Family, Friends and all that Jazz, My Health and Eye, Rants & Reflections

Dreams

Oh, my life.  Is changing every day.  In every possible way.  And oh, my dreams.  It’s never quite as it seems. Never quite as it seems.

I know I’ve felt like this before.  But now I’m feeling it even more.  Because it came from you.  Then I open up and see.  The person falling here is me.  A different way to be.  

I want more.  Impossible to ignore.  Impossible to ignore.  They’ll come true.  Impossible not to do. Impossible not to do.

Now I tell you openly.  You have my heart so don’t hurt me.  You’re what I couldn’t find.  Totally amazing mind.  So understanding and so kind.  You’re everything to me.

Oh, my life.  Is changing every day.  In every possible way.  And oh, my dreams.  It’s never quite as it seems. ‘Cause you’re a dream to me.  Dream to me.

The Cranberries

It’s June of 2001.  Despite driving for two years by this point, this time was special.  I had just bought a new car (18 months old).  Hire Purchase but to me, I owned something.  Growing up, my family always had old cars and they never lasted a full year.  My folks would go from MOT to MOT and just rolled with it.

I loved driving.  I could afford more so I got more.   A girl I worked with at the time, called my car Willow and it stuck.  My car was metallic purple, power steering, with air-conditioning.  That new car smell.  I was so proud.  From a dusty pink hatchback, with a manual choke and heavy steering, to this – felt like a dream.  The feel of the wheel, the silence of the engine as I drove; the happiness I felt just being out in the sunshine, with the windows down and the stereo up loud…was everything.

The first song I played in the car, as I drove it back from the dealership, was Dreams by The Cranberries.  It was intentional.  I played it loud.  I remember exactly how I felt that afternoon.  I felt free.  I felt independent.  I felt I could fly.

Driving to some people is a drag, an irritant.  For others, it’s just a way of getting from A to B.  Then there are people like me – who love it.  We still have the same pet peeves, about middle lane drivers and traffic jams but the joy of the open road and the ability to just escape, at any time, anywhere and go anyplace is liberating.  I hated being at home, when I was younger so now I could just leave.  My car.  My music.  My rules.  My space.  My freedom.  

Times have changed, cars have changed but after 20 years of driving, I still feel the same.  When alone in my car with my music on, whether I’m travelling somewhere or going nowhere special, it lifts me.  The independence and freedom feeds my heart.  I feel like I can breathe better somehow.  Parked up, with the engine off, taking in a beautiful view.  Hearing the rain on the roof and watching it drizzle down the windscreen.  Driving late at night, just me and the stars.  Driving early in the morning, just after the dawn but before everyone starts their day.  I love it all.  The convenience of it.  The reassurance of it.  The practicality of being a driver, that I guess we all take for granted.  It has always been a huge part of who I am.  It started as a breakaway to freedom and became a great love.

This great love affair ended this month for me.  On my husband’s birthday in fact.  While we were all happy and getting ready for our day at the beach; a letter landed on the mat, advising me that my license had been revoked.  I no longer met the visual field standard.  My cruel and hideous eye disease, had robbed me of my independence already.  I was and am crushed. Heartbroken.  As I stuffed the letter into a drawer in the kitchen, a part of my heart went with it.  I blinked back the tears.  My freedom…my independence…is gone.

I had 20 years on the road and enjoyed every second of it.  Words cannot really express how low I feel right now.  I cleared out my car of all my personal effects.  Sent my license back to the DVLA.  I feel a part of me has died.  I am lucky to have had the time I did.  Some people don’t even get that.  I should be grateful.  I want to feel gratitude but all I feel is sadness.  How unfair this all is. How much I have already been through and how much more I am expected to handle.

It took another 36 hours for me to tell my husband.  He held me as I cried. Reassured me that everything will be ok.  Right now I don’t know how to make this ok.  It’s not ok.

Mum will rush to tell her work colleagues, my Dad won’t call, my brother won’t text, my friends will tell me their sorry and tell me they don’t know what to say and get on with their lives…so knowing all that,  I have not told anyone.  In my experience, my friends are very busy and usually want me to come to them, now that’s not even an option.  My mum and my brothers on/off again girlfriend, will speak to each other, on receipt of my news and draw straws as to who will call me to ‘offer support’.  Them knowing will add nothing to my situation.

Same story, with a slightly amended script.  I have to be my own knight in shining armour.  I just need to figure out how I am going to do that. 

Oh, my life.  Is changing every day.  In every possible way. And oh, my dreams.  It’s never quite as it seems. Never quite as it seems.

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