A Squirrel, A Song, and A Solution

Lessons from the Worst Monday Ever

Some Mondays roll in with a slight breeze, easing you gently into the week. Others blow in like a gale, scattering your plans like leaves. Today was the latter.

I woke up late, not catastrophically late, but just laye enough to throw me off track, skip the shower and rush out of the house with a hat on top of unkempt hair.

The stress of Monday morning traffic compounded the anxiety that I might end up teetering on tardiness. “If you're not early, you're late,” apparently.

As soon as I got to one of the busiest stretches of my commute I opened the throttle a bit, time to make up. I lost power, smoke started billowing out the back of the car like in a James Bond film. I managed to pull over safely and called for breakdown assistance, my stomach a simmering pit of despair.

The breakdown guy arrived after allowing me to stew for only 30 minutes, he surveyed the scene under the hood, and gave the grim diagnosis: the car was DOA.

A tow to the garage for a second opinion confirmed the worst. The mechanic sucked his teeth and declared, in his most conciliatory tone, that my trusty steed unsalvageable without a full transplant of its vital organs: engine, turbo, the flux capacitor, the lot. The cost? More than buying a new car. More than I could afford. I had no choice but to let it go.

Twelve years. That car had been with me since new, for twelve years, through thick and thin. Saying goodbye felt like parting with an old friend. I was beyond sad.

The reality of my financial situation loomed large. I had no contingency for this. My own fault.

Nolan barrie

has recently posted an interesting newsletter titled the ADHD Tax, I feel this is why I have no emergency fund.

My anxiety cranked up to 11 stood outside the garage, me and two mechanics looking at my glorified gym locker on wheels as I took out my bag, stuffing my spare trainers in, to leave the car for the last time and try and make it back to civilisation. I was honestly a mess at this point, but I refused to show weakness in front of the "real men", the ones with oil on their hands.

Instead, I masked my anxiety with humour, joking as they dismantled the remains of my comfort zone, literally and figuratively.

Walking vaguely in the direction of the nearest town and the place “manly men” go to solve their problems, the pub, I called my mum to explain the situation and hear a friendly voice.

She could clearly tell I was having "a day" and put on her “mum voice.” (If you're a mother, you've got one, you might not know it but you have.)

She offered me a loan to put towards a new old car. Mummy dearest isn't a wealthy woman, she's in ill health, raised me and my sister almost single handedly through our teenage years into adulthood. I knew what she was offering me was likely her life savings, every penny she had.

Reluctant to accept, I wavered, because big boys don't need help, until she reminded me that family sticks together. “One of our problems is all of our problem,” she said firmly.

My throat tightened, my eyes welled, but the dams that are my eyelids kept the salty water at bay. Because, in public, we fellas don't do that sort of thing. Her kindness overwhelmed me, I don't know why. It's not at all out of character. I love you mam! (That's what us Brit's call out mothers "Up North")

Anxiety dampened by the offer of extra finance from the bank of mum I continued walking. Passing through a park, because you should always try to walk through a park when the alternative is to simply walk down a road. Why wouldn't you?

I tried to ground myself in the moment, to notice the sunshine filtering through the trees and the crisp autumn air. That’s when I saw my spirit animal. A squirrel, and a chunky one at that, getting ready for winter, or maybe pregnant I'm not sure.

Somehow, it felt like a sign.

The squirrel reminded me to pause, step back, and assess. It didn't talk to me if that's what you're thinking. It just made me pause. That was enough.

Problems are easier to solve when you’re not drowning in them. And they're easier to solve when they're not your own.

Reframing by taking the emotion out of an issue is something I know works wonders. Yet I forever realise this too late. Today, thanks to Susie squirrel, I took a deep breath, refocused, and kept walking, plan of action forming in my mind.

I put some music on my headphones. I've been listening to a lot of Frank Carter and the Rattlesnakes recently, I suggest you do too, I let autoplay do it's thing. One of Franks songs, "Anxiety" came on and some of the lyrics just fit my day, my week, my life at the moment so well.

"Feel so depressed and unimpressed,

And be so stressed when I'm so blessed"

...

"And I try my best but it's never right,

And I don't know what's wrong with me,

'Cause I should be sweet but I'm not happy"

...

"If you have got what you believe is a life full of anxiety,

And I'll tell you that it's okay,

'Cause it doesn't have to stay this way,

And there's a better place for you and me where we can be happy"

Out of context and on a screen those lyrics don't do either the song, or the way it made me feel at the time any justice. Give it a listen. See if you feel it too.

I took this as another sign, Frank telling me that sometimes anxiety strikes out of the blue, sometimes it stays with you a while, but it "doesn't have to stay this way."

I reached the pub, an actual smile on my face, not because I was about to drown my sorrows (I don't actually drink) but because, I entered with a battle plan:

1. Grab a cup of tea.

2. Order breakfast.

3. Find a car.

Tea in hand with my laptop open, determination kicking in, I scoured the web. Or the small part of the web detailing used car showrooms near me.

The used car market isn’t kind right now. I was shocked at how much even old bangers cost. I built a shortlist over the course of a few refills, ate my full English and set out to view a couple of options.

Eventually, I found a car that ticked all of my boxes, or the most important of them at least: It wasn't thousands of pounds more than I had.

It's an older car with far fewer miles on the clock than it ought to have.

Being tired and unwilling to haggle endlessly through the whole "salesman dance", I made a cash offer significantly below the asking price. “I’ve had a shitty day,” I told the salesman. “You have the power to make it better.”

To my complete surprise, he did. A deal was struck, cash counted, paperwork signed, and I drove off in my new, old car. Not ecstatic, but relieved. The anxiety that had shadowed me all day began to melt away.

Reflecting on the day:

First, it’s okay to lean on the people who love you; their unwavering support is a gift not to be turned down.

Second, sometimes signs, be they in the form of squirrel or song, can remind us to approach problems methodically and that others too have felt like we feel.

Third, it's ok to feel how you feel, men feel sad, it's ok for men to show emotions, be vulnerable and even cry. In fact it's also ok to show others how you feel, you don't need to only feel it in private.

And lastly, kindness, from mechanics to mums, and bosses cool with you calling in a last minute holiday request can make all the difference on a hard day.

Some Mondays are the worst, but even they can teach you something valuable. You just have to look for the signs, breathe through the chaos, and keep moving forward, even if it is in a 14 year old silver shed on wheels.