I’m no gearhead, but I do occasionally drool over a vintage Mustang. My relationship with cars is fraught - I wrecked a car or three in my teenage years, and also killed an engine.
Just now I was researching “what does an alternator do” and “what is a sign of a failing alternator?” for no reason except that someone mentioned an alternator and I realized I have no idea what the f*ck they do.
Here’s what Google tells me:
6 Symptoms of a Failing Alternator
The indicator light.
Headlights are dim or flickering.
Other electrical failures.
Strange noises.
Car stalls or has difficulty starting.
Battery dies
What I know about cars and car mechanics - besides how to identify a ‘66 Mustang from a ‘69 Mustang, is that the best mechanics have highly attuned ears. The first thing my dad, my stepdad, or my good friend will do when I mention an issue with my car is to listen. They’ll have me turn on the engine and they will stand quietly for a while, listening. Then they will say “sounds like the alternator” or “sounds like the timing belt” or “sounds like the starter”, to which I’ll nod as if I understand and then quickly Google the issue. Even with limited knowledge of engine mechanics, I have learned to listen to my own cars over the years. To hear the little wheeze of the starter when I turn the key, or the crackling whine of a failing electric window. To hear a squeaking starter belt or a cranky brake.
For the past 24 or so months I’ve been on a healing journey from adrenal fatigue, which has settled into a semi-chronic state for me. I’ve read and researched and experimented. I have paid thousands for functional care, for supplements and appointments and chiropractors and massage. I have realized, now, that this is a potentially lifelong condition I will live with - not quite an autoimmune condition but not something I can actively ignore.
Instead, I have learned to listen - when my back starts to ache in the place just above my kidneys, I know I am worn out. When I don’t have the get-up-and-go that I normally feel, I tune in. “It sounds like the timing belt,” I say to myself…. “it feels like fatigue. I’ve been pushing myself too hard”. “The alternator is starting to go….uh-oh - time to go to the mechanic”… “I need to cancel everything and lean into rest”. I learn to stop and listen to the strange noises instead of rushing through, ignoring the warning signs and sounds. I learn to connect the dots - the whine of my back, the resistance, the urge to stay in bed.
Our modern world does not teach us to attune our ears to our own needs. I am tempted, often, to gulp down a giant cup of coffee and use the twitchy energy to get through the day. To pump myself with artificial energy in order to mask the depletion of real energy I am experiencing.
I wonder how our communities would change if we were attuned to our own needs, and if we could then attune to one another’s needs. My commitment to myself is also a commitment to my community, because if I cannot show up fully - with real instead of artificial energy - I am unable to contribute to real health.
I continue to listen, to Google and ask questions and stand quietly over the engine of my body, taking note of what feels right and what feels out of whack. I am committed to tune-ups and long periods of rest. I am committed to my own health, and by extension, to the health of my community.