Eight Days and So Many Cars

Because I just started writing, I have to preface a bunch of stuff for a while. One day I think I will be able to just get on here and write without all the background intel…or not. I have no idea really.

It has been eight days since my first blog post. Even then I wasn’t sure what kind of writing schedule I would put myself on because too much happens in a single day to save it all for a weekly post. It would make each post a novel. Writing everyday is preferable, but then there’s spell check and all the things that make just saying what I want more of a technical process that is a time suck and a buzzkill. So I still don’t know and getting closer to deciding it doesn’t matter at all and doesn’t even make it on my real things to think about list. I just get excited if I can find two minutes to even try.

On Christmas Eve my mom and I were in a car accident. It was 21 days ago and feels like months.

I was three hours away, back at HOME, not in this “vortex of strange” town where I live NOW – to visit my mom, son and aunt. Christmas morning an ambulance took us both from the hotel to the hospital. We waited the night because neither one of us knew what was hurting the most and basically couldn’t even think. We didn’t know what was caused by the slamming of brakes and seat belts and the flying car which turned left right in front of us or the horrible adrenaline which is one of dystonia‘s evil adversaries coursing furiously through our muscles. I had to be hooked up to the good drugs before I could even get x-rays,IMG_3446 it took 6 hours and getting caught making the picture on the left before being released to go back to “my hotel”. I even have “friends” there now – another story, I am back(b)logged with stories, they will just have to come out when they have their turn. My Mom was okay physically, but car accidents never leave someone “okay” really.

The next day I had to get a rental car. It felt and looked like a spaceship inside, blue lit dashboard, voice commanded or touch screen optional controls, too short, too fast, too new and too plain scary.  I didn’t like it one bit, but also didn’t know I’d end up driving it for 16 days. I had to go back “home”…Christmas was over. I have endured every single day since, Insurance World. Eleven agents (so far) and I am treating them like I do doctors and neurologists. Double checking them, getting copies of every thing they say, making folders with folders….I’m trained to cover myself and know exactly what everyone is saying and doing and have it on paper. The Medical part hasn’t even started yet.

I have waited too long to write about any of this, so my whole point of writing about details is lost on this second blog. Now I know and I won’t let it happen again. Makes for bad story telling and the weirdness escapes. The weirdness can’t escape because that’s the whole reason I am even doing this…as so boldly introduced in Blog #1. My apologies but must proceed. It’s not like I will never be in “my hotel” again and describe in detail the man who lives there with his poodle.

Three days after returning to my new home of Nowhere, NC, i found out my car was totaled. I had a special relationship going on with My Car. My whole life I have picked bad cars with one exception. My first car was a 1979 Ford LTD, black, and I could fit 9 other high school friends in it but never could see over the steering wheel. I was popular for my hearse car but SO wasn’t my “style” and traded the gift that I was never grateful for (yeah that’s another story too…I will be writing a LONG time from now on) on a gold Peugeot sedan. I left home at 16 for art school and I had to go in classy. It blew up in the middle of downtown Baltimore 2 years later. I think I got some money for the tires. The Saab turbo blew its radiator next to the Charlotte Colosseum. In between those two, I bought a brand new Mitsubishi Mighty Max pick up, which was the only smart decision I ever made and why the Saab ruined any thoughts anyone had that I had matured in any way. That truck lasted through 4 years of college, Baltimore and Chicago break-ins and one marriage. I gave it to him…The used Volkswagon Beetle was returned for a full refund after a month and two more brand new cars proceeded. The “final-adult-for-real” 8-5 hard-working mother SUV was repo’d after less than a year, when December 26, 2008, dystonia took my last day of working in the real world away.

It took becoming “officially disabled” after three attempts and getting the Social Security Disability Income “lump sum” before I REALLY at 40 years old, spent months finding the perfect car to last the rest of my life and had the approval of everyone in my life. I had it ready to live in. It was made for camping, dogs and sleeping (Amazon even sells air mattresses just to fit THIS car and it did!) wheel chairs, power chairs…This car was my world. I’d moved 9 times in 13 years at this point and I made THIS car the home I would never have to leave or beg for the security deposit. I had everything i needed to survive for days…I’d spent over a year collecting things to make it more than what I even thought “HOME” meant. (I have re-painted, renovated, restored and made every place I ever rented to be a palace for my son and myself, but THIS CAR was a whole different thing.) I had NO idea I would never see it again when it was towed away on Christmas Eve. I had NO idea that when the wrecker guy said “Take what you need out of the car”, that it should’ve been EVERYTHING, not just my dog and a bag of sausage I got an hour before as a present. Priorities are strange when in shock.

