Snappy Loves This S_ _t
Stalled By a Missed Bill
Oh, Snappy! He had a few glorious (for him) days with me. Snappy
is my nemesis—each of us has one, and named or not, it delights when we screw up. Why? Because we then lose all focus
on whatever we do that matters (art, writing, singing, growing prize-winning
camellias, volunteering for underprivileged children), and instead, we berate
ourselves for a failure—real or imagined—until we’re stuck, stuck, stuck.
Regarding my most recent failure, rather than my usual angst—not
good enough, smart enough, funny enough, young enough, successful enough—Snappy
had something tangible to work with. I messed up big time and Snappy took over
for two long days. My auto insurance was cancelled because I didn’t pay the
premium. Hold on a minute before you jump in on Snappy’s side and badger me, too.
My hometown insurance folks know me. Know me as in, “Hey, how are you doing?”
know me. For years, if I even crept toward a past-due status on my policy, I
received an e-mail and a phone call.
So, I stopped concerning myself with making that payment. I put it aside, knowing I’d hear from them if necessary.
Big mistake.
The Florida DMV did not hesitate to contact me loud and clear to
let me know that not only was my insurance cancelled, but also that my driver’s
license would be, too, if I didn’t fix this post haste.
No problem, I thought. (Snappy wagged his tail because he knew
there was a problem.) The company refused to reinstate me because it was a
family policy and one (to be left unnamed) family member had an at-fault
accident two and a half years ago. The payout was only $1200, but we were a
risk they no longer would take.
Snappy started drooling at that bad news, anticipating
things would get worse. They did. Two days of phone calls and e-mails and price
quotes and schlepping information, facts, and figures from company to company
then ensued. Because my policy had been cancelled (a nasty, nasty word in the
insurance business), a fat sum of dollars was required as a down payment on the
new policy.
Well into the second day of my torment from Snappy, stranded
because no way would I drive an uninsured car, I sighed and took a few minutes
to process the wretched situation. In those minutes, I became painfully aware
of Snappy’s non-stop, two-day rant: “Gad! You’re a failure!
What responsible adult forgets to pay their car insurance? You’re such a
slacker. How could you let something like this happen? What if you or the kids
had an accident? You’d have lost the car. You have a car loan, dummy. Can’t you
pay your bills on time? From now on, you have to be perfect about paying everything on time. Look at this paperwork
piled up. You better tighten up and never, ever do such a thing again!”
Whoa. In addition to the effort to get car insurance and all the
details, time, and effort that entailed, I realized I had been cowed, bent, and
broken from two pays of punishment from Snappy. After those few minutes of
reflecting on that time, I said aloud: “Snappy loves this shit!”
That minor epiphany was just enough to silence Snappy. As soon as
he realizes I’m on to him, he usually gets quiet and settles down. In that
quiet, I took the time to really look at the situation without emotion, assess
it, and address it—for the present and the future.
I know I messed up, but the more expensive policy and the stress
are penalty enough. In the future, I will not rely on any company, no matter
how down-home friendly they are, to remind me to pay a bill. In six months,
after I’ve reestablished a good payment history, I am eligible for a
reduced-cost policy. And, yes, Snappy does have a point about the paperwork
pile. I’m clearing that, too.
What Snappy didn’t realize was that I felt bad enough. Letting
Snappy beat me up for two days was counterproductive. I needed the time and
energy to take care of business, not flagellate myself for a mistake. It was a
serious mistake, and I’m grateful that the three drivers on the policy had no
accidents or violations during our non-insured phase. Snappy got quiet when I
realized I had made a mistake, owned up to it, and decided to not do the same
thing again. My only regret is that it took two days to stop the torment.
It was a good lesson in responsibility and in taming Snappy. In
the future I hope that when I feel those yips at my heels, and hear the snarl
and growl, I will be mindful enough to stop, listen, pat Snappy on the head, and say, “I’ve got this. Now leave me alone.”
* * * * *
Snappy is the voice of my personal oppressor. Snappy often sits at my
heels ready to yap, snap, bark, and growl at my inadequacies or mistakes, and he’s a pro at
noticing them. I believe each of us has our own Snappy. I know it’s important
to catch Snappy when he starts his soul-destroying game and put a halt to it. I
can’t predict when Snappy will start yapping at my psyche, but by paying
attention to my emotions when I feel my sense of self slipping away, I can move
away from Snappy and his role in my self-denigration and move toward the
wholeness that I, and each of us, crave.
