Five on the five: Escaping from coronachaos and other stresses

Once upon  a time there was a little girl who didn't know what she wanted to do in life. So she indulged in driving country roads, riding her bike, walking in the woods, drinking tea, and reading books.  Then one day she realized she was growing older and that maybe it was time to figure out her future. So she thought about it and thought about it and thought about it, until it gave her a headache. She just couldn't figure it out. So she went back to indulging in driving country roads, riding her bike, drinking tea, and...

It'll end someday.

When I moved out of my parents' house in Virginia into my first apartment, I ended up in new territory-- Maryland.  Being on my own for the first time in an area I wasn't the least familiar with, I started going out driving a lot, to explore and get to know my way around.  There was a lot less of the suburbs back then, much more farmland and forest.  Often in the evenings after work, I'd get in the car and pick some country road I'd driven past on another day, turning onto it at nightfall and cruising in the dark until I was ready to head back home and go to sleep.  Driving around on the weekends led to the discovery of a vast number of parks and recreational areas in my county and the one next to it, which led to exploration on foot and became an avid love of hiking.  I never went as far as getting into long-distance trekking or climbing mountains or even camping, but I spent hours in the woods of mid- and western Maryland, learning to watch for deer and foxes and other wildlife, bushwacking off-trail, picking up animal bones and turtle shells and feathers along the way.

And I never did figure out what to actually do with my life. High school was a miserable experience and my family was far from rich, so I skipped college and started working full time right out of high school.  Started as a sales clerk in a department store and made my way over the years into the back office side as a clerical, assistant manager, manager, to inventory processing (you see, I don't mind being responsible for things, but I can't stand being responsible for people), to where I am now, as an operations manager.  I've done ok for someone whose only college experience is a handful of part-time classes in their late-20s.  The industry I'm in is contrary in many ways to the principles I've developed over the years, but it's family-owned and they treat the staff like part of that family and pay us fairly well. And since I don't know what the hell else to do anyway, I've stuck around there for over 20 years. 

But fear is also one of things that's kept me there.  Back in my early 20s, just a few years after I moved out on my own, the store I worked for at the time went bankrupt.  I was clueless and stuck around to the bitter end, even when paychecks got skimpy.  I ended up paying my rent in installments, and taking out cash advances on my credit card to do so.  Then came the day when my landlady called to say the property management company wouldn't allow her to take my rent in installments anymore, and that call was followed up by one from a collection agency on behalf of my credit card company.  I had no money to give either of them.  This was the job I'd gotten straight out of high school, seven years before.  I had no experience job hunting, no idea whether to go to another department store or try something else.  So I did what I always did. I got in the car and drove. Headed out to the mountains towards the Grotto of Lourdes near Emmitsburg MD, flying at 90mph with the stereo blasting Queensryche, crying scared tears as I went.  As I turned off the main road onto the side road leading to the grotto, I finally noticed the flashing lights behind me.  The cop walked toward my car with his hand on his gun, but I wasn't trying to get away from him, I was just freaked out and depressed and trying to escape from it all.  When I told him where I was headed, he calmed down a bit, but still gave me a ticket that ended up costing over $100, more money I didn't have. 

I've never forgotten that day. Every time I've considered exploring another line of work that might be more fulfilling but would pay way less than I make now, I've felt whispers of that choking fear again.  I ended up moving back in with my parents back then while I looked for another job and got my finances straightened out, but fear of ending up in that situation again turned me into one of those people who will spend years in an unfulfilling job that's stable rather than exploring other options. I save my exploring for the road, and the woods.

So here we are, roughly 30 years later, and the stable job I've had for the last 20 years is being impacted by the goddamned corona virus.  My boss notified the staff yesterday that while our store is closed and we're all at home social-distancing or out hunting for toilet paper, we will be paid out of short term disability.  When those hours run out, we'll be paid from regular sick time, then vacation time.  What his notice didn't mention was the word "layoff", but it was lurking between the lines.  We had to do some of those back during the 2008 recession and the current situation is horribly more unsettled and uncertain.  My position is considered essential to the store, but my stomach still dropped at the thought of reduced pay, possibly getting to the point of no pay, and knowing that my own staff (against my wishes, I've ended up responsible for people after all) will be the first to be cut if layoffs come.  And while I try to plan for my own situation, I think also of the many people out there whose finances are already being impacted, who have already been laid off, too many of them familiar to me from shops and restaurants and movie theaters that I frequent.  To deal with the fear and the twisted gut and racing mind, on behalf of myself and everyone else out there, I'm doing what I've always done-- Driving those back roads.  Wandering the woods is less of an option than it used to be, between the encroachment of the suburbs filling the trails with people who have no thought of walking quietly and watching for wildlife, and my own advancement into middle age and the joint issues that come with it. And, thanks to the steadily growing suburbs, it takes longer to get to the back roads than it used to. But I know all the ones tucked between developments, and am willing to drive farther out, beyond the spreading edges of the suburbs.

You'd think I'd be tired of these roads by now, I know them so damned well.  But I'm not.  The feel of engagement with the car as it coasts down a long hill and banks into a curve while my favorite music blares out of the speakers is still the cheapest, most stimulating, and easily obtainable high I know.  The spinning of my brain slows down to match the flow of the car and the knots in my stomach begin to ease loose. I don't usually come home with answers, but it lessens the fear for a while. As long as I can afford a tank of gas, I'll need those roads. 


And because I drive a stick shift, this has become a bit of a theme song for me...