If you're tired of reading about my various neuroses, for the love of God, turn the page immediately.
If not, read on McDuff.
I don't know who, if any of you, know that I suffer slightly from claustrophobia. I say slightly because I can do so many things comfortably now that used to cause my heart to race.
Riding the metro was still a big no-no for me. Locked up in a speeding car, rushing through the underground, packed elbow to elbow with a pack of strangers was strangely unappealing to me.
And then I visited Boston. I did not come with a list of mental allergies, so Steve from AnUrbanCottage had no reason to fear my fears.
He took me on the El. Two ways, back and forth. And I survived. More that survived. I thought to myself, I could do this.
And yesterday, running around, first into DC to get a haircut, ride over courtesy of the shop driver, a 5 minute bus ride back to Virginia and then, da dum, the question of how I would get across Arlington for My PT appointment.
I had a date in DC for dinner after PT and I vaguely hoped I would be able to hop on the Metro like any ordinary Jane and ride on in. But could I or would I? A taxi seemed more likely and more expensive.
This was my chance to practice. A very long escalator ride brought me to the very depths of Hell. The train I needed was one more floor down. Well I sure as hell wasn't going back up that escalator, so I rode down to the third circle, took a deep breath and a picture, waited 4 minutes and got on the next train.
My friends were amazed. You would have thought I had won an Olympic gold.
And then I rode the train into DC to meet the lawyer/mommy for dinner.
How was the Metro, she asked innocently.
Considering I hadn't ridden it in 20 some years, it was pretty damn good.
How funny to hold on to fears as if they were a security blanket, when maybe we provide our own security and don't need that tattered scrap to sleep with any more.
I was very tired, I was very merry. I had gone back and forth all night on the
Thank you Steve.