We are always being called to get rid of, release, and to let go of people, things, and situations that burden, or shrink us, or simply no longer serve us. This can be a tough process. There may be emotional attachments that bind us to our pasts and the things and people in them. Sometimes it’s fear that keeps us from letting go. We may be afraid of making mistakes, of looking like total idiots, or afraid of getting knee deep in some swampy mess that we’re afraid we can’t wade out of.  We may be afraid of others taking advantage of us, or that we won’t take advantage of the opportunities that lie in front of us. Sometimes we just get stuck in a rut, knowing that making some changes would truly be of great benefit, but the mere thought of change teases us toward the couch, where we flop, reach for the remote control and click on Netflix.

We may run but we can never hide or escape. Our internal radar always senses when change is necessary, yet our default is to revert to the familiar, the safe, and the comfortable.

Sometimes the thing that prevents this release is a story we tell ourselves. How we are not good/smart/beautiful/handsome/rich/athletic/deserving enough. How no one will want us. That we can’t succeed. That we weren’t born in the right family or circumstances. That we’re the wrong color/ethnicity/gender/race/religion, etc, and that nobody will take us seriously. Oh, the stories we tell ourselves about ourselves.

Two weeks ago, my inner critic crashed the party and began spewing the usual list of inane-ities, reserved especially for the moments I find myself considering a ginormous purchase: “You don’t really need this. The time is not right. This will require too much sacrifice. You can’t afford it. It will quickly become a burden and will prevent you from doing more important things.”

You see, I hadn’t had a car payment in over seven years. Told myself I couldn’t afford a payment and certainly didn’t want one. But I couldn’t deny that my car had become unsafe to drive, and the inspector said the same. And investing thousands on something only worth a few hundred was ridiculously stupid.

I’d bought my Versa hatchback when I first returned to the US.

It was only the second new car I’d ever owned and the first I’d paid for in full. It got me through grad school, my dream teaching gig, my 50th birthday, teaching and artist residencies in Virginia, West Virginia, Delaware, Pennsylvania and beyond. We’d been to gigs throughout the mid-Atlantic, the beach on several occasions, and beyond my 55th birthday. She was my car, my moving van, and sometimes, my trash truck. She’d been dinged, banged, and bruised. And although she was in need of shocks, struts, bearings, belts, a spark plug, new trunk and hood latches, a new door handle, some body work, an alignment, and a paint job, she still drove like a dream…mostly.

I will miss my Nissan Versa. We had thirteen years of adventures. However, I’m thrilled and grateful for the new Hyundai Elantra GT now sitting in front of my house.

I actually enjoy driving again. My daily 2+ hour commute is almost relaxing. I know I am in a safe car, nearly new car with a bumper-to-bumper warranty for another 80,000 miles. No dings. No dents. No more stick shifts and clutches. No more jarring of the brain each time I drive to the neighborhood grocery store. I am no longer embarrassed when I park between nice, clean, dent-free cars with their bumpers still completely attached. I am grateful.

I couldn’t buy that new car until I changed the story I was telling myself. I was telling myself a story that wasn’t true. I was boxing myself into an unbelief. I was doing this harmful number on myself. Through this Journey to a New Car, I was reminded that any time can be the right time, and the supposed wrong time might just be the perfect time. 

Watch the stories you tell yourself…they can be your best friends or your worst enemies. You get to choose. Just be aware. 

As I walked off the showroom floor with the keys to my new ride in hand, I told myself,  “I am deserving, and I can afford to drive this new little beauty. I deserve it. I deserve to drive a safe car that is also enjoyable to drive.” 

I waved goodbye to the Versa while thinking to myself, “Everything is working out for my highest good.”