dariaphoebe: (redhead)
I knew we'd get a late start leaving town, and we crossed one state line, then the next, under cover of darkness. I had music cued for the journey, figuring she'd be napping for much of the ride. Instead, we talked, almost til it was time to turn south again on our 4th interstate of the journey. The events of the moment were at the fore of our discussion for a while, and we talked about disruption. I couldn't endorse chaos, I shared. Her view was different. In discussing the squeaky wheel theory, she paused. "You've always been one," she offered.

She posed that part of how I'd gotten by in life was in essence squeaking. I couldn't argue the point.

The next day, as I stood in a line with others, a scattered few folks wandered past with cardboard signs. I knew what the first said even before I saw it. As the third walked past, one of the people behind me commented, showing ignorance of at least one of the cases. It wasn't my conversation, but I turned around and explained the context nonetheless. We were going to be standing there another 45 minutes anyway.

Sometimes even a squeaking wheel isn't enough to get the attention it's aiming for. My issues with anxiety do me no favors dealing with it, but at least in that moment I realized the aim was one that tried to fill a well-founded need.
dariaphoebe: (redhead)
It was cold as I reached the third plateau, and I'd neglected to put on a scarf. I slowed to catch my breath and looked down through the pedals. As there had been the day before, an old towel was frozen to the street, looking a good bit like a silhouette of Abraham Lincoln's head in profile.

At the first plateau, though, I had sucked harder for breath. Much harder. There was a moment of panic, subconsciously driven, of "I can't breathe". The resulting spike of adrenaline made it worse before it got better. It was something that had happened to me many times before. The difference, though, as I reached that third landing, was obvious: I had even by the strictest definition done it to myself, and more importantly, I would live to do it again. In all likelihood, in fact, I would live to do it to myself many more times.


dariaphoebe: (Default)

May 2017

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