Not that I don’t have more than one…
I’ve recently discovered that I have trust issues. Well, I’ve recently put it into words; I’ve always known I had trust issues. As a kid at summer camp, I could never do the thing where you stand on a stump and fall over backwards into peoples’ arms. Just could not do it. Couldn’t let my swim instructor hold me and guide me into a dive.
I don’t trust people with my physical safety.
When I’m a passenger in a car, I get nervous. Other cars and objects seem too close. I’m convinced that the driver will miss the turn, forget where we’re going, take the less efficient route. I’m on edge, just waiting for the inevitable accident.
When I’m in the boat, I fight the urge to grab the steering wheel and slow us down. It takes everything I’ve got to breathe, trusting that there isn’t a boat speeding headlong into us from around the next corner.
I’ve been poking at this neurosis, and have realized that there my distrust doesn’t extend universally. I don’t worry when either Mom or Dad are behind the wheel.
Unresolved childhood issues, much?
Need to work on this. My husband is a grown man who knows how to drive. My sister is – I must remind myself – a grown woman who knows how to drive. (Heck, she’s turning 23 this week. How’s that even possible?)
Guys, I promise it’s nothing personal. I’m just a nervous wreck freak.
(In my defense, I suspect it’s related to my lack of stereoscopic vision. Still – it makes me sick, and is insulting to others. Need to work on it.)