Katelyn and I are facing our fears one car wash at a time.
She is terrified of the car wash. I took her once as a young toddler, thinking she would be delighted by the experience of driving through a tunnel of soap suds and whirling scrubbers. I've always found car washes to be a combination of peaceful and fascinating. I imagined my child would feel the same.
I've avoided taking Kate to the car wash since then. However, a few weeks ago, on a Saturday afternoon, I had her with me running errands. Sam was taking a nap at home with Dave and Kate wanted to tag along as I picked up groceries at Walmart. Getting into the car, I realized that our vehicle was a crumbly mess of crushed graham crackers, a random assortment of forgotten toys, and a single brown crayon that had melted in the heat of springtime in Houston. The exterior of the car matched its interior. My once bright red minivan was now a rusty orange, thanks to a thorough coating of pollen, a by product of, once again, springtime in Houston. We needed to go to the car wash.
Being an adult, I knew for certain that a car wash was not dangerous, that buckled into our seat belts with the windows rolled up, we would remain dry from the spray and safe from the curtains of water and soap. I knew this. But Katelyn didn't. She begged me to let her stay by the vacuum station while I drove the car through. However, I was not about to let my three year old sit alone on a curb while I got the car washed. She was going to have to tough it out and face the dreaded car wash.
As we approached the end of the tunnel and sunlight flooded our car again, Kate unplugged her ears and looked up at me in the rear view mirror to exclaim, "That wasn't so bad. I think I like the car wash now."
We laughed and laughed and drove off to Walmart in our freshly vacuumed and scrubbed van and I thought to myself how much the experience reminded me of dieting. I know I need it. I can hear the people around me assuring me that it's safe and good for me. But in the moment, it doesn't feel safe and good for me. It feels bad and scary. It feels like a darkened tunnel with sharp stinging sprays of water and soap that is burning my eyes. And like Kate entering a car wash, I can hear you but I just have a hard time believing it.
Of course, from experience, I know that as I approach the end of that tunnel, I encounter the sunlight of success and say to myself, "That wasn't so bad. I think I like this new healthy lifestyle." Because a clean car is always better than a dirty one and a healthy body and a controlled appetite is always better than the chaos of an eating addiction.
I know all these things and have forgotten them all at the same time because, in the beginning, car washes and dieting are both kind of scary.
