Last week I registered my new(ish) car. I trotted down to the DMV (where I was shocked to find NO WAIT) and paid my taxes and fees. When the nice woman asked me, "Do you just want your name on the registration?", I may have answered a little too emphatically, "YES!". I realized I hadn't worn any sort of jewelry, not even a single ring on my finger. Must have been my subconscious trying on the freedom of doing things on my own for once. As I drove down the freeway toward home I felt like I was flying. I had the radio cranked and The Scorpions "Wind of Change" came on. Damn, it all just felt like the pieces are falling into place one by one.
So, just my name is on the loan. Just my name is on the registration. That makes it MY CAR. If anyone wants to use it they have to ask me. My daughter accused me of being "grabby" with the keys but she doesn't understand what this car means to me. What I've had to go through to get it! Not just the purchase but the entire pursuit of autonomy that has taken place the past few years. It's been hard as hell at times learning to listen to my own thoughts and forming my own opinions. Working through guilt and shame and coming out the other side. At this moment, the car is the apex of that fight. Physical proof that I can do things on my own. And it feels GOOD!