It occured to me tonight while driving back from meeting up with my cat’s vet to give her my babe’s insulin and food (which I was told this morning when I dropped her off that I wouldn’t need to bring *sighs*) that relationships are much like learning to drive a car.
When I learned to drive, I was so afraid that I wouldn’t learn to automatically respond in certain situations or that I wouldn’t remember things. Before I sat in the driver’s seat, I was wondering if I would automatically learn to press the gas and brake when needed. At first, of course, it would take thinking about. Brake, gas, brake, gas. I was afraid that I wouldn’t automatically associate the lights with stop, slow, and go. Yeah, knowing what they are is one thing and, as we grow up, we’re taught that. I remember the first time I was waiting at a red light and my niece said to me, “Green means go!” (I reminded her that we have to wait for the cars in front to go first, of course.) I worried when I was first learning that seeing red wouldn’t automatically translate in my head and then to my feet. Red, stop. Green, go. Yellow, slow to stop. The difference between what I knew and what would come automatically scared me for a while until I realized how adaptive and versatile we are. My feet automatically found the pedals in the right places and my brain translated without even having to concentrate. I can drive and talk, drive and sing, drive and look for other things, all while processing automatically the things I once worried about.
When I was in my first long-term relationship, I was worried I wouldn’t be the right girlfriend. I took cues from the wrong person and learned the wrong reactions and automatic responses. I hit the brake to go and the gas to stop. I processed green as slow, red as go, and yellow as stop. Everything, all those automatic responses were learned wrong.
Now I’m in another one and thinking about this again. I was once again afraid that I’d use the wrong braking method, pumping the brake when I actually had anti-lock brakes and didn’t need to. I’ve spent all the years between relationships learning to be alone and learning how to drive by myself again. Luckily, my head was on straight after the wrong-teachings and I’ve learned from my mistakes. It’s funny what a few emotional fender benders can do for you, you know?
So, now, I’m braking at the appropriate times and going when it’s green. Things are running smoothly. My brain processes the correct colors in the correct manner. I have a loving partner in this, one who realizes the occasional mistakes are just that and doesn’t make me pay for them over and over. One who realizes I’m imperfect and loves me for it.
Learning to drive incorrectly can have damaging effects to your health. The same can happen with learning to relate incorrectly. You will mistake cues and respond incorrectly. What works for some to correct this won’t work for everyone. I needed the alone time. I needed to re-teach myself how to be correct. And, after all that, I realize that we can always learn new things and benefit from them in a relationship, just as we never stop being vigilant in our driving and learning how to adapt to each new situation that arises. (I’m glad I live in the Midwest where we have many weird variations of weather to test our ability to drive so that a little snow, ice, wind, or rain doesn’t completely muck up my ability to get where I’m going safely and in a timely manner when it shows up unexpectedly.) I can adjust when the car in front of me slams on its brakes…without rear-ending it. I can move smoothly around that car that begins to back out in front of me on the way to work…without t-boning it. Time alone and taking the time to review how to react–and putting those lessons in action–has made me a much better mate. I’m lucky to have an other who is willing to continually learn with me and to realize that a broken taillight isn’t the end of the world.
What have OTHERS said in response?