That's Enough

Driving has alway been a time for podcasts, (SSDGM Muderinos! -  if you don’t get that it’s simply evidence you have a full & happy life.)  or singing along to Beyonce. Today, neither of those things are happening.

I turned off the radio. The only sounds are those of the traffic around me. I’m gripping the wheel devoid of impending need. Traffic is light, the sun is shining and I will get home without issue. But still, my grip mimics my jaw, locked and grinding.

I look in the rearview mirror and see the whites of my eyes are red. My eyelids glow pink as the salt from welling tears start to burn them. I turn my gaze back to the road as the first big drips start to well & blur my vision before they overflow down my cheeks.  I open my mouth, I need a a big inhale, but I’m stopped.

There’s a lump manifesting in my throat. It’s solid, golf ball sized and cutting me off from taking a deep breath.  It sends a sharp pain every time I try to make a sound. Like the radio, I’ve been silenced by an outside force and remain mute the entire car ride home.

Still, I can feel words brewing behind the lump. They’re stirring around my trachea. With every revolution accumulating more velocity, more force to push past that lump placed so intentionally to cut them off.

Finally home, I open the door, up the stairs and walk toward the bathroom mirror with purpose. The words are about to break though, thank goodness, I need them out of my body. I find my own gaze, my eyes are now bright red and smudged with mascara, the contrast makes my blue irises seem to glow.

I close my mouth to draw in air through my nose  as though I could push out every word I need expelled in one breath. I suck in all my lungs can hold, watch my brows furrow and my back arch as though I were a cobra expanding its hood. A warning to no one but myself that this shit is about to get real. The words dissolve the golf ball in my throat and venom spews from my mouth.

I see myself as I Mother Fuck my way through a Year of held back injustices. All the times I was diplomatic, all the times I said nothing, all the times I let things slide. My fist raised over my head with my pointer finger erect, driving it toward the mirror, bullet pointing each argument.

As I yell, everything but my contorted face and righteous words go out of focus. An odd darkness surrounds me and it’s like I’m in another realm of my apartment. My apartment in the Upside Down if you will, a flipped dimension which has been made deprived and distorted (If you haven't seen Stranger Things, get on that shit) Here every word is fueled by the one before it. My brow furrowed so hard I’m sure I’m squeezing out all the Botox I had injected. In moments I am S-C-R-E-A-M-I-N-G inches away from my reflection and remain there hot faced and turned up to 11 until the final blow “... Go FUCK YOURSELF!”

That’s it. There’s no more words.  Both my hands grip the sink just as strongly as they gripped the steering wheel earlier. My heart rate slows as dim yellow light pushes the darkness away and my surroundings come back into focus.

It’s it just  me. Standing in front of my bathroom mirror in my little apartment.

It’s all at once completely satisfying and completely humiliating.  

Satisfying : I really needed to get that out.

Humiliating: I screamed at myself in the mirror….for a long time.

I loosen my grip and wonder if this is what I want? To throw, essentially, an adult temper tantrum? To scream at people without regard, to make them feel as small as I possibly can?

No. It’s not what I want….however good it might feel in the moment. I don’t want anyone to feel the way I’ve felt for the past year. It’s been awful. What I really want is what I’ve been missing. For the people I’m in conflict with to understand what I’m feeling. Empathy, a trait I’m strong in.

I would describe myself as an empath. At nearly 40 I still have a hard time distinguishing between my own feelings and feelings of those physically around me. It is exhausting. I’ve only recently learned to distinguish and  hear my own voice. But on the positive, as an adult, I always consider if I’m the one being an asshole. I don’t always come to it quickly and my outcome isn’t always right, but I do consider it.

When I don't believe the same consideration is being given I’m sent to a petty, dirty place. My Upside Down.   While I’m there I realize how cheap real estate is and how easy it would be to live there. But truthfully, the neighborhood is shit and the neighbors are just awful. They spend all their time feeding into each other’s emotional clutter.  They proudly hoard it into their homes and show it off at any given opportunity.

I know if I keep going back, if I stay long enough, this could become my norm without even realizing it’s happening. Like new parents gleefully showing you all the sweet features on their new mini van. What happened to you?!!

I fear losing sight of the road out.  So, it’s time to move on. It may take longer than I like, hell, it most likely will. But I’ll explore all the paths that lead away.  

A sharp BARK interrupts my thoughts. My dog, Charlie, stars at me on the other side of the open bathroom doorway. It’s dinner time. Still a bit weepy, I smile at him, grateful for the sweet distraction.  I let his wet nose boop in my hand as we walk towards the kitchen. I’m grateful I know my next step.

I have to get Charlie his dinner. For tonight, that’s enough.