My Day of Doom.

Well, it looks like they're going to take my driver's license away again, but for good this time.

I think that when I really know something is final, I get quickly into acceptance.

Either that or I'm just so wiped from the jaw surgery that I don't give a fuck right now.

Upon my visit with my doc yesterday, we were filling out more forms ...

... if you want to really know what hell on earth is, get hit on your motorcycle, then live to fill out a gagillion forms for the rest of your fucking life ...

... and the question came up about driving.

By all three of us talking it out, my doctor decided she was wrong in granting me permission for a driver's license.

My argument was that there are many people with a disability out there who drive, and that I feel I drive fine.  However, I was reminded about all the other people out there that keep trying to kill me.

... what?!?!? you mean it's not all about me?!?! ...

The point of the discussion was, that Papi doesn't feel safe when I'm driving and personally, I'm fucking terrified every time I get into a vehicle anyway.

My P.T.S.D. has calmed to the point where I don't have panic attacks that have me turning blue in the face, but I still feel the edge, and with my brain injury, when I get stressed, I don't think clearly.

When I drive I'm stressed.

If someone were to come around to try to kill me again, ...

... keep on trying bitches ... apparently i'm immortal ...

... both my doc and Papi said that I'm not reacting fast enough to get away from the crazies out there who have been adamant about removing me from earth.

I'm not safe to protect myself, therefore, I'm not safe to be behind the wheel.

I was pretty upset, understandably, because my love has never really pushed the fact that he's afraid when I'm behind the wheel.

I was also very embarrassed and felt a little humiliated, because I've tried so hard to get my life back to where it was before the motorcycle accident.

It felt like failure.  Failure to drive.  Failure to work.  Failure from healing 100% from this accident.

Upon thinking it over for the past day, what I realized is, that by not driving, I may have less stress.

This is good for anyone really, but for me, less stress will definitely make my life better.

Although, what is hard about where I dwell in this city, is that I'm in an area with the privileged, so the buses really suck.

Not to mention, when this bitch of a back is in a flare up, it will take me half an hour to walk, or rather, wobble, to the bus stop.

I guess I'll have to get reinstated for the short bus I was a driver for, then became a passenger on, then tried to get back as a driver twice, but failed, and now I'll be back to a passenger.

Make sense?  Probably not.

It will be a new journey for me.  I have the feeling I'll be talking to 'you', my imaginary friend, from coffee shops all around the city.

I'm trying very hard not to let my independence being stolen from me affect me in a negative way.

I'm still learning as I go as to what 'letting go' really means.

One thing I can say is, there's always a reason for everything.

Perhaps, I'm not immortal and my big ending is looming around the corner, waiting to knock my invincibility down.

Perhaps, I'm not supposed to be hit and taken from my music yet.

Perhaps, if I just let it go, it won't be as bad as I fear.

sometimes, not getting what you want is a wonderful stroke of luck