Tuesday, April 21, 2009

So long, Saturn

I no longer own my Saturn. As of yesterday, it belongs to a dear friend, M, who needs it much more than I. That car meant SO very much to me and, even though, it's only a machine (and a pretty worn-out machine at that) I admit having tears in my eyes as I watched M drive off in it.

I bought the Saturn new, in 1997. I was fresh out of a divorce from a controlling, abusive husband, and stuck driving the car that HE deemed necessary for me to drive. And weeding out of my closet the clothes HE had deemed appropriate. And giving away jewelry that HE had approved for me to wear. (Those of you who know me are shaking your heads, wondering how on earth he ever controlled me to that extent, but he did)

So, even though I had a perfectly fine car ('95 Mitsubishi Galant), I set off in search of a new car, one that was ME. One that didn't remind me every single day of the jerk who had picked it out. I settled on an adorable little green Saturn coupe, with leather seats, sunroof and a CD player. I drove off the lot, popped in a Pearl Jam CD and drove the entire loop around Indianapolis, reveling in a decision that *I* had made on my own, and on having something that entirely belonged to me.

That car, like my beloved Wicka kitty, was a constant through all the turbulent years that were to follow, and the ones of amazing peace (that passes understanding) that would eventually fill my life. It has hauled drunken friends when I was the designated driver. It has carried me home w/someone else at the wheel when I wasn't. It was the perfect car for Broad Ripple clubbing because I could parallel park it anywhere. It has ferried Wicka on countless trips from Indy down to Mom and Dad's for the weekend, and brought me and Max from Indiana to Texas to begin my new life here. It has served as a dump truck when I've had to fold the seats down and toss in bags of dirt at Home Depot. It has been my carriage when we went to formal parties downtown, dressed in our finest. I have wrestled a baby car seat into the back bucket seat, even though I distinctly remember picking the coupe over the sedan because *I* was never going to have kids. A lot has changed in 12 years.

And, even though there is absolutely nothing extraordinary about the car itself (meaning that my ex would never have even considered it because there was no BMW tag on the front or other status attached to it) it has been an extension of me, through all the stages of my independent adult life. And every time I walked outside to get into it, I saw all of that, and how much better my life is now.

But, back to M. She is referred to here by initial only because she is in an even worse situation than I was when I bought this car. She has fled with her two children and is living in fear of her husband, hammering out a divorce settlement with him. He has physically abused her, and her children, and she took the kids and left to protect them. Until yesterday, she was doing that without a car. So, after months of paperwork and hassles (thank you, State of Indiana BMV) she now has a car. It's a 12-year-old, rather banged-up car, but it's a car.

I drove it to deliver it to her yesterday, with Pearl Jam blaring, and remembered exactly, painfully, where I had been when I first drove like that in March of 1997. And reflecting on how far God has brought me, how different my life is, and how many rich, deep blessings came from that horrible period in my life.

M got into the car, and said exactly what I had felt 12 years ago, "I can't believe I am going to have something that is all mine, that HE didn't pick out for me" And so begins another chapter of a woman reclaiming her life and her freedom, and again the Saturn is there. She will be building memories of emerging from this abuse as a stronger, more independent woman who knows her worth, and will not let anyone take that from her again. And I am grateful to have been a part of that.

Sunday, April 12, 2009

Wednesday, April 8, 2009

Perfection

It's my downfall. I have had a dozen things to post here but haven't done it because I haven't had time to make it perfect. To write, and proof, and revise. My house has gotten totally out of control because I wasn't able to keep up when the fibromyalgia was so bad. Then I got better, but couldn't fix the house because I couldn't finish it all at once, so why start? Or I couldn't afford the furniture or organization supplies I need, so why try?

Finally, it hit a breaking point for me Monday. The Princess and I were snapping at each other, and I was totally stressed out from all the piles of junk (from the painting ordeal). I realized that chaos in my house leads to chaos in my head, and that leads to me taking out frustrations on those around me...those I love. So, I declared a "mental health emergency", rounded up friends to entertain The Princess for me while I work (and friends to help me work) and tackled all the books/papers/homeschool paraphernalia lying around.

I dropped The Princess at Emily's yesterday for a playdate, and as I drove home, I heard a song, "Free to be me". The lyrics really struck a chord with me. When it was over, I flipped to the next channel on my presets and it was on there, too, right in the middle. The words I heard when I changed the station were:

I've got a couple dents in my fender,
got a couple rips in my jeans.
Try to put the pieces together,
but perfection is my enemy.
On my own, I'm so clumsy,
but on Your shoulders I can see...
that I'm free to be me.

I needed to hear that. This perfectionism is driving me to be a person I can't stand. It's driving me to push too hard, to give up too soon (or not even start, if I think I can't do it) and I am not enjoying life at all. I honestly do not enjoy life right now. And I should be able to. I have rich blessings, a great family, a beautiful home. I think I'll play this song now and then, to remind met that we all have dents in our fenders and rips in our jeans. But that makes us who we are.

Here's the video if you want to watch: