Anxiety and Driving in the Snowpocalypse

I have been planning on writing a post in which I tell you how I've been struggling a bit lately with anxiety and life changes and am looking for a therapist.

But then the snow happened and so clearly I need to tell you about that first.

BUT! First, a little about the anxiety. Years ago, before I moved to Portland and before I went through therapy the first time, before I cut off contact with my mother, and before I really started finding my own happiness, I used to suffer from what I lovingly call Random Anxiety.

Basically, it was anxiety that would come on with seemingly no trigger or with an illogical trigger, meaning something small that wouldn't make a regular person bat an eyelash would give raise my heart rate, get me all flushed and itchy, and short of breath and often in tears. I've never had a full on panic attack, thank goodness, because those are actually fairly scary and physically debilitating.

I've never had social anxiety, though being around lots of people for extended periods can exhaust me; my issue was more like high stress but I'd feel it even when I wasn't under that much stress.

I never really told anyone about this, except for my therapist (and my doctor before that), because I was so embarrassed to need medication when my mother was (and is) a prescription drug addict. Not that anyone should be embarrassed of needing medication! You do what you need to to survive this life, I say. But I was scared of taking meds, because of that, and so didn't want anyone to know.

The other reason I kept mum was because I worked very hard to display an air of confidence and control and I just didn't want anyone knowing just what a mess I actually felt I was.

Anyway, glossing over the next few years, I went to therapy, figured out my anxiety was triggered by all sorts of emotions I had buried as an abused child, and once I let myself feel, I was able to wean off my medication and learn how to handle stressors and have felt pretty great for years now.

Then the last few months, with some major changes (hello, moving in with my boyfriend!) and stress, and I've found myself having Random Anxiety once again (along with some other issues, which I'll tell you about another day). But, this time around, I knew the signs and what was happening and I've been good at doing the things I learned in therapy to calm myself down. And I've been looking for a new therapist here in Portland to help me work through these issues and get to a healthy place again.

As of yet, I haven't found a therapist.

And then two days ago, Thursday, the Snow with a capital S hit Portland. Snow hardly ever comes to Portland and certainly never this thick. Between the city never being prepared for snow and nobody (including me, the California girl), knowing how to drive in the snow, the whole city shuts down.

At 1pm, the powers that be decided to close the office, but I had an errand to run with a coworker that we couldn't get out of, so we headed to do that first. Everyone was trying to get out of the city (where I was) and the streets were packed.

Took this about 1:30 as I'd sat through 7 or so cycles at this stop light

We spent 2 hours driving 2 miles or so and then I could finally try to make my way home, which was 6 miles away. I was already fairly cabin fevery in my car, hadn't eaten lunch, though I did have some veggies and a nut bar in my purse and a bottle of water (which I was scared to drink because I didn't want to have to pee).

I finally made my way down to what I thought would be the best and easiest route home and came across a little fender bender blocking the only way. We were rerouted the opposite way and then U turned around back going south (the right way), but this placed me several blocks back AND behind some train tracks and of course there was a train and of course the train was going slow because of the snow traffic. I sat in that spot, not moving at all for about a half an hour.

Just sitting

Then I crept, block by block, for several hours, not making much progress, and trying not to lose my mind. I nibbled on my veggies, charged my phone, kept checking facebook, and called my boyfriend a lot to try to stay calm. He also kept offering to come get me and I was like, "Um, unless you have a helicopter, no. Your car would then just get stuck here and then we'd both be stuck in snow traffic."

There was just nowhere else to go. I was stuck there. Occasionally I'd get out and scrape the ice off my windshield wipers and run back in my car soaking wet, so at least there was that.

My anxiety was obviously rising and I'd waver between feeling okay or sardonic about the whole situation and feeling like it was the end of the world and I was going to have to spend the night in my car and freeze to death and goodbye cruel world.

Creeping along

At some point, I had the wherewithal to call my dad, who is a retired firefighter, and he pretty calmly told me I'd be fine and to keep checking in, and gave me a few practical tips. Thanks, dad.

Though, as dramatic as I am and as anxious and trapped as I was feeling, really the worst hadn't hit yet.

At about 5:30pm, I was able to get off the main road and get onto a side road I knew that I could cut over to my original route much further down. And, it was pretty wide open. Harder to drive on, to be sure, because the snow was getting pretty thick (and believe you me, I don't have chains), but at least I was moving!

I made my way out of the city and followed the backroad I knew, driving slowly, and sliding around here and there. When I turned to make my way up the small yet steeper than you'd think hill to get to one of the two main roads to my house (not including the freeway), I promptly got stuck in the snow. Every time I tried to go up, I'd slide back. So I braked and put my hazards on and started crying because I didn't know how to drive in the snow really and my car is so not 4 wheel drive.

Then a cop car pulled up behind me and helped me back up up and go another way. Thanks, random Portland cop who showed up at the right time! Seriously great timing on his part.

I headed toward the other route I knew, which I wasn't super hopeful about because it's a smaller road, but what choice did I have? I called my boyfriend and put him on speaker to keep me calm, because I was pretty much freaking out by this point. It was dark and icy and the snow kept coming and I was definitely scared of not getting home and, since I saw no Tauntauns around, I'd probably freeze to death.

So then, of course, there's quite the windy hill on this other road and I got stuck in the snow yet again. And, this time, every time I try to back up, I slide more and more around so that I'm getting perpendicular to the road. And I'm crying and freaking out. I try to pull over to the side, thinking maybe I can abandon my car on the side and walk to Starbucks or something where my boyfriend, with his  4WD Subaru (the official state car of Oregon), can come rescue me. But it's not working. I can't get to the side because there's too much snow.

Finally, I was able to back up into a side road and turn around and head back where I came. Boyfriend told me to go to a grocery store on that road, where he'd come get me and I could leave my car until the Snowpocalypse had passed.

I get to the grocery store about 6:15pm, sooooo excited to walk around and thought to by some gluten free bread (we were out) and wandered around, stretching my legs, and Boyfriend called, saying he can't get his car up our steep driveway.

And then I really did flip out. He offered to walk to me (what good would that do now?) and I just kept yelling and crying that I'd FIGURE IT OUT! Sigh.

I can't remember how I decided to try to find a route to the freeway, but that's what I would try. I stopped to get gas just in case and backtracked toward downtown, looking for the freeway entrance (I didn't know that route at all) and, again, keeping my boyfriend on speakerphone.

It took a long time, but I slowly found the freeway and crept along with the surprisingly few other cars all the way to my exit and then home, where I found Boyfriend standing in the snow, waiting for me. I wandered inside, cold, tense, and completely exhausted at 7pm. I'd been driving in the snow for 6 hours and it took me 4 to go 6 miles.

Then I spent a half and hour telling everyone who was worried about me that I'd made it home safely. Finally.

It's been snowing steadily since and, except for going out to take tons of photos and play around, I am not going out in that. No way, no how. You couldn't pay me anything to get in a car in the snow again.

Here are some crappy iPhone shots of what it looks like today. Better shots coming soon once I actually finish taking them and then editing.

Pretty sure my plants have died. And our front step is completely gone.

Anyone have a shovel?

Pretty

This is our driveway. Yup. Promise.

Is...how you say...freezing!

It's been colder than Santa's balls here in Portland the last few weeks. I assume Santa's balls are cold on account of the North Pole being pretty chilly and he doesn't look like he gets much action. So, as you can imagine, pretty damn cold.

We've gotten a little snow here and there, though nothing to brag about, but it's mostly been just damn cold and clear and icy and foggy. Most Portlanders would kill me for saying this, but I can't wait for the rain to come back. But that will warm things up a bit! Yikes it's cold out there.

So last weekend, Eminem and I drove a good three hours out of Portland to a cabin his folks have and then I promptly started to get a cold, which made me, per usual, a cranky, dramatic pain in the ass. But, my man handled it like a champ. As he always does. Which is why I love him.

But, even though I was getting sick, I refused to drive all that way just to watch football and movies and eat enough gluten free cookies to last me through the apocalypse, so I drug our freezing asses outside and we walked around a frozen lake and I got some great photos out of it. Totally worth losing my nose to frostbite, but that's what committed photographers are all about.



