Pgh Lesbian Correspondents

For the past 16 months, I have been unable to ride in a vehicle driven by a stranger – especially in the back seat. This is a trauma reaction to the time I was put in handcuffs, put in the backseat of a police car, fastened, and taken away from my home under the pretext of an Involuntary Civil Commitment warrant. I’ve written about that elsewhere.

My access to our household vehicle was taken away from me when I returned home. We used to be a two vehicle household, but after my Honda CRV died – it seemed smart to simply share. So I didn’t even try to find a replacement.

That means I have no way to get around, I am forced to rely on rides. My friends are great – they take me to the store, the pharmacy, the theater, and more. But it is not a perfect solution. Their availability is limited by other priorities.

I’ve put off things like seeing some of my doctors, starting PT, etc because its pretty complicated to figure those rides.

One solution was to buy an electric tricycle last fall. It is literally learning to ride a different kind of bike and I did not master that skill before winter set in. I’m planning to get that started soon. That would solve my local issues. But to be honest it comes with new worries – can I lock a trick at AHN Federal Street to go to PT? The pharmacy? I’m determined to try. My friend Lauren is a bike person and has been a great source of encouragement.

The other solution would be to use ride shares. But that involves riding with a stranger. I’m not afraid they will kidnap me or things like that. I’m afraid I’ll have flashbacks and an anxiety attack, losing ground in my recovery. Same with the bus which is a few blocks from my house.

So my solution has been to start by riding with friends. I was supposed to start two weeks ago when Marie’s cat needed a dental procedure. I laid out my clothes, packed my bag for the day. charged my tablet, woke up at 3 AM and changed the reservation to her name then slept. She was not mad. I was mad at myself.

Today, I made progress. My friend Diane drove over to my house, parked, and we took an Uber to Eat’N Park, ate lunch, and then Ubered back to my house. And it was fine. Both drivers were chatty which helped to distract me. I used grounding tools – feeling the leather seat, planting my feet on the flood, touching the window, and enjoying the sun.

I am very proud of myself. So much that I want to try on my own immediately, but that is not wise. Marie and I are going to head to the Waterworks next week.

A very big source of support has been a friend adding me to his family account so he covers the fees for the important trips – like these first few, doctors, etc. That’s a kindness.

I came home feeling triumphant. Diane headed home and I went to feed my cat colony, did a few chores, and came up to work on – you guessed it – Political Q&A. Suddenly it was 7 PM. I did it. I took the first step in my plan to reclaim my independence. Someone else is paying and assorted friends are riding with me so I’m still using baby steps.

Now I’m reflecting on how I felt. I was tense. I felt a little captive because the driver controlled so much. But their attention to detail – turning down the radio volume. asking about the temperature and the sunroof. It put me at ease. The police did not attend to such matters. They wanted me to stop talking and just let them dump me at Western Psych. I wanted to distract myself from being handcuffed and fastened in a car against my will. So I talked anyway. What did it matter? They were transporters, not deciders.

I’m going to a play on the South Side with a different friend on Sunday so I think we’ll do a rinse/repeat of the ride sharing. Melissa and Diane are two of my most badass friends. I feel safe with them.

So this is an update and a reminder that when bad things happen, we can find a way through and reclaim our independence in new ways.

I’d still like a car of my own. But if that’s meant to be, it will surface.

And I still have a lot of work to do. I see my trauma therapist weekly plus my primary therapist twice a week. We have plans. I had trauma already, but the impact of that hellish day and the ensuing six+ months runs deep. It tapped into older issues. It created new ones.

Next up is the bus because it goes where I need to go.

Bonus – it was clam chowder Friday at Eat’n Park. Woo hoo!