Not the Plan

I had it all planned out. I would leave my parents place at 4, run an errand, fill up my tank and then by 4:30 I would be on the road to my friend's house. Everything would go smoothly, I would arrive there at 5:30 and we'd go to church at 6:30. See? All planned!

Of course, I had forgotten to factor in the big game happening across the road. The area was parked up for a two block radius. By the time I had found a park, walked to the shops, grabbed what I wanted and walked back it was already 4:30. I chewed on my lip, decided not to stress and just drive to the petrol station.

Two minutes later saw my car refusing to start at a roundabout. With my nose jutting out slightly. I was completely out of gas.

I started freaking out. I couldn't stay where I was. I couldn't move. I needed to ring my parents. This was not part of the plan.

Questions swirled: should I stay where I was and hope for the best? Should I get out and push my own car? Should I get out and ask the guy in the car behind me for help? What was I going to do?

I started breathing too fast. My hands were shaking. I was terrified.

Just then, I saw that the guy behind me had gotten out of his car and was walking towards me. I took a deep breath, composed myself, and rolled down my window. I didn't know what to expect.

"Put her in neutral and I'll push you around the corner." He wasn't yelling at me! I breathed a sigh of relief, then thanked him.

He pushed me around the corner and I coasted forward, stopping across a driveway. Well, at least I was no longer sitting with my nose sticking into potential traffic at a roundabout.

I pulled out my phone. I called Mum. No answer. Freak out resumed.

The guy who had helped me pulled up and came over again. I rolled my window down again and explained that I was out of petrol. He asked if I needed any help and I told him I was going to ring my parents. He looked relieved then offered to push me again so that I wasn't over the driveway.

I called Dad. Immediately, he came out with some petrol to put into my tank. For a brief moment, it looked like it was working. Then the car stopped again and wouldn't start. Dad hopped back in his car and drove to the nearest petrol station to get more fuel.

This time, we poured 5 litres in. The engine was turning over, but kept sputtering to a stop before any real success was achieved.

Dad popped the hood. Nothing. We conferred briefly and he jumped back in his car to go get some rope.

At this point, it was 5:30. I was starting to realise that I wasn't going to make it to my friends house on time! So yeah. This is not the way I planned it. At all.

And I couldn't help but see the similarities between this incident and my life.

I let myself go too long without taking proper care of myself. "Just a little while longer. I can do this! It's sorted". I knew I had emotional scars and suspected that I had depression, but I was coping. At least, I was getting stuff done.

Then came the anxiety attacks. The signs that I really had gone too far and my body was going to force me to stop. So I did. Sort of. I got someone to push me for a little while and mistook that for "all better!".

I got stuck again. I got some more help. I tried to start up again. It looked like it was going to work. Then came the start of uni and the realisation that I could not handle it just then. That was not part of the plan.

But that is where I ended up. Sitting in my car, re-evaluating my plans and not knowing when, or even if, I'd be able to carry on with my original plans. And I'm terrified.