Then I came home to a week from hell. Between this cold that threatened to be the flu and feeling some immense stress from work and then some other shit which I just can't talk about, it was hard. Super hard yo.

Then a friend told me (so, you know, a very reliable source) that historically, that's the most depressing week of the year. Something to do with it being fucking freezing and everyone's stressed from coming off the holidays, blah blah blah. So that made me feel better.

And Saturday I got to go to my very first Trail Blazer's game. And even though they lost and even though I thought I might get into a LA girl throw down more than a few times (because that's how California girls do it. so don't fuck with us.), I had fun!

Still, even though it was freezing all night, a great reward for trudging along in the cold to do something with your guy that he genuinely loves is always cuddling with a human radiotor that makes you tea and breakfast in the morning. In case you missed it, my boyfriend is a human radiator. The man emits heat that could cure a hypothermia victim. Hospitals should keep him on standby.

As one parting thought, I've never liked the term "pussy whipped" for what I hope are obvious reasons. It's a horrible term. But I now own apparel for pretty much all of my boyfriend's favorite sports teams (except the Pats. because I'll always be a Niners girl).

So you tell me who's whipped.

there and back again

Oh, Internet. I’ve given up at this point trying to post every week. Every two weeks feels about right with my insane schedule. And I have several posts going in my head all the time, but finding the time to sit down and write them is proving problematic.

And it’s not like my schedule is even that insane. I don’t have kids. I don’t have to cook or clean for anyone but myself. But between how tired I am once I get home from work, social commitments, and trying to have some kind of enjoyable personal time, I just don’t write much. But I think that’s okay for now. I’m navigating this part of my life and I think the best thing is that I’m kind to myself through it. We all know what a perfectionist I can be, perfectionist bordering on masochist. So whatever happens, I just want to be less hard on myself.

Anyway, here I am, finally writing. I’ve yet to find a coffee shop in my neighborhood I really like so I’m installed in a Starbucks for the time being. It’s not ideal of course. It’s so corporate and the paper cups just aren’t as conducive to creativity as huge, funky mugs are. Does that make sense? There’s something about a cozy little neighborhood shop with its quirks and oddities that make my brain flow. But oh well. First world problem. Shit, plenty of writers pen their greatest works in annexes and bunkers and shacks. I should stop complaining about the Starbucks.

And, hey, I love how Starbucks is supporting women’s and LGBT rights. So there.

It’s been a crazy time, Internet. First, I had the Black Plague for a whole week. Otherwise known as bronchitis. And it knocked me on the ass. Not being able to breathe properly will do that to you. I finally drug my ass to the doctor, which we know I’m loathe to do because of my hypochondriac, drug addict mother.

When I was a kid, she drug me to the doctor for every damn sniffle, had them put me on antibiotics (the woman knows how to get her way), and kept me home for inordinate amounts of time (and trust me, I would rather have been in school learning and playing with my friends).

So anyway, I go to the doctor and describe my symptoms and tell him I just want to make sure I don’t have the plague. He listens to my lungs and tells me I have bronchitis and then looks at me disapprovingly and tells me it’s viral so I can’t have antibiotics. Like I had asked for them. I hate that fucking look and I get it all the time because of people like my mom who just want their Z Packs so they can get all better. I’m not that way, though. I’d rather my body fight it off if possible, but if I’m sick for a whole week and can’t breathe, I do want to make sure it’s not serious. I don’t really want the drugs, doc! Ugg. Pisses me off.

Fucking doctors. Fucking hypochondriacs.

Then I finally got better and Portland got a little bit of sun for two whole minutes, two whole minutes of glorious, glorious sunshine. I went running and I walked around downtown and it was AHHH! Then it was shit again. Fuck this, weather, Portland. Fuck it. It’s April. I do expect a little rain still because, face it, it’s Portland, but this freezing cold muck is making me insane. We even had snow a couple weeks ago. True story.

You’re really testing my love for you, Portland. It’s time for Spring already.

