Interlude: Motor Mechanics

Whilst I was in my mini-crisis, I tried to rescue myself by imagining I was a car. If I were a car, I wondered hopefully to my therapist (this was in the middle of another difficult session) where would the broken parts be? She wouldn’t be drawn, and so I retreated, hurt. But then I was already hurt and angry that day.

Now, I know almost nothing about the inside of a car. But I’ve always liked transpositions when thinking about mental health. They may not be exact, but I think they can be effective and comforting. As I understand it, a car can have many afflictions. Parts wear out or are misused. Both doors can fall off. The whole car can malfunction, and burst into flames. The computer part (not sure of the technical term here) of a vehicle may need to be reset. And eventually most cars apart from pedigrees - which are bought by collectors or go to museums - end up on the scrap heap. Which is where all humans go unless they’re preserved like Lenin or Jeremy Bentham.

So, I wondered, is my engine okay? Maybe, but sometimes it stalls a bit. Are my gears in good order? Not sure. Do I have a faulty exhaust? Possibly.

I consulted two family members who drive cars, knowing that they wouldn’t mind working with a metaphor.

‘Can I ask for some help from both of you,’ I typed in WhatsApp.

‘Go for it,’ my brother replied.

‘If I was a car - this is my metaphor - which parts work well, and which are malfunctioning? I need yr best brains here,’ I warned. ‘You will need to transpose car parts for human drives and capacities.’

‘This is a serious question,’ I continued. ‘ I may provide prizes.’ My brother, who sometimes accuses me of belabouring a point takes all this in his stride.

‘I will consider this at length’ he said. ‘I don’t necessarily feel that malfunctioning is the right word though.’

‘Ah, okay,’ I said. ‘For me it is a dodgy steering wheel, an inconsistent motor and the overall tension of the car is wrong.’

Then my mother starts looking at the issue. ‘Okay,’ she said, reframing the question, as she often likes to do, ‘so you mean which parts of a personality work well, and which parts need tuning?’

Meanwhile my brother came up with  - ‘Your suspension is overhard, it’s true. And your gear box is harsh.’

‘Yes,’ I replied. Well, I did ask.

‘Gear changing needs to be smooth to react to changing conditions,’ he said.

‘Yes. Tyres are okay,’ I added, wondering if this was true.

‘Everything works fine, but is very sensitive,’ my brother concluded.

After asking a few diagnostic questions, like ‘what happened in the therapy session?’ and ‘what particularly upset you?’ my mother came back with her verdict.

‘Well,’ she said, ‘ a car needs to be looked after by its owner, i.e. you. It needs to be exercised (driven regularly) for its battery to be in good shape. Its documentation must be kept in good order for it to remain on the road.’  I think my mother means don’t break the law, or maybe it’s about registering with a GP. I’m really not sure. ‘And,’ she continued, ‘it needs to be driven gently and effectively to look after its owner well. End of.’

I have never heard my mother say ‘end of’. It must be something she’s picked up from her cohorts at the independent living place where she now hangs out.