Friday, February 20, 2009
Having just surmounted another of the many, thought unsurmountable, emotional mountains, I sat listless and nearly breathless behind the wheel. My breathing was shallow and forced. My mind was so full it felt empty. I literally couldn't pull a thought from it. I wanted to reach out. I needed someone to know. I made a call. I really just wanted to say out-loud “I did it. This part's done.” to a face or, in an ear, to somebody, but I was greeted with voice mail; which is always difficult for me. I said part of it, most of it, I think, It's hard to remember. I hung up and started the car. After a few minutes I could get it moving. With every inch I got away from the building that housed 5 hours of my most recent, and acute, misery I could breathe deeper. I could calm. I was doing more than just making it, and keeping it together. I was accomplished and I felt virile. Knowing it would be short lived, when I hit the freeway I put down the windows, turned up the tunes and hit the gas. The rest of reality showed back up when the car slowed and then stopped in my parking spot, but the reprieve was nice.