"Practice"

This is going to be pretty long and rambling because I just cannot seem to streamline my thoughts into a concise little bit, but here it is anyway, for your reading pleasure…

I started out just jotting down things to write about in this blog like I do every time, and by the end, I’d written, “I tried to do it right, but I couldn’t seem to make it work” or some variation on that about six different times.  That pretty well exemplifies how I felt about the drop-off.  Like I tried really hard, and I just did it all wrong.  The more I did wrong, the worse I felt, and then the more wrong things I did.  It was a pretty vicious little cycle. 

It’s no surprise to anyone that I have trouble living like I’m confident in my abilities. One of my biggest frustrations is to be/do/think wrong.  Nothing makes me madder quicker.  So, I’m still trying to swallow not being successful Tuesday; I haven’t gotten there yet.  When Mickey asked me the first time if this was a practice run, I thought it probably would end up that way because I was crazy lost, but I couldn’t really bear the thought that I wouldn’t be able to finish. Because this last run was only “practice” because I wasn’t successful.  It wouldn’t have been practice otherwise.  We can call it practice all we want, but I still screwed up the drop off.

At the end, I could tell by my own manner that I was defeated: I talked softer, I didn’t answer questions with words, but rather nods and sounds, because I was afraid I’d cry if I talked.  I was so done by the end that I couldn’t even figure out how to get into the car.  I just couldn’t put the pieces together.

I was so focused on the fact that I was lost.  I tried to keep moving, but it was like everything I did was wrong.  I just couldn’t put together two intersections at a time.

I just got stuck and couldn’t seem to do the right thing.  I don’t even have the words for it.  It was really a two-hour mess of sounds and textures and fears.  I tried so hard to keep moving.  So, I’d cross the road, not knowing where the heck I was, and then I’d get across, and I’d be screwed because I couldn’t find the sidewalk, or I couldn’t find the other way to cross the street.  Or, I’d think I was still in the road and I wasn’t or I’d really be in the road and think I was on the sidewalk.  I really didn’t do a good job of sorting out information.  I was totally overwhelmed by the options and possibilities.  I tried to fake confidence and just walk but it just didn’t work.  I’ve said all this to say, I tried to be aware of my tendencies to move too little and think too much by reacting more and keeping moving, but in the end, I couldn’t seem to get over my hang-ups.  You know when you’ve just got too much information in your head, and maybe you’re on the phone or the TVs on, and you have to stop some information in order to process the rest?  It was like that.  I couldn’t even think through which intersection might be which because there was too much in my head: too much sensory information, too much fear, and too much self-doubt.

I never did know where I was, really.  I mean, I thought I started by the library, but I didn’t know for sure until y’all confirmed it.  I was just hoping I was right.  By the end, though, I thought I had moved away from that original point.  I kept trying to move, but it was not very organized.  I thought I was at least four blocks away from where I really was.  When we stopped, I was convinced that I was on College at Bronough or Duval.  I knew I had moved a lot, but apparently it was just really non-productive moving.

I remember thinking that I’ve never been this lost in my whole life.  For real.  I’m not one to get lost in life in general, so it’s really a new feeling.  I just don’t get lost, except for a little bit in O&M.  I might go somewhere I’ve never been before or get a bit turned around, but I always know how to get back to where I came from.  I can’t explain it, but it just works that way.  Apparently, Lauren had a really hard getting me lost in the first place.  But, once I hit the streets, I couldn’t sort out the information and got way overwhelmed.  So, having few experiences with “lost-ness,” I was even more uncomfortable.

In retrospect, I think walking in the street shot my confidence.  It scared me, a lot, and I really don’t know why it impacted me so much.  Intellectually, I knew I’d be safe, but on some instinctual level, I couldn’t act on that knowledge, because, well, I was in the road, and it’s pretty well engrained in me to not be in the road.  I was I was pretty sure that I walked up the middle of the road, but I couldn’t tell which way to turn to get out of the traffic.  At first, I thought I was on the sidewalk, so I moved toward the traffic, but now, I think that I was in the traffic already, and the cars were going around me, so I wasn’t getting reliable information.  Still, it’s pretty scary, knowing you’re in the road, and not being able to process through how to get out of it.  It’s kind of a helpless feeling, and I’m no fan of feeling helpless.  Thinking back, I probably just should have committed and moved laterally to get out, but I couldn’t even square off on the traffic to know which way to move.  I don’t know if they were curving around me, or if I was so overwhelmed that I couldn’t localize the traffic.  Looking back, though, I think that because I got scared in the road and couldn’t get out, I took fewer risks later because I REALLY did not want to get back in the road.

So yeah, I’m really disappointed, and I don’t have a great plan about what to do differently to make tomorrow better.  I’ll try harder to move more and think less.  I know I won’t cross the street until I know EXACTLY where I am, and I’ll just say a little prayer and do my best.  That should work, right?