It’s time for ballet flats and lighter jackets and flowy scarves. It’s time to get outside and run and hike and take photos of flowers. I took a chance today and went out to take photos. I got about 10 minutes in and the heavens opened up and dumped the sky upon me. My poor camera just couldn’t brave it.

Sigh.

I really wish I could afford a weekend in SoCal right now. I’d get to see my friends and fam and get some Vitamin D while I’m at it. But I am going down to Humboldt Easter weekend to see my cousin and her immensely pregnant belly. There will be a photo shoot. Oh yes. Expect lots of photos.

I wasn’t going to share this next bit of news, but I think I have to because it’s just too delicious. I saw my ex last weekend. And while it was only minimally awkward, mostly because he tried to talk to me a couple times and I just didn’t have anything to say to him (I just don’t want to tell him about my life and I couldn’t give a flying fuck about his), I did feel a little good about myself. Like, let’s face it, I looked good. And he, well, he looks...different.

Ahem.

But more than that, he was the same old idiot asshole and, not that I needed any reminding (I honestly have been thanking my stars that ending for quite some time), but every time he’d say something asinine, I’d just feel such a huge wave of disgust. Disgust for him and disgust for myself that I ever found that guy attractive (I wanted to write man, but let’s be honest. He’s not a man). And it just felt like I’d dodged the biggest bullet ever, the bullet of an asshole idiot lush. Just saying.

And the guy who would’ve been my date couldn’t be there and that’s okay I think. I was awesome all on my own and that’s that.

You may at this point be wondering who my date would’ve been. And I confess, I’ve been keeping the best for last, Internet. I’m sure you’ve been wondering about Eminem. And that’s still going. Going really great actually!  It’s nothing like my last relationships. It’s easy and fun and full of butterflies and laughter. I know this probably seems obvious but I forgot what it was like to date someone you just get along with so easily. We just get along so well and make each other laugh and eat lots and lots of really yummy food.

This is the best, people. Of all the things to have in common, I’m so glad we both enjoy food. Seriously. I’m talking about truly enjoying food.

Yesterday, we were eating at this amazing Greek place in NW Portland and as I was eating these melty, zesty, zingy, heavenly potatoes, potatoes that were making my tongue orgasm, I realized that moments like that are just what I love about life and it’s so nice to have someone who gets that and to share that with.

We have a longass list that is still growing of places we want to eat together. It’ll be a miracle if we don’t both get huge. This is another reason I need spring to get here. So I can go running and counteract all the gluttony. That and all the sex. Sex is a great workout.

Any to the way, my point is that it’s so far so good. I’m understandable cautious. I don’t have the greatest track record after all so I’m just taking one day at a time and seeing where it goes. And thus far, it feels really good.

I have a couple cool things in the works for myself, like voice lessons (eek!) and possibly starting yoga again. So stay tuned!

Photo of the Day: Portland's version of snow

It snowed for 2 whole minutes the other day in my neighborhood so of course I ran outside to get lots of photos, which ended up just looking like raindrops because it was so wet the damn snow wouldn't stick. Le sigh.

Photo of the Day: From Snowy River

We've had an unusually stormy start to the year here in Small Town, Southern California and that has resulted in some very pretty views. Do you see how low the snow line is? Doya? Doya? Huh? Huh? Yeah. That's not typical. Usually around this time of year, the snow starts about halfway up. Most of that had melted though by this week because of the trademark blue skies of SoCal (see: photo above). But we've got a decent storm partyin' its heart out this weekend, so next week should be gawgeous.

Photo of the Day: Urban Snow

I took this last year in Kansas City on a morning after a snow storm and what I love about this shot are the contrasts: fresh snow and barren city alleyway, religious symbol and graffiti. This photo symbolizes everything I loved and miss about living in a city. The contrasts, the clash of cultures and ideas and images mashed up against each other and if you step back it can be quite beautiful. See the full image here.

Also, I wish it would snow. Don't laugh. Southern California. HA. Ha. ha. But I grew up in a desert and we'd usually get one good snow a year. And while I don't miss the desert (the dust and the wind and the tweakers), I do miss real winter. And desert thunderstorms. Nothing like it.