Summary

The author, Kasey Sparks, finds comfort and a sense of abundance in friendship after a stressful car repair situation initially reinforces feelings of aloneness.

Abstract

Kasey Sparks shares a personal story about the emotional turmoil of facing unexpected car repairs and the decision-making process that followed. The narrative begins with a phone call from the mechanic delivering both good and bad news about Sparks' Subaru Outback. The potential costs of the repairs trigger anxiety and a sense of isolation, as Sparks longs for a partner's support in making tough decisions. However, a spontaneous decision to join a friend for a lake swim leads to a shift in perspective. The friend's practical advice and the shared experience help Sparks realize that while they may not have a romantic partner, they are not alone; they have a supportive network of friends. This realization flips Sparks' narrative from one of lack to one of abundance, providing reassurance and a sense of being cared for.

Opinions

The author expresses a desire for partnership during challenging times, highlighting the emotional impact of making significant decisions alone.
Sparks initially feels overwhelmed by the potential financial burden of car repairs and the uncertainty of whether to invest in an old vehicle or buy a new one.
The author's friend provides a perspective that normalizes driving an older car with issues, suggesting a more relaxed approach to the problem.
The act of jumping into the lake serves as a metaphorical and literal refresh, helping to clear Sparks' mind and shift their emotional state.
Sparks acknowledges the value of friendship and community support, which becomes a source of strength and reassurance in the absence of a romantic partner.
The author concludes with an affirmation of self-reliance and the recognition that they have the necessary support systems in place,

How A Jump In a Lake Helped Me See I’m Not Alone

It flipped my narrative from lack to abundance

“I have some good news and some bad news,” my car mechanic relayed to me over the phone. “The good news? Your oil change is complete. The bad news? Your AWD isn’t working.”

Say what?

I drive around in a 2011 Subaru Outback. With a few rust spots and some minor hail damage I never fixed, she’s beginning to look her age. Other than those cosmetic issues and a few repairs, she’s been trusty. I rely on the AWD to get me around in the winter, so when he said this my head went into a tailspin.

My mechanic explained in detail what he thought the problem could be but I didn’t understand half of what he said, partially because I don’t know much about how cars work and partially because a series of distracting questions popped up in my head as he spoke.

When do I stop putting money into an old car? Is it time to buy a new one? Can I afford monthly payments on a new car? Can I even afford to pay for these repairs?

What should I do?

These questions swirled in my head and dropped a ladle full of emotions into the alphabet soup he spewed. The only words that registered in my brain were if it’s this it will cost about $1,500 and if it’s this it will cost about $5,000.

Those dollar signs became flames cooking up an old narrative that hijacks my brain at times like this. I dread making decisions like this on my own. And once again I’m facing a big one without a partner to help me.

So with my emotions rising as high as the dollar signs coupled with not knowing what to do my mind took a trip to the island of aloneness.

Will I forever be making these big decisions by myself?

When I don’t know what to do and my emotions get involved I just want a partner to calm me down and help guide me through the process of making a good decision.

I left my office and walked the mile-long trek to the mechanic with a bowed head, watery eyes, and my mind stranded on that island of aloneness. The temp was unbelievably blistering so when I reached the mechanic shop both my eyes and my skin glistened.

I paid my bill and then sat in my car and cranked the AC. I was supposed to meet a friend afterward to go mountain biking. I texted her that with the high temp and my current mood, I wasn’t up for a ride.

“Why don’t you come over to my place and we’ll jump in the lake?” my friend proposed. She lives near one and has a boat parked there. “My partner will take us to a good wading spot.”

Wrapped in emotions and indecision about my car, I paused. For a brief moment, I couldn’t even make up my mind about something as simple as that.

But with perspiration covering my skin, my body chimed in and decided for me. It begged for a jump in a cool lake.

We boarded the boat and as we pulled away from the shore my car troubles tumbled out from my mouth. My friend listened, nodded, and then said, “I’ve been driving my car for a while now without the AWD working and it’s been fine. It’s an old car and I’m going to drive it until it stops. And if I’m out and about and it finally gives up, I’ll call AAA and an Uber. Maybe you should do the same.”

We arrived at the wading spot and jumped in. As my hot sizzling skin plunged into the cold water the I’m alone narrative running through my mind suddenly short-circuited and an aha moment occurred.

My friend just supplied me with what I needed — calm reassuring guidance. I’m not alone after all. I have friends who can stand in and be there to help when I need it.

That jump in the lake not only cooled my body and my emotions. The sudden sensory change on my skin from hot sticky air to cold flowing water helped to flip my narrative from one of lack to one of abundance.

I’m going to be okay. I may not have the partner I desire but I’m most certainly not alone.

I have exactly what I need.

Thank you for reading. To quote Ram Dass, “We’re all just walking each other home.” If you’d like to join me on the journey, click here.