Paradigm shift
How overthinking about other people's perception of me almost lead me to neglecting my own well-being:
I buy some weed oral strips at the SQDC on the corner of St-Laurent and Laurier at the end of June. I bring my strips along for a four day festival in the sweltering heat of early July. The sheets melt into one big tab. We laugh about it.
A week later, my friend and I are waiting for a ride share to see Lana del Rey in Quebec. I didn’t sleep very well. Six years she’s been a familiar voice in my ears and a curated enigma on my screen. And tonight her and I and thousands of other people will be blue dots at the Plains of Abraham on Google maps <3
The driver is late. I know his name, as well as the names of the other passengers. I also have the driver’s phone number and email address. The ride share platform makes all this information available. I call the driver once to ask where he’s at. I have a hard time understanding him because of the hands-free phone situation. I make him repeat himself a few times. He had to get his car fixed and is on his way; he estimates ten minutes. I call him again twenty minutes later. He tells me to look out for a red van, and that he’ll be there in two minutes. My friend and I take a guess that at least two other people in this car are heading North to witness Lana.
When the driver arrives, it’s one in the afternoon. It is bright outside, eerily bright and abnormally hot.
Another passenger, Karen, gets in before us accompanied by… an aunt? The ride share platform has not granted me access to this piece of information. Anyway, this lady is clearly invested in getting this passenger safely in the car. Karen sits in the back. Her aunt bids her adieu and starts walking away. My friend and I sit in the two middle row seats. The two other passengers -Sarah and her friend-, arrive. One of them quietly asks the driver if they can sit in the back to be together. Karen agrees half-heartedly and moves to the front seat. The aunt has seen this scene unfolding from afar and walks back towards the car, visibly upset. She says to Karen “but you wanted to sit in the back”. The tension is palpable; my knees are sweating.
My friend asks the girls in the back if they’re going to see Lana. They whisper yes with reticent smiles.
I brought the weed strips; my friend asks for one. We split a bit of one. She falls asleep within minutes. I shuffle my Lana del Rey songs.
After a bit, I start feeling… odd. Foggy, so sleepy, strangely fascinated with the speed of the car. I realize I’m higher than I thought I’d be. I notice that the weed sheets are supposed to be stored in a cool and dry place. Cool and dry. My mind starts racing; fast thoughts going nowhere. Perhaps the weed has gotten stronger with the melting. I get that queasy gut feeling that I’ve Done Something Wrong. This is when my inner dialogue splits between soothing and enabling the anxiety.
You’re just high and tired. Name five things you can see… car, trees, I shouldn’t have spent this much money on these tickets, I’m the most irresponsable person, car, tree, car, tree, um, gas station, am I going to die in this car, car, tree, gas station, another car I guess, clouds, three things I can taste… coffee, weed strips, oh my God I’m doing this exercise wrong…
I take a deep breath. In, out, you’re fine.
My bladder feels full all of a sudden. There’s still an hour and forty-five minutes left of driving to do. I will either pee my pants or get a uti. You’ve irritated the driver with your worry about timeliness; these people have all waited over an hour to get in this ride, and now you’re going to be the one making everyone get to their destination even later. This poor Karen lady is already uncomfortable sitting in the front seat, and now you want to draw out her suffering.
I practice asking the driver to stop so I can use the bathroom. I wait and stir in my discomfort with this gross conviction that I am an inconvenience. This is ridiculous, just do it. I tell the driver I have to use the washroom, he nods yes. We get off at the next exit and stop at a gas station.
My friend wakes up, she needs to pee. Sarah and her friend get out as well. And the driver, too.
When we’re pulling out of the parking, Sarah tells her friend that this gas station is the half-point between Montreal and Quebec, and that everyone stops here…
My hair clip is suddenly pinching my scalp in an unpleasant way.
People probably dislike me from afar, can I look at them in a neutral manner? Can I shrug in the face of rejection from being misunderstood?
Im so much bigger than you think.
You, too.
I need to remind myself that the need to tend to my bodily functions is not an inconvenience.