My terrible little secret.

I had my Mom in the car with me, and I was itching to do it. It’s my habit, my addiction, my terrible affliction. I knew I couldn’t, I shouldn’t, she’d judge me and chastise me, 

Admonish me like a naughty little boy again. 

Just the other day I looked up from the little screen and had to swerve to avoid driving into the chevrons on the side of the road. My heart pounding as I guiltily tossed the phone onto the passenger seat. A minor lapse I thought. Thank goodness there were no other cars on the road. No one to witness, nobody to see me. I’m probably just tired, it’s late, and I’ve just climbed off a plane.

Besides, I’m a great driver. I can handle a phone and a steering wheel simultaneously. The Multitasking King. I’m better than the rest. It won’t happen again.o-TEXTING-DRIVING-facebook

But that’s how all addictions flourish, that little voice in your head that whispers, “You’re still in control. You can stop any time you choose.”

I’ve even assuaged my guilty conscience by convincing myself that catching up on social media posts is OK. After all, I’m not texting, and isn’t that what all the fuss is about?

Driving robot to robot, waiting for the car to roll to a standstill and then reaching for the phone. Watching the road, constantly waiting for a straight stretch of road, less traffic, perfect conditions to get my fix. 

But it is never OK. 

No matter how good a driver you are, no matter how fleeting the glances at the screen. It is just a matter of time. One text and one update closer to the inevitable. 

Of course my mom would be right; I just don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to admit it either. Don’t want you to know…finally-thumbs-down-things-you-dislike-facebook.1280x600

But it is time. I am lucky that thus far my terrible habit hasn’t cost me. Yes lucky. Not skilled, not clever, not smart. Not better than anybody else who has caused an accident, taken a life, lost a life.

Just plain lucky! 

So now you all know. I admit that I have a terrible habit. My secret is out. 

And so it ends, because from today, I promise that I am done. I’m going cold turkey. 

And I’m asking for help. 

If you’re close enough to me to know when I am driving, and you suspect that I am breaking my promise, I’m asking you to challenge me, be hard with me. 

 And I am challenging you to do the same. Give it up. Come clean. Be grateful that you’ve been lucky too. feeling-lucky

Please don’t wait for your luck to run out…

You do it because ‘driving is such dead time…’

There’s something there, don’t you think?