My Dear Giving Car,
We've had so many good times together. Let's see, I bought you in June of 2011. You were my first step of independence. How I loved you! A sleek black exterior with a comfy inside. You weren't fancy, no automatic windows or locks, but I wasn't fancy either. You were peppy and zippy and so fun to drive. We made a great team. Suzanne knew how much I was struggling those days with the uncertainty of my episodes. She sent me a card that sang, "Hang on Snoopy, Snoopy hang on." (Well, later I found out he was saying 'Sloopy' but Snoopy stuck lol) The song was so fitting for my life then, so I named you Snoopy and it fit you perfectly. What did we do together? Well in January of 2012 we moved out into an apartment in Plano. You took me to all of my speech therapy home visits. Your trunk was filled with therapy games. Chris put in a new sound player and you had THE best bass! Oh I remember one night I had a friend staying with me and I was beyond angry with a leak in my apartment that was not getting fixed. I calmly walked out of the apartment, got in you, drove around the corner so my friend wouldn't see me lose it, and then I blasted music as I screamed and cried and cursed and pounded on the steering wheel. Hmmm, I also drove you to inpatient psych in Richardson. Yep, you took me there and luckily I didn't do anything stupid in you. Dad followed us. I parked you in the lot, walked inside with dad and got help. There were many times over the years where I couldn't drive you for months because of depressive episodes or psychological seizure episodes. But you were my safe spot. Was it 2014 that you took me to Sonic every day? I think so. I would sit and write and I was safe. You helped me with my exposure homework in 2016 when I was in prolonged exposure therapy. You took me to all the places I had been avoiding (including Hobby Lobby). You have kept all of the passengers I've driven over the years safe. You were a novelty to each kid I took for a ride: "You roll these windows down yourself?!?!" How many times did you hear me say to someone, "Don't forget to lock your door!" - probably a lot. You have taken me to countless doctor appointments, many job interviews, and always, always, you have been a refuge from each emotional storm. When anxiety hit, I knew if I could make it back to you, help would come. There have been lots of times where mom and dad have picked me up in you while I was having episodes. You were exactly what I needed, exactly when I needed. So why aren't you still in my life? Well, because you are "The Giving Car." I never thought I would sell you. For many years I saw my teenagers driving you. You would've gone on forever. But financial realities and my parents' willingness to let me use mom's old car, made it clear that you, my sweet, dear Snoopy, would continue to provide for me in a different way. Yes, it is painful to not own a car. Yes, it was painful to sell you, my biggest asset. Yes, I miss you. But, because of you, I will be able to pay off my remaining debt and continue to get the treatment I need. I thought selling you would mean losing my independence. With thoughtful time, I've come to realize that short term, yes it feels that way, but long term you are giving me the gift of continued independence. I feel as though I've lost a dear friend to death; on your headstone I would simply put "The Giving Car." I couldn't drive you to the place where you were sold. Dad had to do that. I didn't want to look at you or drive you one last time, but Snoopy, I did. I had to move you from the parking lot to the service center. So I got in for one last spin around the parking lot. I knew you would say goodbye in your classy style - I scrolled through my favorite stations saying aloud, "Come on Snoop! One last song! You can do it!" And on came Katy Perry's Dark Horse - you didn't forget. You knew that was a classic that we listened to together many times. Oh how I loved you SO MUCH in that moment! You, my dear Giving Car, gave me one last memory, one last party, one last love. Thank you for giving and giving and giving.
All My Love,