Transparent Tuesdays

Issue 151

You guys,

I banged some lady’s car with my car door, and she saw it happen. 

I had purposefully parked in a spot closer to the right side of the space so that if someone parked on my left side, I’d have plenty of room to open the door and put George in his carseat.

I exited the building with George in my arms. We were late for daycare, as we are every Wednesday because George has speech therapy first thing in the morning. As I rushed towards our car, I saw a huge SUV parked next to us, its wheels on the line of the space we shared.

Are you effing kidding me. 

It wasn’t scientifically possible to open my side door and not hit her car. 

I briefly considered backing up my car so I could have room to open the door fully, but what was I supposed to do with George?? 

I stormed forward and shimmied between the two cars, huffing my most exasperated huffs. 

I opened the car door and *placed* it against the asshole’s door BECAUSE I HAD NO OTHER CHOICE and anticipated George’s patented cling-to-my-body-as-soon-as-I-move-towards-the-carseat. But he must have sensed my frantic, pissed off energy, and allowed me to place him in his carseat on the first try. 

As I struggled to buckle him in, not because he was fighting me but because I had no room, I heard a woman’s muffled voice. 

“You’re hitting my car.”

I moved my head around the car door.

“Huh?” 

“You’re hitting my car and you don’t even care.” 

Flustered and unable to believe I was actually being called out in this moment, I felt myself get hot and let out a defensive:

“Sorry!”

Then I tried in vain to move my door off her car while still trying to strap George in. 

I’m not sure if there is a worse combination of feelings than anger and embarrassment at the same time. 

The woman walked away, back into the T-Mobile store we were parked in front of. 

I got into the driver’s seat, bristling, shaking. The woman stared at me from inside the store, her phone held up and pointed at me. 

I sighed. Fuck. This is what people do these days. They video EVERYTHING. 

I waved her out to me. She looked at me with death in her eyes, but slowly walked out. She stood at the front of my car, her phone lowered but still clearly taking video. 

I rolled down my window. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hit your car. I was trying to put my son in his carseat and I couldn’t fit.”

She hesitated and then, “OK.”

“I really am sorry.” 

“It’s OK.”

She lowered her phone and walked back into the store. I pulled away, overcome with that icky sensation all over my body like I wished I was a better person because a better person would have handled that with grace. A better person wouldn’t get angry at a stranger she’s never met. A better person would have just plopped her 2-year-old in the passenger seat and pulled out of the spot so she had room to put him in. A better person would have checked to see if there were any damages to her car (that’s what Sam told me when I got home, because he’s a better person than me). 

Here’s the thing, you guys. When I used to feel a feeling like this I always tried to forget about it and move on. Said something stupid while I was drunk? Don’t think about it! Had an argument with my sister? Pretend it didn’t happen!

But this way of not dealing with things made me sad, anxious, depressed, and lonely. In the documentary Stutz, psychiatrist Phil Stutz explains:

“Every event has something in it that you can learn from. When something goes wrong, anybody can say, ‘Well, it's not that bad. I'll recover from it tomorrow.’

That's not good enough. You have to create a reflex to squeeze the juice out. Squeezing the juice means finding something meaningful. It's trying to find the state of not getting into a lot of negativity but actually training yourself to say, 'What am I gonna do about it now?’"

So what am I gonna do about it now? 

1. Admit fault. Sam’s suggestion to take ownership if I caused any damages never crossed my mind because I felt justified and right and defensive. In the future, I think I’ll ask myself, what did I do wrong in this situation and how can I own up to my mistakes? 

2. Let my guard down. As soon as I allowed myself to get a little bit vulnerable and sincerely apologized, the woman softened. It felt like we saw each other as people instead of enemies, and that felt nice. 

The icky feeling I felt when I drove away is gone, and it’s been replaced by empowerment. 

Stutz ended his point by saying,

“You need to look at all events as having value. If you can do that, then you're in a zone of tremendous opportunity.”

It’s like all my icky moments are actually superpower moments. If I can continue to lean into my messiness and share it with you guys, I’m going to crush life. I can feel it. 

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Bleecker Bombs

A new episode of Bleecker Bombs is out!

I couldn’t get through the first ten minutes without crying. Enjoy!

Listen to the episode on overcast.fm, Spotify, or Apple Podcasts.

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Until next week,

Charlie