A few evenings ago I was driving home, alone. It’s cooling down here a bit so I decided to open the windows and the sunroof and turn up the tunes. It was just heavenly in my car! I soaked up all the wonderful night air and sea breeze, my favorite music on loud, no interruptions. Alone with my thoughts.
It brought me back to when Baby Reinvention was much smaller and marriage and parenting felt like I was being swallowed up whole some days. When I felt overwhelmingly lost and at a loss I would turn to the comfort of my car and just drive. After my little one was sleeping and Mr. Reinvention was home from work. Often late into the evening I would drive luxuriously down the ocean-side road and try to make sense of myself and my life. My car rides were therapeutic.
At times I would sing loud and unabashedly, other times I would talk out loud to myself or the universe, sometimes I would cry, curse and scream. Sometimes, on particularly tough days I’d envision just driving off into a new life. A do-over of sorts. But I’d always find my way back to our cozy home. I would arrive a calmer, sounder, saner human. The emotional fire quelled.
My vehicle became my emotional vacuum. Where I could let go, privately and press an internal reset.
Driving home a few days ago. Rehashing that time in my life. I recalled those drives fondly, almost. Until that moment triggered those memories I hadn’t given that period of time much thought.
Life is funny that way. Sometimes the moments of intensity heavy with emotion, riddled with beautiful chaos turn small and insignificant in the passage of time. The cliche that Dad told me proves true. Most of life isn’t as big of a deal as we make it. Or as he says, “Relax. Just relax. Take it easy.” All the obstacles, hurdles and upheavals that in those moments I felt would ruin me or us, present or future. That’s all over. Yet, here I am. Here we are. Intact. Still standing.
Where is your space safe for release?