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jianantonicIf this is the biggest complaint in my marriage, I've got a pretty great relationship, but I need to vent about it for a moment.
McKenzie loves to drive, and will often spend his free time just driving for the sake of driving. I don't love that this is his chosen hobby, but it's not that big a deal. Our car gets great mileage and it makes him happy, so I'm happy he is enjoying himself. But he never fucking fills the gas tank after these drives. He would say it's because he doesn't need to -- there's still "plenty" of gas in it. We have different definitions of "plenty." His definition is "enough for me to get to and from work without refilling the tank," which is fair and makes total sense. Mine, though, is "enough that looking at the gas gauge won't make me panic," and that quantity is much higher than Z seems to realize.
With my therapy and medication, I've greatly reduced the number of things that make me anxious. In fact, there are very, very few of these things left at all. It's awesome, having spent the first 27 years of my life either in or on the verge of a panic attack. I can trace my fuel level anxiety to two sources. First, when I was in driver's ed, I was taught that it's bad for your car to let the gas tank dip below 1/4 full. Now, I have never bothered to do any research to back up this claim, and I've been told by knowledgeable sources that it's not really true. My understanding is that this may have been the case on older cars, but now it's not much of a concern. My car is a 2012. Not considered "older." But it's hard to shake these little things that you learn at impressionable stages, you know? And what's the harm in refilling the tank before it drops that far? Absolutely none. So the way I see it, it just makes sense to always keep it above a quarter tank, 'cause there's no harm in doing so and there's even some miniscule chance that it's better for your car. The other issue is that I have been in situations where a car has run out of fuel before, and these situations suck ass. So, you know, do your best to avoid that shit.
I also really, really hate being late, or off schedule at all, and I time my daily activities very carefully to avoid any kind of stress. I always build extra time into my schedule to account for things like traffic or random unexpected circumstances, and I realize that because I always leave room for this stuff, I should be perfectly okay with using that time when necessary...but no. I still stress out in traffic jams even when I know I'm going to be on time anyway, and anything that forces me to use that built-in time just creates stress. I suppose I could build in even more time, but I honestly don't think that would alleviate the stress at all. It's just one of those contradictions in my life that I am intellectually aware of but emotionally unable to handle with grace. So even though I have enough time built into my morning commute to stop and get gas, having to do so stresses me out. If I know I need gas, I'll leave a few minutes earlier and all is fine, but usually what happens is that I get in the car at my usual time in the morning and then see that the tank is low and it throws me for a loop. Enough of a loop to write a dissertation in my blog when I know I could just go get some fucking gas.
Let me be perfectly clear that I am aware that this is a stupid quirk.
But here's the thing. McKenzie is aware of this quirk. I constantly ask him to please fill the tank after he goes for a drive, and he constantly tries to educate me that when the car says it has a range of 100 miles left, that's PLENTY of gas to get me to and from work and anything else I do all week. The disconnect is that I do know that, but I still would prefer a full tank, especially when I've just filled it up myself the day before. Does this merit a fight, or even anger? No. It really doesn't. I wonder if the amount that this bothers me, though, is a sign that I need to up my meds again, because I'm letting a silly thing drive me nuts. I'd prefer to think, though, that this is just a quirk that is part of me and while it's silly and illogical, it would be best for everyone if McKenzie would do what he can to alleviate this particular stress in my life, rather than try to educate me that I need not stress over it. I mean, I do know that. And I know it's ridiculous that it bothers me as much as it does. But the stress is still the dominant brain function in this scenario.
So here's what's going to happen today. Even though my car says it has a range of 100 miles left on it, it's down to the last three bars on the fuel gauge, and that will bother me every time I look at my dashboard, so I'm going to go fill up the tank when I run to the post office for work in a little bit. This is a totally easy thing for me to do and I don't mind doing it, so really what's the problem? I wish I knew. But if this is the worst manifestation of my mental illness, and the worst conflict in my marriage, then I think we're doing pretty well. Still, for the two minutes I spend at the gas station this morning, I'm going to be grumpy and annoyed with my husband. And then it will pass and I will go on with my day and will forget about this completely for the next 300 miles or so.
Ironic how I can write a thousand words (from my desk at work) about how much it bothers me to take two minutes out of my scheduled day. I know, I know. I'm an asshole.
