Learning To Drive & Deprogramming Inherited Trauma
Nau mai haere mai ki tenei Substack.
Honestly, it should be illegal to take bad pictures for legal documents. But here we are.
I’ve been a mum for 3.5 years now and the amount of unlearning I have had to do from my own childhood has led to a stage of development where I can shed the luggage of my past self.
It took a bunch of self loathing in my past to get here. All of the drinking, the smoking - the other stuff. Now, as a mother, I am privileged and grateful to get to a stage where I don’t ever want to visit that place again. I don’t need to - even though we all know it’s always there. I can feel a night out lurking in the corner of our local karaoke bars, snorting its way through smelly toilets and losing their phones in the couches of a forgotten acquaintance.
Not everyone has the opportunity or the time to shed their former self. Most of us are working to reach the ever shifting finishing lines, those goalposts that at the end of the day, don’t really mean anything.
Why do we keep doing that? Why do we place all of this cortisol inside the pocket of a place that just wants you to pay a rich mans rates? Pay for their couples cruises or pay for their brats to blurt out another app idea like every other Tuesday?
All I see on my Instagram feed these days are a bunch of eyes, watching me. All I wonder is what they see. Now that I have a self awareness of the shadowed refection we all cast upon the black mirror, I thought I’d come on here and give you all a piece of myself. Because I’m a writer and now I’m an open book for all of you to come and snack on. If need be.
I’m rather tentative to refer to myself as a writer because I think most writers are annoying. You know what, maybe I am? It’s their job to be up in everyones business, to constantly look over phrasing and tempo. How could I not be one? I can be the most annoying person in the room if I want to.
My writing style is colloquial, because I don’t enjoy the agony of correct grammar. Otherwise we’d be here all day, wouldn’t we? It feels like wearing stiletto heels, sure, the words look nice but I can smell the blood leaking from your big toe. I grew up around the literary world of Aotearoa New Zealand which is steeped in so much Anglo snobbery that impressing people from that world has become wildly unappealing to me.
What was great about being the only kid at a book launch was hearing adults having proper conversations that did not need to end neatly or even have a point at all. Most of the time they were arguing or having deeply emotional gossips, all of over a glass of complimentary merlot.
Why do writers love red wine so much? It gives me the worst hangovers. Perhaps thats part of their process?
Recently I learned how to drive. It’s been a long time coming, I am old enough to forget what age I’m turning each year. I feel really silly because for years, it felt like everyone else around me found it easy to pick up. Sometimes they had to buy their own car or learn a couple of valuable lessons along the way but at the end of the day, they kept driving.
Myself on the other hand? I’m a pedestrian at heart, I like walking. In many ways walking is so much better for you. There are opportunities everyday to go out and see the world and then eventually, you end up at the destination you were heading to. The ritual of walking with purpose made my body and mind stronger.
Another pleasure of walking was that I could smoke and listen to music or bump into someone who would make my day. Moving from the CBD of Auckland to the paradise island of Waiheke has made my nihilistic urges quell and taper off into a distant memory. I’ve started looking after myself and gave up my vices. At least there are still heaps of people to bump into and chat with here.
On my fathers side we have something that he refers to as ‘Chaffer Syndrome’. According to his theory, members of our family prefer to have a driver than be one.
My ancestor William Marsters was Queen Victoria’s cousin. In the 19th Century, William sailed away from that dreary place and landed on an atoll called Palmerston Island where he had three wives. Every time I meet a Marsters we are automatically connected, there are so many of us worldwide now. I wonder if our royal connection had something to do with my reluctance? Perhaps there is a passenger gene?
No, I’ll admit that my reluctance to driving was anxiety. Beautiful, undiagnosed, untreated anxiety. I still haven’t done anything about it but killing my former self has helped get me behind the wheel at least.
Before, I could not get into the passenger seat without my whole life passing before my eyes. After I had my beautiful precious son, there was no way I was going to put our lives in jeopardy just so I could get to the shops faster. So I remained a pedestrian for 2 years after he was born.
And guess what? Waiheke Island is a driving place. The busses run every 30min and even though their drivers are so nice (shoutouts Mikey), the hills are brutal and without wheels, those kohanga days left me with about 2.5 hours to do stuff. I couldn’t even procrastinate and that compromises my well being.
Making the decision to learn was a matter of respecting the amount of patience and understanding my partner had for me. He was our driver, and I’ll never forget how incredibly generous he was by supporting me through this gargantuan hurdle as I healed through the learning process.
My mum is a demonic driver, she’s from Hamilton originally. As a kid, she always said “You can swear when you drive”. In the 90s for school drop off, her colourful language was delivered to the public of Auckland through the misty windscreen of our bright yellow Triumph 2000. Every morning it was like she was fighting with her car.
The unexpected part of the learning process behind driving was letting go of the past. I don’t need to treat my partner and friends as a chaffer and I’m not going to behave like everyone is racing me through the red light. I can drive in my own way and care about everyone on the road. Afterall, we all have somewhere to go, y’know?
I had a couple of lessons with a driving instructor on the island. He taught me a few pointer that I think have shaped my wider attitude to life and now Dear Reader, I’m going to share them with you. They’re fantastic guidelines that help me remain present and aware of the multitude of people out there on the road and upon this mortal plane we call Life.
Look 12 seconds ahead.
Remain present, don’t dwell on the past and make sure you leave a little room to anticipate anything unexpected that may develop in the near future.
They’re just thinking about what to have for lunch.
On my first lesson I had a huge truck tailgate me. I panicked and cried, which was super embarrassing. The instructor told me that the truck driver wasn’t even thinking about the impact they have had on me as the driver, “…they were probably just thinking about what to have for lunch”.
I found this one humbling because the root of my anxiety is assuming that I’m the centre of the universe (Newsflash, I’m not). Truck drivers do have insane hours, it’s important to think about their situation too. Maybe it’s time for smoko? It makes sense to apply this ethos to all of the people out there who may seem inconsiderate. Because even though they are, their vibe does not have to effect me.
You are allowed to be on the road.
I struggle with Imposter Syndrome. Enough said.
M.I.B.
Mirror, Indicator, Blindspot. I need to watch my back, communicate clearly to people about my direction and keep an extra eye out for all of life’s curve balls. I need to stop acting so surprised when Life chucks another lesson at me.
Use your horn.
Now is not the time to be complacent. Tell people who are doing bad stuff they can absolutely save it and place it in the goddamn bin. Speak up, never mind looking rude or angry. Sometimes people need to know so they can snap out of it. Honk honk!!
Plan out a safer route.
It is a simple concept but arriving somewhere safely can be compromised by life’s unmissable curve balls. Either way, it’s a good thing to strive for even if it doesn’t end up that way.
You can always pull over.
Knowing when to pause, and get out of the way is so valuable. It sucks getting wrapped up in some other peoples mess.
Make sure you have had something to eat.
I get hangry and stupid when I don’t eat. We all do. Kate Moss once said ‘Food doesn’t taste as good as skinny feels’ to which I say, ‘You have obviously not tasted anything good enough to eat.’
So that’s my first take on my first Substack. I don’t know when I’ll post on here or where the blogging may take me. I’m not going to monetise the Substak but I’m going to set up a donation button and see what happens. I like the idea that this is a record, some kind of think piece about whatever comes into my head. I’m working on an album at the moment so I’ll keep you posted.
Mā te wa - until next time.