I have had a hell of a week. I packed up our belongings while throwing half of them away, loaded the other half in a POD, put 6 months of essentials in a rental SUV (quite a big one), and drove 12 hours to a furnished house I had never seen before (other than the video). It was a bold move. But I’m not going to say it was my boldest. My childhood trauma would have created ample opportunities for much more courageous actions. But it is still quite a big deal in the scheme of things. I had convinced myself that I would get to “the other side” and life would be calmer. I do this often. There is always something on the other side that will be better. My controller does this in an ungrounded way to keep driving me forward when I really need to slow down and rest.
But in this case, it was realistic. The hard part of this “project” was front-loaded. That’s for sure. There was some relief expected on the other side. That was a reasonable expectation. But today, I sat down in my Mini Countryman to take it for a drive. It was the first drive since it came off the auto transport truck and into my driveway. As I sat in the driver’s seat, I said, “Let’s go for a ride together, baby car.” Yes. I call it “baby car”. I love my little car. But as I pressed start, the color ran out of my face. Nothing happened. And the inner war began.
Of course, my controller took immediate action (as they do). I emailed the auto transport company about a claim. I called CarMax and was surprised to learn that my new car is still covered by the 90-day warranty … by two days. They will fix it for free. In the meantime, my system is still at war. Every feeling this move has provoked from my unconscious can be tied to this one press of a button. What are my inner parts saying? Here’s a synopsis:
“I should have kept my mouth shut about how much I loved my Mini. I am not allowed to have nice things.” I learned as a child that it was a bad idea to express my affinity and happiness for anything. I have broken those rules with my little Mini. I have nicknamed it. I have told people how much I love it. I even told the auto transport people how special it was to me so they would treat it well. I asked for trouble and I got it. Now I was being punished for being happy with something. Now I would forever be without what I love because I had to advertise it.
“My mother is making this happen because she will always destroy me no matter how far away I am.” I know this sounds crazy but I have inner parts who believe my mother is actually magical. And those parts believe she is really going to get me for having the gall to make a decision for myself. They are waiting for her punishment and to them, this is it. If she doesn’t do the punishing, someone else will do it. The universe will do it. She is all powerful and can truly make anything happen. Everything is aligned with her wishes. Of course, my adult self knows this is not true, but those inner parts and their fear can be very strong.
“I am trapped now. I cannot escape.” I have just moved to an unfamiliar town in a new state where I know nobody and my car won’t start. This is the epitome of “trapped”. I can’t go anywhere. I don’t really know where to go anyway. This is a time that requires exploration with my own vehicle. It is time to get out and learn about this new place. And now I cannot. I got here and now I have to stay here with no escape. It feels ominous to have no car when living in a place with no real public transportation. Honestly, my inner parts would have probably felt fine to stay at home until there was a situation where I had no choice. That changes everything.
When something like this happens, there is no interest in taking in contradictory information. The facts don’t really matter. There is no consideration for my luck in being under the 90-day warranty. There is no allowance for the possibility that this is a benign occurrence with no malicious intent. There is no ability to take in how incredibly kind all the service agents were on the phone. The idea that I was supported in every way is completely rejected as a plausible perspective. There is no way my inner parts are going to consider that this is anything other than a punishment.
So after a night’s sleep and a very embarrassing call with the incredibly nice people at CarMax support, the answer has been revealed. My inner saboteurs have struck and I am sure it won’t be the last time. There is nothing wrong with my Mini. There never was. My own parts sabotaged me and made me forget how to start it. I had driven an automatic for a week and completely blanked on what my left foot was supposed to do to start my manual car. I literally did this entire thing to myself. Am I embarrassed? Yes. But my self-sabotage presented me with an opportunity to see exactly what was happening in my system. It was a window to my trauma and that is priceless. Who needs enemies when we have self? Or maybe it was the enemies that created this self. Either way, my baby car is fine and nobody is punishing me but me.