on being late

I believe I have mentioned before how one of the only things I have nightmares about is being late. Well, yesterday I lived that nightmare.

THE STORY:
Aaron and I both had haircut appointments with the same hairdresser, Aaron in the morning and I in the evening. Aaron slept through his appointment entirely. I am trying to not be embarrassed by things he does, and I am trying not to assume responsibility for his waking up and getting places on time, so I decided to not get stressed out about this.

I checked the bus schedule for trip times to get to my appointment on time. Much to my chagrin, most of them said it would take 55 minutes to get there (I miss Toronto subways). However, there was one miracle entry telling me to transfer to a bus I had never heard of that would get me there in 40 minutes. I didn't see said bus on my transit map, but the internet told me it would be there for me. As I felt it was unjust to be on the bus for 55 minutes for a mere hair appointment, I decided to believe the 40 minute entry.

I got on the first bus, no problem. I got off at the right place, but couldn't find a bus stop that had the mysterious #84 listed on it. I decided to jump right to plan B instead of wasting time looking for a dubious plan A. I got on the skytrain and got off downtown. The downtown busses had all been moved a block over onto a different street. Downtown traffic is hell, and it was way slower going than I had estimated. At this point, I was already late.

As I neared the place to get off, I asked the bus driver to let me know when we got to my stop. It turns out that the two bits of information I'd been given to identify my stop were actually conflicting, so the busdriver didn't know when I should get off either. I called the hair salon and they told me I was so late that I shouldn't bother coming in at all. So, I simply got off at the next major intersection and began my long bus trek home. I spent the entire way home trying hard not to cry. (Part of the issue here is that I had opened the coffee shop at 5:30am and was short on sleep. For me, tired = emotionally volatile.)

THE POINT:
I'm beginning to get worried about me and how stressed out I get by being late. First of all, I imagine that everyone is ridiculously ticked off at me (and my husband), and that they think we're inconsiderate and irresponsible idiots. Aaron tries to convince me this is not so, but I don't think I quite believe him. Secondly, I feel crazy stressed out, like my blood is pumping funny and my tummy is tight and I feel the need to breathe heavily. Thirdly, and perhaps most scarily, I feel the need to bite my cheeks or dig my fingernails into my arm really hard, because I find the pain distracts me and puts the stress on pause.

This whole stress response to being late has only gotten this strong in the past year or so. I think part of it has to do with moving to a new place and feeling the need to make a good impression on all the people I meet who will be part of my new life here. Part of it has to do with marrying someone who has a reputation for being late and not wanting myself to become identified with that reputation for the rest of my life. But mostly, the crazy stress thing just weirds me out. Any thoughts?