being an addict, recovering or not, or if perhaps I’m simply an outright mental defective.  You’d think I could figure it out.  I haven’t.  All of these things have something to do with living life “on life’s terms.”

So, it’s getting cold, right?  It’s getting cold. And I commute 23 miles one-way to my job.  At night it’s another 16 miles bo school, in the dark, and then another 8 miles home.  I commute 55 miles a day on a 49cc, 2-cycle scooter that under the best conditions goes 30 miles per hour.  I’m not even sure my face has thawed since this morning.

I really obviously need a car, so I went car shopping today.  I found a new vehicle that was advertised for nothing down and payments of $199/mo.  Something I can easily afford.  And despite the fact that it will obviously depreciate too much at the beginning, it comes with a great warranty (it’s a brand new Kia, so . . .).

So I’m at the dealership, and I know my credit sucks, and my employer agrees to cosign the loan so that I can get into a vehicle - the condition being that it be a new vehicle.  I fill out the paperwork and I wait.  And I wait.  And I wait.

“NO!” they say.  “You have terrible credit.  Go! Away!”

Actually they were nicer than that - but they did try distract me from the new car and try to railroad me into some repo they had on the lot and wanted 1K down on it which I don’t have.  So we run the paperwork with by boss cosigning.  And the answer comes back that even with my boss cosigning I would require a $2,800 down payment.  My credit is so bad that if you look at me your score goes down.  Other people are buying this car on a signature and from me they want $2800.

And suddenly I feel like the inside of my brain is being scraped out with tiny little razors.  The walls begin to close in on me.  I still haven’t noticed that I haven’t eaten in like 7 hours so I haven’t noticed that I’m really not thinking clearly anymore.  All I notice is that my economic wreckage is so enormous that it’s visible from space.  All I notice is how much cheaper it is to be rich.  The tiny razors make me start thinking about the repo car outside that I could get, but then this panic sets it.

I’ve been at the dealership for 3 hours by this time, mind you.  I’m vaguely aware that I’m hungry.  I do notice that I’m dizzy, but I’m hanging in there.  I’m trying to pretend I’m a grown up and face this perfectly ordinary task of buying a car like a grown up. But I’m not a grown up.  Not really.  Not inside.  I know on the outside I look like an old fool but . . . My grandmother said this would happen.  She said one day I’d wake up and I’d look in the mirror and I’d wonder, “Who the *$%# is that?”

“Seriously.  Who the *$%# do I think I am, anyway, walking into a car dealership and trying to buy a car,” says the voice in my head.  “You’re never going to be able to do that.  *$%#ing loser.”

I turn on my heel and I head out the door as fast as my little poor-credit-risk legs will carry me across the parking lot, and onto my sooter, and out of there.  Away from there.

And 15 minutes later I find myself sitting in a used car dealership; one of those “buy here, pay here, we’ll finance a monkey with a pay-stub” places and I have already filled out a credit app.  Without even thinking I have found myself sitting in front of this little, hairy fat man who’s long, dark hair has expatriated from the top of his head and found political assylum on his arms, and I’m about to sign a contract to pay $9,000 (only 2K less than the brand new car) for a 12 year old Honda that I don’t even like.

“Hold it, hold it, hold it! Stop. Stop! STOP!!” the other, nicer, saner voice says.

And I stop.  And I cool down.  And I ask for an intuitive thought and for guidance.  And the moment I did that I realized that there are a couple of people in my life who could help me navigate this little foray into the big-giant-grownup world, and I realize that I really should eat something before I make another decision of any kind.

And before I’ve hurt myself or others, I push the papers back across the desk and excuse myself.

I’m so afraid of learning to be a grown up.  It is so hard, so exhausting, so confusnig. But I try, I really try.  And I head for home on my scooter, to eat something and to release the tiny razors still at work inside my brain.  And a song starts playing.  It’s only playing in my mind but it’s playing and it’s the theme from Alley McBeal.  “I’ve been down this road, walkin’ the line that’s painted by pride.  And I have made mistakes in my life that I just can’t hide.”

And then I think, if someone can drop a house on my sister, why can’t they roll a car into my driveway?  Which makes me laugh out loud.  And I know I’m still OK.