McKenzie loves to drive, and will often spend his free time just driving for the sake of driving. I don't love that this is his chosen hobby, but it's not that big a deal. Our car gets great mileage and it makes him happy, so I'm happy he is enjoying himself. But he never fucking fills the gas tank after these drives. He would say it's because he doesn't need to -- there's still "plenty" of gas in it. We have different definitions of "plenty." His definition is "enough for me to get to and from work without refilling the tank," which is fair and makes total sense. Mine, though, is "enough that looking at the gas gauge won't make me panic," and that quantity is much higher than Z seems to realize.
With my therapy and medication, I've greatly reduced the number of things that make me anxious. In fact, there are very, very few of these things left at all. It's awesome, having spent the first 27 years of my life either in or on the verge of a panic attack. I can trace my fuel level anxiety to two sources. First, when I was in driver's ed, I was taught that it's bad for your car to let the gas tank dip below 1/4 full. Now, I have never bothered to do any research to back up this claim, and I've been told by knowledgeable sources that it's not really true. My understanding is that this may have been the case on older cars, but now it's not much of a concern. My car is a 2012. Not considered "older." But it's hard to shake these little things that you learn at impressionable stages, you know? And what's the harm in refilling the tank before it drops that far? Absolutely none. So the way I see it, it just makes sense to always keep it above a quarter tank, 'cause there's no harm in doing so and there's even some miniscule chance that it's better for your car. The other issue is that I have been in situations where a car has run out of fuel before, and these situations suck ass. So, you know, do your best to avoid that shit.
I also really, really hate being late, or off schedule at all, and I time my daily activities very carefully to avoid any kind of stress. I always build extra time into my schedule to account for things like traffic or random unexpected circumstances, and I realize that because I always leave room for this stuff, I should be perfectly okay with using that time when necessary...but no. I still stress out in traffic jams even when I know I'm going to be on time anyway, and anything that forces me to use that built-in time just creates stress. I suppose I could build in even more time, but I honestly don't think that would alleviate the stress at all. It's just one of those contradictions in my life that I am intellectually aware of but emotionally unable to handle with grace. So even though I have enough time built into my morning commute to stop and get gas, having to do so stresses me out. If I know I need gas, I'll leave a few minutes earlier and all is fine, but usually what happens is that I get in the car at my usual time in the morning and then see that the tank is low and it throws me for a loop. Enough of a loop to write a dissertation in my blog when I know I could just go get some fucking gas.
Let me be perfectly clear that I am aware that this is a stupid quirk.
But here's the thing. McKenzie is aware of this quirk. I constantly ask him to please fill the tank after he goes for a drive, and he constantly tries to educate me that when the car says it has a range of 100 miles left, that's PLENTY of gas to get me to and from work and anything else I do all week. The disconnect is that I do know that, but I still would prefer a full tank, especially when I've just filled it up myself the day before. Does this merit a fight, or even anger? No. It really doesn't. I wonder if the amount that this bothers me, though, is a sign that I need to up my meds again, because I'm letting a silly thing drive me nuts. I'd prefer to think, though, that this is just a quirk that is part of me and while it's silly and illogical, it would be best for everyone if McKenzie would do what he can to alleviate this particular stress in my life, rather than try to educate me that I need not stress over it. I mean, I do know that. And I know it's ridiculous that it bothers me as much as it does. But the stress is still the dominant brain function in this scenario.
So here's what's going to happen today. Even though my car says it has a range of 100 miles left on it, it's down to the last three bars on the fuel gauge, and that will bother me every time I look at my dashboard, so I'm going to go fill up the tank when I run to the post office for work in a little bit. This is a totally easy thing for me to do and I don't mind doing it, so really what's the problem? I wish I knew. But if this is the worst manifestation of my mental illness, and the worst conflict in my marriage, then I think we're doing pretty well. Still, for the two minutes I spend at the gas station this morning, I'm going to be grumpy and annoyed with my husband. And then it will pass and I will go on with my day and will forget about this completely for the next 300 miles or so.
Ironic how I can write a thousand words (from my desk at work) about how much it bothers me to take two minutes out of my scheduled day. I know, I know. I'm an asshole.
