Like getting hit by a bus
I think I’m one of the rare people who can say they were hit by a bus and lived to tell the tale…
Last night, on my way home from dinner with a friend, I was stopped at an intersection while heading north on a major thoroughfare in my area. I got the green light to go. Entered the intersection. And slammed my brakes on half-way through in enough time to stop and see a county bus swipe the front of my car with its right side.
I was pretty scared.
I pulled over at the side of the road. The bus had made its turn and was a good hundred feet down the road. I don’t think he saw me. I have a feeling that a passenger may have told him, “dude, you just hit someone”.
Since the bus had stopped so far away and there was a major intersection seperating us, I wasn’t sure how I was going to get the information I knew I would need for the insurance claim. There wasn’t a great deal of damage to my car, but certainly enough to make it worth my while. Fortunately, I flagged a County police officer down, who pulled around and safely blocked off my car. He began taking my statement when the bus driver came over and began to accuse me of jumping the light. Yeah, right. Like I want to RUN INTO A BUS! The cop stepped in and he backed down, and the officer found (rightfully so) the bus driver at fault.
So, now the bureaucratic hullabaloo has to begin. I have to fail a claim with the County. They get a third party adjuster involved. I can see that this is not going to be easy. I need to get my hands on the copy of the police report. I also need to get to a doctor because my back, neck and shoulders are achy and getting worse as the day goes on. I need to get checked out.
What I keep going back to about this whole thing was the timing. If I’d been a second sooner, or if he was a second later, it would have been a direct impact on the driver’s side of my car and I’d probably be toast. Or at least in pretty bad shape.
Time is an amazing thing, isn’t it – the instant perfection or distruction, depending on the situation…
Stuck
I don’t mean for every post as of late to be negative. I’m in a confusing place in my life right now and writing and sharing it – with the world, I suppose – makes me feel a bit better. Strange therapy, I know, but getting it out there is good.
I’m feeling stuck. It’s like being stuck on a roller coaster during the ascend. You have this wild and crazy, exciting ride in front of you. You don’t know exactly what it’s going to feel like – all the twists and turns and corkscrews, but you know that it’s better than that anxious climb up hill. And then you stop. And it won’t move. And you have all this fun to look forward to but it just isn’t happening. And there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.
That’s how I feel.
Those twists and turns I’m longing for include, in no specific order, moving out of the DC area; starting a family; reconnecting with my true self. The abrupt stopping of the forward momentum I need to plunge myself forward is caused by the job market, i.e., Scott needs and wants to secure a job before we can move, and once said job is secured, we have to sell our house. In this economy, both maneuvers are tricky.
These issues combined with other feelings I’m experiencing, make the whole situation all the more frustrating. I love my job, but I’m burnt out, and there is a lot about my job that I don’t love. I work, on average, 50-60 hours a week. I get to spend just one day a week with my husband; who I barely see anymore. When I’m not actually working, I’m on-call, and often interruptions to my personal life occur. A phone call here, a conference call there, an e-mail or ten later and free time has evaporated to another work day. There’s not a lot of “me time”, and more importantly to me, there’s not a lot of “us time” with the hubs. This has been the most difficult part of this job, and an area that has me feeling regretful of the circumstances.
I’ve always liked to think of myself as a free spirit. Growing up in Wyoming, I feel an intense connection to nature and my community. I’ve lived in the DC area for about 7 years now. When I first moved here I loved the urban vibe and being so close to the center of politics; a subject I’ve always been interested in. There’s a thriving arts community here. But the overinflated ego of the metro area has become too much to bear. The sprawl and crawl of the population density make a man-made lake the only peaceful refuge easily accessible, but it’s hard to connect with the sound of cars whizzing by. I miss clean air. I miss being able to see for miles in any direction. I miss the slower pace of life. And I cannot raise children with the people that live here. The inflated sense of ego and entitlement is flabbergasting. I don’t share those values and while I know that I can still raise a family without adopting that lifestyle, I also feel that I’m in the minority here when it comes to this type-a driven area, and I’d rather be a smaller fish in a smaller pond before I spawn. (nice image, huh?)
So, like fishing in a big lake, we’ve thrown some bait out there in hopes that we’ll reel something in that will set this coaster in motion. But it’s always the waiting that’s maddening. I cried on my English Muffin this morning. Something has to give soon…if we could just pick up some speed…
