Stalled at the Corner of D&D

I remember when D&D stood for Dungeons & Dragons. My kids believe that it stands for “doom and destruction,” which is how we jokingly refer to the intersection where we had the accident. That was back in November, but I still hold my breath occasionally when I drive through there.

As my doctor checked me thoroughly for neck injuries, I described the accident to her: “It was raining. I heard an ambulance siren. I checked my rear-view mirror but saw no flashing lights. The driver behind me was being cautious—plenty of stopping distance. I tapped the brakes gently. Looking up, I saw the lights approaching, in my lane. I leaned on my brakes. Then I heard a loud ringing in my ears. When the car finally skidded to a stop across the four-lane intersection, I realized that it was the ‘door indicator.’ The sliding door on the passenger side was crushed open, accordion style. There was screaming and crying coming from the back seats of the van. All three children were with me, but my 14 year old is great in a crisis. She calmed her brother and sister down, while I called 911.” My doctor nodded and didn’t say a word.

“It wasn’t the driver behind me,” I continued. “He came right over to help. It was the driver behind him, who didn’t hear the siren, who was in an awful hurry, who didn’t realize why traffic had slowed to a near-stop, who slammed on his brakes when he scooted in between us.” “Oh, I see,” she said nodding again. “And have you driven through there since the accident?” she asked. I checked my watch. 10:30 a.m. “Yes, of course. Four times today already,” I replied. “And how do feel about that?” she asked. “I’m still pretty anxious,” I admitted, “but I’ll have to get over it.” “It will take some time,” she cautioned.

It’s been months, and I still feel a bit jittery at that corner, especially when it rains. Is this PTSD? I’ve been in far more stressful situations, including 15 seconds of terror during a major earthquake. No one was seriously injured in the crash, and although my car was totaled, it was easily replaced. So why did I freeze to a stop last week when I heard an ambulance siren as I approached that intersection? Maybe the main difference between easily getting over previous shocks in my 20’s and feeling stalled at the Corner of D&D in my 40’s is that I now possess the cumulative experience of life’s stresses. And it is more difficult to unlearn a reinforced response. Still, I’m doing the best I can and using all my mental resources-- especially my sense of humor--to assist in my recovery. As it turns out, dungeons and dragons are not so scary after all.

My two Jims

My teenage daughter is thoroughly embarrassed by my inclination to chat with strangers as we go about our errands. "You don't have to talk to everyone who passes by," she grouched at me as we waited in front of the movie theater for her friend to arrive. Still, I find these friendly conversations have a positive effect on my life. Recently, two of the people who I see regularly-- at the coffee shop and the copy shop-- made my day. Coincidentally, both of these people are named Jim.

The first Jim is the manager of the Starbucks nearest to my kids' school. Sometimes I hang out there, nursing a latte and scribbling in my writer's notebook, while I wait for afternoon carpool to begin. Jim, who is also a writer, once noticed me working and struck up a conversation. He is a big, gentle bear of a man. Last week I told him that a publisher was interested in reading my manuscript, and he shook my hand so hard I was left breathless. Jim's agent is trying to get him a movie deal for one of his books. I can't wait to bear-hug him when he shares his good news with me.

The second Jim is a customer service rep at the neighborhood Office Max. Between teaching, writing and pottery, I have a lot of photocopying needs, so I spend a lot time there. In fact, I have already been there 3x this week. On Monday, when I went in to ask about binding the manuscript, I was surprised that Jim wasn't there to help me. I discovered he was scheduled for the afternoon shift this week. "Well, tell him I stopped by to see him," I told Robin. Later that day, when I was juggling several canvas bags filled with yummy treats from Trader Joe's and thinking about my nice chat with the man in the checkout line, a tall man called to me, "Hey, there! How have you been?" It was Jim! I told him about missing him that morning at Office Max and about finishing the manuscript. I almost dropped my bags as congratulated me with a hug.

I think that married adults shy away from touching folks who are not our spouses and children. It's too bad, actually. A friendly hug can communicate support more effectively than words. As I move to the next stage of the publishing process, feeling so uncertain of success and occasionally lonely in my new existence as a writer, I find that my optimism and perseverance are bolstered by my two Jims. I am grateful for our many ways they cheer me on and brighten my daily existence. Technically, they are no longer strangers to me -- but only because I consider running errands an opportunity to connect with others in my community.