There’s a funny story/meme/joke about Pennsylvania winters that circulates from time to time on Facebook. I’m sure it’s also used for other states with winters. It begins with someone saying how lovely the fall is and how they saw their first deer. It continues on about how pretty the first snow is and how gentle the deer seem. Then it mentions that it’s been snowing for days and the deer have destroyed all of the shrubs. By the end they’re cursing the cold and the snow and the deer that hit their car
I’m not there yet, but I was reminded of the story when for the second day in a row at the exact moment I needed to be outside walking to apartment viewings it has rained. I’ve had some pretty bad luck with rain ever since leaving Pennsylvania. It rained several days during my camping expeditions and it’s rained at the precise times when I was in between hotels and trying to kill time in a city (Austin, Dallas, etc.). And most recently, it’s been raining as I’ve been trying to find apartments. As if to thumb her nose at me, mother nature brought the sun out while I was killing time in a coffee shop and brought the clouds and rains as I walked to my next showing. Pain in the ass that it is, I’ve decided I’m not going to let it dampen my spirits (see what I did there).
Because of the rain, I was forced to curtail my habit of walking everywhere and take the bus to my first appointment. I doubted myself every step of the way. Was I at the right stop? Did I do the app/scan/barcode thing correctly? Do I pull this yellow cord to signal that I want to stop? How much time before my stop do I signal? Do I have to scan again when I exit – I could have sworn I saw someone do that the other day? I tried to pay attention to how other people (locals) did these things, but never saw anyone pull the cord, and I’m not sure I saw anyone use the phone app. Next time.
By the time I was done with the my last showing, I was, like yesterday, wet. The rain had let up and I soggy-foot hoofed it back to my hotel. Once there, I shed my wet clothing, took a nap, got a hot shower, went out to dinner, and then tackled the second thing I’ve been putting off: laundry. There were no issues there. The place was clean, nobody was in it, and everything was pretty self-explanatory. It cost close to $8 to do a full load – which kinda sucks, but I was running out of shirts to wear.
As I sat at the laundromat, and at the coffee shop earlier in the day, I wrote a few poems, read a few poems, and gave some thought to this hesitancy I have over driving, taking the bus, and doing new things. I just spent over 50 days driving across the country visiting cities and towns and doing things way outside of my comfort zone, yet, when given the chance here in San Francisco, I feel I’ve shrunk right back into my comfort zone.
As best as I can tell, my hesitations (especially my aversion to driving around the city) stem from this combination of fear of not knowing what I’m doing / where I’m going, a serious dislike of feeling rushed, and my discomfort over feeling like I’m in someone else’s way. GPS certainly helps, but quite a few times during my road trip, my GPS was completely turned around and couldn’t adjust quickly enough in real time. In those moments, there was almost always someone behind me waiting for me to figure out what I was doing. Also, just after those moments and a slew of curse words, I’d talk to myself as though I were my GPS, “I’m sorry Matt, I’m as lost as you are. I really don’t know what I’m doing. Good luck – you’re on your own here.” And it’s not just the directions/navigation aspect of driving that makes me hesitant to get in the car, but the hassle of figuring out where to park and how long I’m allowed to park, etc. becomes a barrier. At some point, it’s just easier to stay home (or walk). In sections of Philly (the ones I knew), I was fine… but I was always hesitant to go to sections I didn’t know. I suspect that were I to practice these things more often, they would feel more natural to me… but that doesn’t get at what the root cause might be.
Not too long ago, I listened to an interview with the poet Andrea Gibson (they/them) – a poet whose book, You Better Be Lightning, I’m hooked on and savoring. Andrea told a story in which they and their partner were on hike in a park and Andrea was feeling sick (they had been doing chemo). Andrea insisted that the two of them cut the hike short and return home, but later realized that it wasn’t the sickness that made them want to turn back. Andrea was afraid they’d fall down or faint and look foolish sprawled out and helpless in the middle of the park.
That story stuck with me because I think being afraid of looking foolish is where some of my hesitations come from. I don’t like it when other people can see that I don’t know what I’m doing – I feel as though I’m being judged (to which a therapist might suggest that’s because I’m judgemental of other people, etc.). In middle school, I once had a slight melt down at a roller skating party when my friends were pressuring me to come out and skate. I did and didn’t want to join them. I was mostly fine sitting and watching – but the deeper truth was, everyone else knew how to skate and I didn’t (I’m not sure I had ever gone skating before). I was afraid of looking foolish in front of my friends. I was a fraid of being made fun of or causing a scene. I’ve felt similar anxiety/frustration on the first tee of golf courses. When there’s a line of golfers waiting to go, I get worried about the errant shot I’m bound to hit and how long it will take me to get to the green and putt out.
What I’ve been trying to figure out, is whether or not there is some core memory that’s given me this hang-up or set of hang-ups. I hate being rushed. I hate being in the way. I hate looking like (or people assuming) I don’t know what I’m doing. This is why people who tailgate me on the highway piss me off more than just about anything else. I’ll move over if I’m given the chance, but don’t rush me and don’t make me feel like I’m in the way – and if you pass on the right while giving me a dirty look – you’re assuming I don’t know that I’m supposed to get over (and you didn’t give me time to get out of your way). It’s a whole thing. I don’t like impatient people and I try to catch myself whenever I’m guilty of being impatient with others. Yes, I feel it’s a virtue. And maybe there isn’t one core memory or event, but instead there’s a series of “lessons” I’ve learned over a lifetime? Get out of people’s way and don’t look like an idiot.
I know that these feelings sometimes inhibit me from doing things. I try not to let them rule my life and I actively take steps to counter them (50-some days on the road with countless first-time experiences). I suppose where I get concerned is that we have a tendency to get more conservative as we age. We tend to take fewer risks and tend to shrink our comfort zones. I don’t want those things to happen – at least not yet. Sometimes, especially now, I wish I had gotten better at, or more comfortable with, city living when I did it briefly in Philly. I think it would have made this learning curve a little softer and easier. And sometimes, I’d just like a gentle guide or teacher who can show me what to do when and how to navigate my way around (the city and life).