Monday I drove the car to work. I don’t drive to work as a rule, it’s so rare that I managed to learn something new about perspective – and myself, and what I value in my experience – when I drove to and from work on Monday. I had planned, prior to the drive on Monday, to take the car on Tuesday and Wednesday as well, to arrive much earlier than usual for some meetings. Yesterday, I did not drive, and I won’t be driving today. I found another way.
It’s not a long commute in distance, about 11 miles. On the 1/2 pedestrian, 1/2 transit commute it takes me a bit more than an hour, one way, most days. Monday morning took about 40 minutes, in light traffic, and really didn’t seem bad. The drive home was very different. It took 45 minutes just to cover half the distance (the remaining half was easily managed in another 20 minutes), and apparently most folks behind the wheel of a car during commuter hours in my community are… total dicks. Yep. That sounds pretty judgmental, but I’m not sure what else to say about what I saw in the decision-making all around me. It wasn’t simply slow-moving rush hour traffic; people were driving with real aggression and hostility, making sudden lane changes that put themselves and other drivers at risk, ignoring emergency vehicles, cross walks, driving in the bike lanes – I’m not exaggerating, people were aggressively and carelessly putting each other at risk. Scary. I’m a skilled driver, and I’ve been doing it a long time. I’m not yet losing any significant amount of my reaction time to aging. I was disappointed in my fellow-man, and in a couple of instances genuinely afraid for my own safety. I took every possible step to ensure I did not have to drive to/from work again this week.
Funny, I don’t mind ‘commuter traffic’ when I’m not specifically commuting, and I generally find driving at rush hour just fine – I don’t mind being slowed down, I just relax and take my time. This felt so different. The only clearly identifiable difference was that I, myself, was commuting, too. I got into the car just wanting to go home. It really changes things, doesn’t it?
Once I did get home, and thankfully safely, it took me more than an hour to get my blood pressure back down, to really relax and start to unwind, to feel kind and human again – are we all going through that? If we are, why are we choosing it? How much domestic strife and bullshit spill over into our lives and loves because we’re cross about how shitty everyone – including ourselves – behaves on the rush hour roadways? Ick. Ick and blech. I’m making a different choice. I’m clearly not yet emotionally resilient enough, and firm enough in my own emotional boundaries to resist the volume of hate and nastiness on the road if I am, myself, commuting behind the wheel of my own car. I’ll ride mass transit, and deal with grumpy strangers who are not guiding fast-moving killing machines. It’s not just safer, it saves me so much time – once I count how much time is wasted getting my sanity and calm back after the drive time!
Yesterday was a lovely work day. Productive. Fun. I got home, feeling good and content and joyful… something went wrong. Not horrifically so, I suppose, but I ended up choosing a solitary evening of meditation over chill time with the family, because… I just couldn’t manage being with other people. I felt cross, I felt disconnected, and trying to connect just seemed to result in new opportunities to feel dismissed, devalued, or ignored. It wasn’t them. It was clearly me, and it was a constant struggle not to take things personally, or overreact to small stuff. More than anything I just wanted to be touched, to be held – and I couldn’t get past how annoying the sound of voices seemed, and I would feel anger start to surge over and over again in response to things I know damned well I am not angry about, or over, or in response to at other times.
My attempts at self-compassion were largely received (by me) with more anger. <sigh> One of my loves commented with nothing but sympathy in his eyes ‘it sounds like hormones…’ followed by ‘I’m so sorry.’ Nothing he can do for that, of course. Me either. I’m advancing on The ‘Pause quite efficiently, and issues with hormones are rarer all the time, but when they do occur, I am no longer sure of what I’m going through, and perspective bounces between ‘totally have a grip on that’ and ‘what the fuck is going on with me now?’ I went to bed early, and mostly slept well – but my brain never really shut itself down. I had strange dreams all night, and kept thinking I was awake listening to voices, only to wake for real and hear nothing but quiet. At least I slept. I woke to a new morning, a new perspective, and feeling pretty good. Calm, balanced. Ready for work. I’m even going in early today…
I won’t be taking the car. I have a commute I enjoy, and it doesn’t require me to drive in rush hour traffic, or see humanity – and my coworkers – at their worst. I’ll make the choice to enjoy that, and I guess I won’t be bitching about the inconvenience of riding the bus/light rail anymore, apparently I prefer it. 🙂
I’ll just take the train, and walk from there.
Evening Light 