More Lessons Learned in Bad Driving

So, not even a month ago, I put a scratch in some truck and it kind of caused me to not be in school for the time being. You know. Because I need money to pay for it and all. And other things. But I was okay with that. I mean, I figured I needed a break to get ready to start working on my psychology degree and get myself situated to move out, anyway.
But then last night, I rear ended someone and now the front of my car is gone and my insurance company could very well drop me.
Okay. Quick rant. Your car was designed with a dang turn signal for a reason. Use the dang turn signal so that people don’t have to slam on their brakes and rear end people and wreck their cars and make little girls cry and further complicate the life of newly graduated 18 year old who just wants to figure things out and now has to work even more to try to get a headstart on her career, but now can’t because all of her money will be going to fix all of the cars involved in the stupid accident that you caused.
I’m so good at putting blame on everyone but myself. But in all honesty, I’m just a bad driver and it was my fault more than I want to admit. First off, I’m a woman. Second off, I’m part Asian. Sorry not sorry.
But that stereotype thing is just another way of me trying to get out of the responsibility I know is on me. That little girl crying was my fault. She was crying because my car was destroyed. Not even because I hit her and it was scary. Because my car got messed up. I love kids. I can’t come to terms with that.
And that’s probably because of how prideful I am. Goodness. I discovered last night that I had deeper things to deal with than the ghettomobile getting destroyed.
I hate attention most of the time. You get a whole lot of attention when you cause a wreck on the middle of a busy road. That was embarrassing. And what made it worse was that I was on a little mission, getting change from different stores. I just wanted to do it because I was trying to prove that I was capable of being in control of things. Because that means a lot to me. More than it should. And of course,  I would have to wreck my car in the process of proving myself responsible.
There’s this Avett Brothers song that just says, “Shame, shame, boatloads of shame” a lot, and that was me last night. I felt terribly stupid with every phone call I made. I had to call my boss, my coworker, my parents, my boyfriend. And then word spread and I got even more calls and had to talk to everyone else as well. They were just concerned, I know. But I couldn’t handle that. I felt like the dumbest person alive. And me having to explain it over and over and over again really did a lot to my pride.
Here’s the worst part of it. I’m very competitive at work. Extremely so. And one of my coworkers came out to where I was waiting with the cops to pick up the money I had got before the wreck. And she was concerned. She gave me a charger, offered to stay with me, told me she loved me, hugged me a lot. And literally, my pride was so hurt that I was just angry. I know she didn’t have bad intentions, but I felt so ashamed that anyone had to see me and what I’d done, especially someone I had tried so hard to prove my capabilities to. So yeah. Didn’t handle that, or anything, how I should have.
And my pride is still working on me. I wanted to kick God and just about everyone else out of my life last night because I was so sick of Him (and them) having to deal with this. Because I’m just that prideful. I literally said, “God. Please leave. I can’t handle you having to put up with me being so stupid and irresponsible. I know it hurts you when I keep making mistakes.”
And God said something a little like, “How about not. Can we just take a second to remember just how much I love you, and how much effort I’ve put into proving that to you? Why would I invest so much into you and leave just because you’re not perfect? It’s a process, love, one I’m committed to. I meant it when I made covenant with you. You breaking that off wouldn’t heal my pain I feel when I see you struggling at all. It would only make it worse to know that you won’t accept my help. I don’t mind that you need help. That’s what I’m here for. That’s what love is. I’m not disappointed, not in the least. And I’m not going anywhere, no matter how hard you fight it, or how high you let your wall of pride grow. My love is bigger than that, and if you think you can keep me out because of your dysfunction, just know that you’re only increasing my drive to fight for you. I’m here. I mean it. I’ll pursue you with love you’ve never even heard of, and you’re not going to have a choice but to forget about your shortcomings and to be consumed by the love that covers all imperfections. You’re mine. Deal with it.”
So yeah. I killed my car but at least I understand pride a little more.

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