Ghost Rider

The rain was coming down steadily, but fortunately, not too hard. I adjusted the side mirrors and the overhead mirror, the way Brenda's husband Jim reminded me to do years ago when I expressed nervousness at driving my red Buick we got so I could take Nicholas to school. Driving has always been stressful for me, I never really got completely comfortable with it, and the one car I did feel totally relaxed in, our silver 2004 Buick, was totaled in a crash 3 weeks ago. That added to a renewal of anxiety as I now drive our white 1999 Buick, while Michael drives the red Buick which is a 1997 and at times a bit more unpredictable mechanically. The anxiety I struggle with, which keeps me from driving on the freeway, or at night, or in snow and ice, I know impacts my son and that at times makes me sad. The legacy left me by distracted parents, especially my mother, who was a stay at home mother, and had plenty of time to pay attention to her four children's needs, considering we had a full time nanny who was also a house keeper and assistant cook and chauffeur. But her daughters were competition for her addiction for attention, especially from the many lovers she took. She was so good at ignoring our social needs, and it all looked so good, since we were well fed and adequately dressed. My social isolation led to anxiety about driving, which was seen as an embarrassment, so it was swept under the rug, and as a result I did not drive until I was 22. In graduate school, I did not drive at all, since Austin had a great free bus service for the huge population of 50,000 students, and that worked out fine. When I married Michael in 1986, and we graduated in 1987, I did not drive until 1996, when Nicholas started Kindergarten. I have been driving ever since, always because I wanted to be able to take my son to school and to his friends' houses. The recent car collision rattled my nerves, and I still struggle with the jitters on rainy, dark days. Today was one of those days, and on the way back from dropping Nicholas off at the college, it felt like my mother's ghost was riding in the back seat, it was both a creepy and oppressive feeling. My struggles with feeling truly self confident about driving was now leaving an imprint on my son who prefers not to drive for now. With my husband's flexible work schedule and me not working outside of the home, we have manged very well to accommodate his hesitation. But I feel frustrated that my mother's neglect that left me with this permanent struggle is now having an impact on my son. Parents who damage and bruise their children's self esteem are so selfish and heartless, because those bruises one way or another show in the next generation. I talk to my son about my frustration about this, and I fight bravely against my fears, because I drive every day, and have spent anywhere from two to three hours a day driving back and forth for my son for the last 18 years. This summer my son graduates from college and he says he is looking forward to getting a job, while working on his creative writing portfolio, and driving himself. Our love for each other will see us through this, I know, but it sure would have been easier for my son, husband and myself had I had a mother who cared about her oldest daughter's welfare at least as much as the guys she was cheating on my father with. She was so distracted, worrying about her figure, her hair and nails , her expensive shoes and Dior handbags and designer clothes, that she did not notice or care that she was dressing me in cheap clothes and shoes,and never cared about a cute haircut or make up for me. That all made me feel very insecure around the well dressed girls at my high school and since she was never interested in making sure we had friends, my isolation made me shy and as a result scared about driving a car. The car part is with me every day, and I will be 58 next week. My mother said " I love you " all the time. I think she thought if she said it enough she would believe it almost as much as we did. I am no longer angry at her, she died 7 years ago, and I forgave her in a long letter she never answered. But I cannot deny that I have to deal with the sadness her carelessness left me. I always have to deal with the challenge of swallowing the anxiety and the fear, and most heartbreaking of all, the realization that my insecurity about driving now is something my son has to overcome. Everyone thought my mother was a beautiful woman, not least of all her, but the picture she left my son and I with is really quite ugly. It really is like John Lennon said : " You can't hide when you are crippled inside." Eventually you will have to step into the light, even if that light hits you in the afterlife.