I have to fast forward to catch up to now. I don’t want to fast forward but paragraph 2 explains why….

Eight days….

I have no way of writing about the past eight days. Like I said, this second blog is a rip-off for us all. I get it. Eight days have been one very long one day. I have to steal time to write at all. Steal time between endless phone calls, the 11 agents, emails, texts, the people I help support and support me…steal time in between hours of increasing muscle spasms, panic attacks, and life that goes on endlessly seeming to dictate what’s left to be “mine”. In eight days I found out anything with a USB cable was stolen from MY car. The remaining contents of MY car had to be packed and shipped to me before it was taken away to an auction house. MY car arrived 2 days ago in that box. In eight days, I had to mail the title with a notarized limited power of attorney to be paid in full for MY car. That meant still driving scared through town, cringing at every intersection, to the bank and the post office, ALL with their own stories I wanted to tell in full detail of undeniable weirdness. That included me getting in someone elsIMG_3522e’s car by mistake just because it was barely the same color as the rental, locking the keys and my dog in the rental, walking to the fire department to get it unlocked, website after website of used cars and with a deadline of seven days to find and buy my next car to last again, in my mind, the rest of my life.

Another HOME, in Seven.Whole.Days. I have had my “new” car for 3 entire days now. Six hours at the car dealership doesn’t count. The dealership itself is a WHOLE story. Hell in a giant metal box full of small fabric covered boxes with identical looking men inside each gray box. Showroom lights glaring into my worn out eyes suffering with blepharospasm, ( I know…WHAT?!?…I just call it “blepho” – like “bleh-fo”…means dystonia of the eyes. it’s great, I’ll tell you about it sometime. Promise) my neck and shoulders burning in searing hard spasm and I was WAY past my bewitching hour of 4pm, when I make the steady decline into diurnal dystoniaville. I didn’t even test drive the thing. I just wanted to get OUT.

It’s the same make and model but born a year later and green like a Carribean Cruise drink on special…not a chance on this Natural Green Earth that I will accidentally get into someone else’s car again. Night before last I started unpacking the box, it looked like “Car Christmas” in the living room floor, which of course is ironic. I was dreading it, expecting to realize much more had been stolen but didn’t other than what I already knew, the Bluetooth connector I use with my phone to hear the GPS lady through the speakers. I bet the woman who packed my car stuff got a good idea about me…the essential oils, blepharospasm “kit”, lots of pennies and about a hundred elastic pony tail bands and old prescription bags. I finally have all my pens I couldn’t find.  BUT most importantly, I have all the things back that made MY car so special.

That same night I re-ordered the Bluetooth connector and by 2am (insomnia and Amazon are a bad mix, especially with a gift card from Christmas) I decided my NEW car needed a compass NOT on my phone, a magnesium fire starter, a chainsaw link chain, MRE food bars and sterile water packets. I already had a first aid kit, emergency heat blankets and body warmers, Sog tool, multi battery charger, jump kits, an air pump, flashlights, air mattress, a white sheet, sleeping bag, gloves, bungee cords and more..(I failed to mention earlier that growing up with a dad who served and hanging out in Army Navy stores forever rubbed off a bit, in addition to earlier reasons given) and it ALL fits in ONE bag. All of these things cost next to nothing. To be able to easily start a camp fire in seconds for $3.49 is my kind of excitement. No firearms, so my stuff is just enough to make me look paranoid or very prepared.

Today the sun came out for the first time in forever. I felt like I was on another planet, it was blinding and I kept expecting to see another moon or giant globe on the horizon or through the trees. I was finally able to go look at HOW green my new car is…I changed the tag to the one from “the box” and slowly began adding the things back, reorganized, re-wrapped sleeping bag and air mattress, just a few things…I started to notice how clean and ready it was for me. It didn’t care how green it is, it glowed in the sunlight like it had no self-image issues at all. It made me laugh. I was excited to take a picture of it to show my friends in “The Group”, my other “HOME” that isn’t a house. They have heard about ALL this STUFF since the night it began, Christmas Eve, 2014, two days shy of my 6th year anniversary of my ever changing, endless journey, every day survival, hope for better days, onset of generalized dystonia. Here is my car, this sunny day 🙂IMG_3528

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