So I'm waiting on the side of the road with the hazard light on. Jamie's not answering his phone. I heard a clunk, then the sound of something scraping on the road, so I pulled over, checked underneath, and saw the tell tale sign of a torn drive belt. Sigh. I know Jamie's in the shed, but perhaps the phones inside.
Cars are roaring past, defying the speed limit as they do on country roads in Victoria. The van shakes. It'd be dangerous to sit in it, just in case no one is paying attention and I get rear ended. It's okay. It's a nice day. I can sit in the grass and watch the clouds and the seed pods nodding. I text a neighbour, who walks down to the shed to get Jamie.
There's a lot of cars going past. Utes. Work trucks. A council van. Even a police car. Think about it. There's a van with it's door open on the side of the road with it's hazard lights on and a woman lying in the grass. Would you stop and ask if she was okay? I'm a little boggled actually. It's been half an hour of waiting and *not one single person pulls over*.
Perhaps the universe knows I'm okay and doesn't end help. Perhaps I just look okay. Perhaps people would think if I actually wanted help, I could wave someone down, after all. I sit and chew on grass, take a few photos, wish I had my camera to take some interesting photos. I'm feeling sorry for Jamie, who has yet another job to do. I know it's fixable, and I'll be driving into Geelong in the afternoon to get a few parts, so I'm not particularly bothered. IT's a shame I've missed low tide - I was hoping to clear out a little congestion in the salt water. You know, Christmas colds.
I get to thinking about how most of the time, people just look okay. It's very difficult to see signs of distress until it's too late. I remember when I had my stress breakdown at work. There were a ton of signs - I mean, I wasn't really paying attention to my nervous system then and I was too busy to listen to myself. Management certain weren't paying attention - not to my sick days, not to my loud bitching in the staffroom, to my request for a few of the counselling sessions the school pays for each year and various other signs that were quite clearly extreme stress. It wasn't tell I broke down beyond repair - anyone got some spare mental health parts? - that they were forced to acknowledge my blinking hazard lights and put a system in place to get me through the year. To this day, I feel angry that I was made to believe it was *my* fault. Proper work place gaslighting. No one admitted they'd overloaded me, and nothing *really* changed. I was just encouraged to go part time 'to help me cope better' and then eventually supported to exit. It took me a long time to realise it wasn't a failure on my part - I was a capable, passionate teacher in a brutal system that put far too many pressures on teachers to perform.
I don't think we're very good at recognising the hazard lights when people are struggling. We think people are doing fine, even when their behaviour is showing them to be another but. There's a guy in town who posts often on Facebook, moaning about everything in town. He dries people crazy. Most people avoid him. But most people didn't realise he was off his meds. On his medication he was a calm and functioning member of society. I think there's a lot of that online, particularly with trolls and people picking for a fight. I wonder what trauma's gone in in their life for them to behave so badly. It's why I tend to be really kind online even if I intensely disagree with what people saying or think they're being an asshole. Sometimes people are strugglig and their hazard lights can drive us insane. We forget our compassion. We forget to slow down.
Then there's all the other signs. Sadness. Withdrawing from family and friends. Drinking more. Changes in behaviour. Being distant and disinterested, irritable, moody. Imagine the difference we could make if we actually paid attention to people. Really paid attention to them. Asked them if they were okay. Gave them a little kindness and compassion. And that's total strangers too. It's amazing how you can turn someone's day around just by being a little nice to someone.
I guess it's hard when we're screaming down our own road of life, trying to look after our own. Life can be hard. Things get stressful. We all seem on the verge of a nervous breakdown, sometimes.
It ends up being a big day, with lots of driving. I'm exhausted, on the couch hivin' and watching telly. Some Icelandic crime show. My hip hurts. I wonder if I do have COVID after all. Jamie's knackered too, having worked on the Defender all day changing the springs. He's on the other couch. Every now and then we reach over to each other and grip each others hands really tight.
'You okay, my love?'
'You okay, my love?'
With Love,
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